by Mary Nichols
‘Then, Mama, if you will excuse me from church attendance, I shall accompany Miss Bywater,’ Richard said. He turned to Diana. ‘If you are agreeable, of course.’
How did he know she was dreading having to face Mrs Beales again? The woman had a caustic tongue and was just as likely to throw her things out in the street as allow her inside to pack them and remove them carefully. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly.
Mr and Mrs Harecroft and Stephen trooped out and she and Richard were left alone. ‘Come up and talk to Great-Grandmama while I make the arrangements,’ he said. ‘She likes to stay in her room until noon these days, but I know she will be pleased to see you.’
She followed him upstairs and stood outside while he knocked on the old lady’s door. Mathilde answered it. ‘Tell Lady Harecroft I have a visitor for her,’ he said.
‘Have you brought Miss Bywater?’ a voice called from inside the room.
‘Yes, Great-Grandmama. Everyone else has gone to church.’
‘Then do not stand dithering outside, bring her in.’
Richard took her elbow to lead her into the room. The old lady was dressed in a black silk peignoir with a matching lace cap on top of her white hair. She was sitting in a chair by the window with a book on her lap and a large magnifying glass in one hand. She put it down and closed her book as Diana moved forward and bobbed a curtsy. ‘My lady.’
‘Miss Bywater has agreed to stay with us until her papa comes out of hospital,’ Richard said.
‘Good. Sit down on that stool where I can see you, child. Goodness, you are still in working clothes.’
‘Yes, I am going to my lodgings to fetch my belongings, my lady, then I shall make myself more presentable.’
‘I wonder if we might borrow your carriage, Great-Grandmama,’ Richard put in. ‘Mama and Papa have gone to church in theirs.’
‘Of course you can, you do not need to ask. Where is Stephen?’
‘Gone to church with them.’
‘Really?’ She sounded surprised.
‘He cannot get on with my landlady, my lady,’ Diana said, feeling she ought to defend the young man. ‘She is very outspoken. They had an altercation.’
‘I am surprised at that. Stephen is usually so mild-mannered.’
‘He was defending me.’
‘Ah, then it is understandable. Go on, Richard, what are you waiting for? Order out the carriage.’
He disappeared and the old lady settled down for a chat. ‘Now, my dear, tell me how your papa is.’
Diana repeated what she had told everyone else, wondering as she did so, if Richard had said anything at all about her father’s drinking habits. ‘I am very glad Mr Harecroft was on hand to help me,’ she said.
‘Mr Harecroft.’ The old lady chuckled. ‘There are three of them and so that we know one from the other, they are known as Mr John, Mr Richard and Mr Stephen by servants and employees.’
‘Then I referred to Mr Richard. He escorted me home and was present when my father had his seizure. I am very grateful. Mr Stephen took me to see my father last night and that was when he spoke to my landlady…’
The old lady smiled. ‘And now you feel as though you are being buffeted in a violent storm.’
‘Something like that. Everyone is so forceful. At any other time I would have been able to withstand it, but with my father lying helpless and Mr John Harecroft being my employer, I feel powerless. I am sorry if that sounds ungracious.’
‘No, I can understand that.’ She paused. ‘Tell me about yourself. For instance, where were you born, where were you educated?’
‘I was born in Portsmouth, my lady, and educated by my parents. Because we were always on the move, I had no formal schooling.’
‘Your parents appear to have made a very good fist of it. It suggests to me that they were well educated themselves.’
‘I have always assumed so, I do not really know.’
‘Have you never been curious about that, about their history? Do you not sometimes wonder who they were, the families they came from?’
‘I always understood they had no immediate family. Papa always said we were his family, Mama and I, and he did not want anyone else. She and Papa were devoted, which is why her death hit him so hard.’
‘It must have been a sad time for you, too.’
‘It was, my lady. But we have managed, Papa and I, until his seizure, that is. What I cannot understand is why everyone is so anxious to help me.’
‘Because you are you, child.’
And on that enigmatic note the conversation was ended by the return of Richard, who said the carriage was at the door.
