“A year!” she cried on a sob of protest. “You said six months before!”
“If you will recall, I said that there was to be that particular length of time before you would give Edward an affirmative answer, but there would have been an additional six months betrothment after that. A year in all. I haven’t broken away from my original plan for you, only changed the conditions slightly out of consideration for your sister.”
“Am I entitled to no consideration?” she wailed piteously.
He helped her to her feet and held her, she being too crushed in spirit to struggle free, her head hanging. “I’ve granted you one concession. Be thankful for that. Now do you know the lane — well, it’s little more than a track — that the race horses follow every morning through Ashby Woods to the gallops beyond?” When she gave him a weary nod he continued: “I’ve bought the old house that stands on its own there. It has large outbuildings and a disused brickyard with a pond and a great kiln, which I intend to put into full working order again. Come to the house tomorrow evening at eight o’clock.”
“And if I don’t come?” she asked, lifting her face with a last flash of defiance.
He shrugged nonchalantly. “In that case, with an evening lying spare on my hands, I shall come back to the Manor to thank Edward for this pleasant ball and regale him with tales of the residents of Rushmere.”
She stood dumb in her defeat. He took her face between his hands and kissed her limp, unresponsive lips. Then without another word he left her. She heard his footsteps cross the tiles of the conservatory, clack twice across polished wood, and become lost on carpeting as he made his way back to the supper room. She knew she should return herself, but the thought of facing all those people, many of whom would turn inquisitive glances in her direction in puzzlement at her prolonged absence, was more than she felt able to endure.
With a groan she sank down on the seat that Adam had so recently vacated and put both hands together on the back of it, her head bent to bring her forehead to rest on them. She was stunned that such a catastrophe should have happened to her. It was like some dreadful nightmare out of which she must wake in a few minutes and find that everything was as it had been before. But it wasn’t a nightmare. It was reality.
When she heard a door open she sat up with a start of alarm, thinking that Adam had returned to heap some further humiliation on her head, but it was Edward who had come by the same corridor that she had taken to reach the conservatory. When he saw her sitting there on the seat, apparently waiting for him, he stopped by the palm under which she had stood so shortly before, smiling in his delight at discovering her.
“You’re here, Nina! I missed you from the supper room and couldn’t think where you might be with everyone asking for you.” He came and sat beside her, taking up one of her hands to put, palm uppermost, to his lips. “You’re trembling!” He sounded doubly pleased, not realizing that her state of strained nerves had been induced by another’s presence and for an entirely different reason that the one he had assumed. “How dear of you to slip away to meet me at our rendezvous.” He kissed her hand again. “For weeks I’ve been deciding what to say to you at this moment, and now I’m dashed if all of it hasn’t flown out of my head.”
She sat with her throat arched, her chin high, and her little smile felt stiff and painful. “How much do you love me?”
“With all my heart!”
“Would you love me if all turned against me and the finger of scandal was pointed in my direction?”
“But it wouldn’t be.”
“Yet if it was, Edward! If none would receive me and I couldn’t be presented to the Queen and together we were snubbed on all sides, would you still love me?”
He gave an uncomfortable shrug, displeased with her odd attitude which was unsuitable to the romantic occasion. “Why on earth should a sweet girl like you imagine such impossibilities. You could never become such a person and I would stay a bachelor all my life first, so the situation could never under any circumstances arise.”
She gave a deep sigh that sounded curiously resigned to his ears, making him give her a baffled look. “You are right. It couldn’t, of course.” Tilting her head she turned waiting eyes on him. To herself it was as though she viewed him through the bars of a cage to which he had just thrown away the only key.
Still holding her hand he got up from the seat again to go down on one knee to her, naturally and without embarrassment. “Dearest Nina, I love you. You are everything I ever wanted in a partner to share my life, and during the months we’ve known each other I have come to hope that you love me in return enough to feel the same. I’m asking you to marry me.”