‘Off you go, then,’ her ladyship said. ‘I shall see you both at luncheon.’
Once again Diana found herself alone in Richard’s company. The more she knew of him, the more she appreciated his qualities, especially his understanding and his way of handling tricky situations. It was difficult to believe that he was supposed to be a black sheep. And what had her ladyship meant by saying you are you? Of course she was, but there was more to it than that. She followed Richard downstairs and out to the carriage, determined to find out what Lady Harecroft meant.
Chapter Four
‘Mr Harecroft,’ she began when they were seated in the luxurious carriage and being conveyed to St Thomas’s hospital. ‘You said you thought we had met before.’
‘So I did. Have you remembered the occasion?’
‘No, I am sure we have not. But do you think Lady Harecroft thinks that too and she is muddling me up with someone else?’
‘Great-Grandmama is rarely muddled, Miss Bywater. Her faculties are as sharp as ever they were. I should bear that in mind if you should ever think of deceiving her.’
‘But you were the one who said there was no need to tell anyone. Between you and me and no one else’s business, you said.’
‘I did not mean that.’
‘Then what did you mean?’
‘I meant taking advantage of an old lady’s generosity.’
‘Coming to Harecroft House was none of my doing, Mr Harecroft, you know that. I expected my services to be dispensed with when my circumstances became known, but that seems not to be the case. Even though Mr Stephen was appalled, he has not withdrawn his proposal. And surely it is up to him and his parents to question my motives, not you.’
‘Touché, Miss Bywater. But perhaps the onlooker sees more of the game.’
‘I am not playing games, Mr Harecroft.’
It was said sharply, to put him down. He was not used to that. ‘Neither am I.’
‘If your brother wishes to marry me, I cannot see it has anything to do with you. You would not like him to interfere in your life, would you?’
He acknowledged the truth of that with a wry smile. ‘No, but then he would not dare.’
He was insufferably arrogant at times, she decided, even as she acknowledged the debt she owed him. She supposed it was inherent in his nature, or perhaps the result of his military career, to take charge, and she had been glad of that when her father was taken ill, but she had expressed her gratitude more than once and she did not see why she should allow him to question her motives. She had done nothing to deserve it.
He turned to look at her. She was looking straight ahead, but he could tell by the heightened colour in her cheeks and the set of her jaw that he had made her uncomfortable, but his moment of triumph was quickly dashed by an incongruous wish to protect her. ‘If Stephen loves you…’
‘If,’ she repeated. ‘Have you any reason to believe that he does not?’
‘One must suppose he does or he would not have asked you to marry him.’ He paused and turned to look closely at her. ‘I assume he has asked?’
‘Oh, yes.’
‘And?’
‘I have not given him an answer.’
‘Then I should be very, very sure before you say yes, Miss Bywater. Marriage is for life and you cannot change your mind once committed.’
‘Why
should I change my mind?’
‘I was speaking hypothetically.’
‘Oh, I see.’ She was reminded of the conversation she had overheard between the brothers. Richard had been urging Stephen to tell her something. She could not ask him what he meant without revealing that she had been eavesdropping. She was curious. Perhaps in the next few days while she was staying at Harecroft House, she might discover what it was. And she might also find out why Lady Harecroft had taken her under her wing and why Mr Richard Harecroft was so protective of the old lady. Did he suppose she was a fortune hunter? Such an idea had never entered her head. All she wanted was a job that paid a decent wage and a comfortable home. Was that asking too much?
She was still musing on this as they crossed the bridge and arrived outside the hospital. He jumped down, threw a few coppers to an urchin to mind the pony and turned to hand her down and escort her to the ward.
James was sitting up in bed, staring into space. He saw Diana and managed to lift his right hand and she was thankful that his seizure had not struck him on that side. ‘Papa, how are you?’ She bent to kiss his cheek. His answer was a mumble. ‘And here is Mr Richard Harecroft to see you.’ He looked past her to see Richard behind her and his face contorted in a semblance of a smile and his eyes lit up with pleasure.