She gazed him. Everything was hers. This man. This great house and all the wealth and social splendour that went with it. And this magnificent ring of diamonds and emeralds that he was taking from his waistcoat pocket. Her moment of triumph was sour. The price she had to pay for it all through no fault of her own was too terrible to contemplate.
“Yes, Edward dear. I will marry you.”
“My love!”
The ring slid on her finger. He took his seat again and clasped her to him, his kiss passionate and triumphant. When he let her get her breath she put a hand against his shining shirt front to keep him at a distance, wanting to speak before he could carry out his obvious intention to kiss her again. One last chance had unexpectedly presented itself to her.
“I have the most wonderful ideal Let’s elope!” she implored eagerly. “Now! This minute!”
He was enchanted by her notion but did not take it seriously. “We would certainly have a flock of company to see us off.”
“No! No! I’ll get my cloak and we’ll go secretly. Like lovers in a fairy tale.”
He laughed lovingly. “To Gretna Green, I suppose.”
“Yes, oh, yes! At once!” She was already on her feet.
He frowned incredulously, seeing that she meant it, and he reached out to draw her firmly down to his side again. “Dearest! Nobody could be more eager to wed than I, but there is no question of an elopement. I’m my own master with none to question any decision I make and you have Tansy’s blessing on our union. No couple could be more free to wed than we. There’s no need for any hole-and-corner marriage for us, and I thank God for it. Elopements always bear the taint of scandal.”
“Then marry me tomorrow in the village church,” she begged.
He gathered her to him, no longer quite so happy about her eagerness, which was flattering but unseemly. “What you ask is impossible. There are banns to be read and all the rest of it. There’s also — er” — he gave a little cough —”well, people sometimes jump to wrong conclusions when a couple marry with un-necessary haste.”
Her face became raddled with despair. “If you will not do as I ask it must be a year before I become your bride.”
He smiled, patting her hand, overwhelmed that she should love him so much. “A year isn’t long officially for a betrothment and I hadn’t expected it to be less. Naturally every day will be like a year to me, but you will find that you’ll need the time for everything that has to be done. I thought you might like me to take you to Paris to have your wedding gown made — with Sarah as chaperone, of course.”
She burst into tears. She, who never cried, who had remained dry-eyed at both parents’ funerals, and who always bottled up her emotions, wept brokenheartedly for herself and for the blighted fulfilment of her lovely plans, which would have been perfect beyond her wildest dreams had not Adam chosen to savage them with his vindictive lust. Edward thought he understood. She was overwrought due to the excitement and emotion of exchanging vows. Without doubt she was a passionate creature, something he had long been aware of, in spite of her outward primness, for he fancied that he was experienced and knowledgeable about women. Nina had excited his interest from their first meeting at Ainderly Hall with her shell of coolness, her air of being unawakened to her own sensuality, the hint of blazing fire beneath the ice. It was to be expected that no
t recognizing her own physical longings she should find expression for them in present tears. But what tears! They were pouring from her eyes in a flood.
“Nina! My love! Hush, hush!”
She did not pull away from him when he took her into his arms, but looped her own about his neck, pressing her tear-wet cheek to his. With a supreme effort she used the minutes of his attempt at amorous comfort, her mind racing, to take a grip on herself. All was not lost. She would be away from Cudlingham and Adam! — for much of the betrothment year with all the visits far afield that Edward had planned for them to take as well as the trip to Paris. At least she had his ring on her finger and in twelve months’ time she would be his wife, no matter what happened in between. For the time being she would not think about the price she had to pay. This was the most important evening of her life so far and she would concentrate only on that.
In the ballroom the second Polonaise was ending when Nina. and Edward reappeared and the announcement of their betrothal was made. Tansy and Dominic were among the first to offer good wishes and congratulations. Adam had left long since. Everybody stood back to clear a circular space on the floor for the host and his bride-to-be to dance together in a waltz, ripples of applause following them round and round, and Nina’s face as she looked into Edward’s eyes was a studied portrait of hope and happiness. Only Judith spotted that she had been crying.
Dominic turned to Tansy. “Shall we?” Other couples were joining in the waltz, and he took her fingers into his and his arm encircled her slender waist, drawing her hard in to him as they spun into the dancing.
“You’re holding me too close,” she said with an upward glance under her lashes.
He looked down into her face, his eyes dark and glowing and eloquent. “Not close enough. Oh, no, my dear Tansy, not nearly close enough!”
She caught her breath, her pulse racing, and with that extraordinary empathy that seemed at times to enable him to read her thoughts he danced her off the ballroom floor and into one of the anterooms where closed curtains of crimson velvet covered the windows. She made no protest and he spoke no word. As in the anteroom where she had talked with Adam the lighting was soft, a single rose-glass lamp turned low, the pattern thrown out by it lost on the deep-red walls. In the darkest shadows he crushed her to him and buried her mouth in his, obliterating all else for her. No single languishing thought for Adam, no last thread of wistful longing, could withstand the onslaught of his ardent passion, and it was almost as if he knew what he was about.
Some minutes later he asked her a question, still holding her, she quiet and still and warm within his arms, her head against his shoulder. “Have we sealed a truce?”
Her voice was breathy and almost inaudible as she answered him, but he caught the faint undertone of regret. “No, kisses settle nothing. There are still barriers between us.”
When the ball was over she travelled home with Judith and Amelia as they had come, in one of the Manor carriages, Nina following with Edward in another equipage. Sitting silently in the corner, barely listening to the others’ chatter, Tansy felt the ball had marked the end of an era, Nina having gained her goal, leaving her free to go ahead with her plans for Rushmere. But what of her relationship with Dominic? Was it about to move forward into a more turbulent phase?
Nina was late up next morning. She came into the kitchen with her hand to her head, declaring she had scarcely closed her eyes. “No, it wasn’t due to excitement,” she argued crossly, by no means the radiant newly betrothed as she had appeared the night before. “It’s sharing a bed with Judith. She was continually getting up and walking about again.”
“It’s true,” Judith admitted, looking up from kneading bread dough. “After all that dancing I couldn’t sleep for the pain in my limbs. I tried to be quiet, but sometimes a moan escaped me, and all the floorboards do creak.”
“I feel that now I’m betrothed I should have a room to myself,” Nina stated importantly. “After all, I shall be attending all sorts of functions that will keep me out to all hours and then I’ll be disturbing Judith in my turn.”
“Well, you cannot have my room,” Tansy replied, “because I’m giving that up to get it ready for guests, but you can have the box room I intended to take for myself, if you like, and I’ll move in with Judith.”
“The box room by the rear staircase that comes down to the scullery behind the kitchen near the back door?” Nina’s eyes were alert. She was also remembering that outside the window was the flat roof over two small rooms off the kitchen, which originally must have been housekeeper’s apartments. It would be easy enough to gain a footing on the stonework outside and regain entrance to the house by way of the window should the need ever arise.
“I know it has barely room for a bed and a chest of drawers —” “I’ll take it! I don’t mind it being small as long as I can be on my own.”
Tansy, who had expected a fuss, looked at her in surprise. “That’s settled then.”
Nina crossed to the coffee pot keeping hot on the range and poured herself a cup from it. “There’s another thing. I’ve told Ed-ward that out of the kindness of your heart you are putting up the racing friends and acquaintances of Dominic and the late Oliver Marlow, who are unable to find accommodation elsewhere for the race week.”
Judith managed a half-jocular tone. “I’m sure neither Tansy nor I will let the vulgar word lodging house’ pass our lips.”