Richard leaned forward to take his hand. ‘Glad to see you are improving, Captain.’
More mumbling before they understood anything of what he was saying, but Richard seemed to guess what he meant before she did. He was worried about her being on her own and about Toby, whom he missed.
‘I am not on my own, Papa. Mr Harecroft senior has invited me to stay at Harecroft House while you are here. And Toby is there, too. Everyone has been very kind. You are not to worry about a thing.’
They spent a little more time with him and then were told he needed to rest and they left him, looking brighter than he had when they arrived. ‘I shall come tomorrow evening,’ Diana told him. ‘After work. It is Monday tomorrow and we are very busy.’
‘You did not tell him about leaving Mrs Beales,’ Richard said as they made their way back to the carriage.
‘No, there is no sense in worrying him unnecessarily. By the time he is ready to leave, I shall have found us somewhere else to live.’
‘You are determined on that, then.’
‘Yes, I am. You must allow me a little pride, Mr Harecroft. I have been independent all my life. I cannot change what I am.’
‘I would not change a hair of your head,’ he said, directing the coachman and getting into the carriage beside her. ‘You are admirable as you are.’
‘Mr Harecroft, you are flirting with me. Please refrain.’
The words had slipped from his tongue without conscious thought; he had certainly not said them in order to flirt with her, though when he came to consider the matter he realised he might enjoy doing so, seeing how far he could go before raising her ire. Not far, it seemed. ‘Nothing was further from my mind,’ he said. ‘I leave that to my brother.’
‘He is a gentleman.’
‘Meaning I am not.’
‘I did not say that. You are confusing me. You have been kind to me and I am grateful, but please do not take gratitude for anything else.’
‘Then I won’t,’ he said curtly, as the carriage stopped. Her coolness was inexplicable, considering she was being offered a way out of her dilemma over her father. Surely any woman in her situation would jump at the chance to marry into money? She was either very foolish or very clever. Although she had denied it, he could not rid himself of the notion he had seen her somewhere before and it worried at his brain like canker. Where? When? How? And why did he want to remember?
He jumped down, banged on the door and, in the face of his obvious authority, Mrs Beales let them in to pack Diana’s belongings into a trunk, two portmanteaux, a wooden box and two hat boxes. When everything had been stowed either in the boot or strapped to the roof, he handed Mrs Beales several guineas for her trouble and escorted Diana out.
‘You are not sorry to leave, are you?’ he asked as they set off again, to the cheers of a small group of onlookers who had been drawn by curiosity over how one of Mrs Beales’s tenants should have such high-and-mighty connections. Some had even climbed on the step of the coach to peer inside.
‘No, except we had trouble enough finding lodgings we could afford when we went there. I am apprehensive about obtaining anything as good for the rent we were paying, bearing in mind that, with the coronation on Thursday, every bed in London must be taken.’
‘Not all of them. There are spare beds in Harecroft House.’
‘I know.’
‘Then why not avail yourself of one of them?’
‘And if I do, will you tell me again I am taking advantage? It is not my fault I am homeless.’
He found himself increasingly intrigued by her. She wavered between stiff reserve and a determination to stand on her dignity to a willingness to trade repartee, to make the apt rejoinder. It was not the attitude of an employee whose job depended on being subservient. Was she manipulating his brother or the other way about? Was her father cunning enough to fake his illness to help his daughter? His collapse in the street had been very sudden and his evasiveness about his family was strange. Was Mrs Beales part of the plot to make them homeless and reliant on Stephen? Were they trying to hoodwink a wealthy old lady? Did they realise she was not easily deceived? The questions plagued him. Having refused to do as his great-grandmother asked, he was beginning to wonder if he ought, after all, to humour her. If he could discover something about Miss Bywater that would put his brother off marrying her, then he would.
‘No,’ he conceded. ‘But it is surely foolish to turn down an offer of help. I have seen what you have had to cope with and I am full of admiration for your courage. It cannot have been easy with your father the way he is.’