Nina glowered at her but seemed to decide against any answering retort. She sipped the coffee. “I have something else to tell you. Edward is giving a grand house party the weekend after next to gather together all his cousins and aunts and uncles and any other member of his family who lives far afield and whom I’ve yet to meet. You are both to be invited, and Roger too. Amelia was included as a matter of course, and for mercy’s sake see that she doesn’t overdress! Did you see how many rings and necklaces and brooches she was wearing last night? She really is the coarsest creature!”
“Shh!” Judith said reprovingly. “It would upset her if she should hear you.”
Nina rounded on her with unnecessary fury. “I don’t care if she does! It’s all her hateful fault that we were landed in this awful predicament of having to live with her in the first place. Have you forgotten that she was Papa’s whore? Or that Rushmere was his own private bordello?”
The ugly, heart-torn, miserable words seemed to hang in the air of the quiet kitchen as she put shaking fingertips over her mouth, her eyes closing tight in an agony of her own suffering. Judith dropped back onto the table the loaf she had begun to shape.
“What’s the matter, Nina? There’s something new troubling you, isn’t there?”
“No, of course not!” Nina snatched up the cup she had poured and took a deep drink, adopting a defiant, blustering attitude. “It’s the strain of these past weeks telling on me. Thank heaven, I’ll have to spend less time in this house from now on!”
“Edward’s house party sounds inviting,” Tansy said, deciding it was best to move Nina on to more pleasant paths of thought, “but I doubt that Roger will be able to have time off to go there — or that he would want to, for that matter. If he doesn’t call in soon today I’ll walk along to Ainderly Hall sometime and see him about it.”
Later in the day Nina removed her belongings into the box room. She also tested the stair to make sure she knew which ones creaked and which did not. When it came near the time of her assignation with Adam she made the excuse that she was going for a walk and went up to the closet in the room that was now Judith’s and Tansy’s where she had left her outdoor garments and some of the dresses that she had no room for in her new quarters. She went to take down one cloak, but then her hand hovered and with a quick decision she took another and swept it around her shoulders as she went from the room, down the stairs, and out of the house.
She had decided it was safer and there was less chance of her being observed if she took one of the paths through the woods instead of going by way of the
lane. She knew the house, which had stood empty since before she and the others had come to Cudlingham, having seen it often on walks. It was known locally as the Brick Kiln House, and in spite of its drab name it was a large stone house of pleasing proportions, ivy thick upon its walls, and a big, iron-hinged door. When she approached it from the cover of the woods she saw that the protecting boards had been removed from the windows, but no light shone through any of the curtains.
At the gate she halted, summoning up her courage, wanting desperately to turn and run, but she dared not. The flagged path was newly weeded and there were signs that a start had been made to get the garden into order. She reached for the knocker, but the door opened and Adam, lamp in hand, stood back to let her enter, the glow making bright planes and dark hollows of his face. He was in waistcoat and shirt sleeves.
“You’re on time,” he said approvingly as if he had not expected her to be punctual. “This way. Follow me.”
He led her without preamble up the stairs and across the landing into a large bedroom where a log fire leaped in the wide grate, its dancing glow reflected on the tall mahogany head of the broad bed with its turned-down white linen. He set the lamp on a bow-fronted chest of drawers and closed the door that she had left open behind her. Her hood half-covered her face and he drew it back so that it fell from her head, her hair becoming a blaze of rich colour in the firelight. He caught his breath audibly and touched a curling strand of it.
“Did you meet anyone on the way?” he asked thickly.
She shook her head. “I came by a path through the woods that Judith and I discovered one day. It’s very overgrown. I don’t believe anybody else ever uses it.”
“Good.” He unfastened her cloak and took it from her to cast over the arm of a chair.
When he turned her about to unhook the back of her gown she crossed her hands instinctively across her breasts for the moment when the bodice would fall from her shoulders, and she was thankful that her face was hidden from him.
“Suppose I —” Her lower lip was quivering violently and she seemed to have no control over it for speech. She made another attempt to voice the awful possibility uppermost in her mind.
The Marlows Page 19