‘He cannot seem to help it. It is like an illness, and, because I love him dearly, I do my best for him. He has no one else but me.’
‘I understand. I have seen people like it in the army, too sensitive, too imaginative to make good soldiers and because they are forced into a situation they cannot handle, they drink.’
‘You do not condemn?’
‘No. I always think: there, but for the grace of God, go I.’
‘It is one of the worries I have about accepting Stephen,’ she said, wondering if he had meant he was sensitive or that he had been tempted by the demon drink. He did not give that impression. ‘I would have to tell him and yet I do not want to. It seems disloyal to Papa. But I cannot let him find out as you did.’ Her father’s drinking habits might very well put Stephen off, but as he had promised her he would keep her secret, that way was not open to him.
‘The captain is ill, Miss Bywater. Circumstances have changed. He may have changed. My advice is to wait and see.’
‘Yes, perhaps you are right.’
They fell into silence. Diana could not make him out. One minute he was sceptical and disparaging, almost threatening, the next compassionate and understanding, able to see inside her and divine how she felt without her having to say anything. He could make light of a problem and yet in the space of a second turn to being sombre. He was an enigma and she wondered what had made him that way.
They arrived back at Harecroft House and Diana barely had time to stow her belongings away in her room, with the help of two of the footmen, before the rest of the family returned from church. Hastily she washed and found a dress in cerise-and-cream striped cotton, which was cool and neat and a striking contrast to the serviceable working dress she had been wearing. She put up her hair and went downstairs, feeling more confident.
The family had gathered in the drawing room except Richard and the dowager, but they arrived almost as soon as she had greeted everyone and answered their queries about the progress of her father, and then they all went into luncheon.
‘You had no trouble with Mrs Beales?’ Stephen asked her,
when the servants had left after serving them. ‘You have all your belongings safe and sound?’
‘Yes, thank you. Your brother was a great help.’
‘Then I owe you,’ he said, addressing Richard.
‘Forget it.’
‘I am glad you are clear of that place,’ Stephen went on, speaking to Diana. ‘I would have been worried to death if you had stayed there a moment longer. You could have been killed in your bed, especially when your father is not there.’
‘I never felt at risk,’ she said.
‘What about those little beggars? They presumably have parents somewhere who might use your trusting nature to rob you—’
‘You cannot know they have parents,’ Richard put in. ‘They could be orphans.’
‘Then I would expect them to be in an orphanage or the union, not roaming the street.’
‘Oh, how little you know about how the poor live,’ Richard said. ‘Perhaps you should live among them for a spell, it might open your eyes.’
‘Really, Richard,’ his mother said. ‘How can you say such a thing? I beg you to desist. I, for one, do not want to hear about it.’
Dutifully he fell silent. If he was going to do anything for the poor, it would have to be done alone, for none of his family would support him. They considered him eccentric, if not worse. They paid their taxes and gave to selected charities, always distinguishing the deserving poor from the undeserving, and their consciences did not trouble them. If he had toed the line as a child, if he had only associated with children of whom his parents approved and not run around with the village boys and seen how they lived, if he had not played truant from his boarding school to roam the Berkshire countryside, if he had not gone into the army and shared the lives of his men, talked to them about their homes and families, then he might have had the same attitude.
While he mused, the conversation had moved on to general topics, mostly about the Harecroft business, things happening on the estate at Borstead Hall and the coronation.
Talking of the coronation reminded Diana of Stephen’s invitation to the ball, which, in her concern for her father and everything else, she had forgotten about. Was he still expecting her to go? But she had nothing to wear; buying ball gowns was very low on her list of priorities. It would have been easier to decline the invitation when she was living with Mrs Beales, but as part of the Harecroft household, how could she refuse to go? She had one or two of her mother’s dresses carefully folded among her baggage and one in particular she thought she might alter. In a diaphanous pale green gauze over a paler silk, the skirt was very full and heavily embroidered with swathes of flowers in pink and blue and a delicate yellow, which her mama had worked herself. It was the gown she had taken to show Madame Francoise as an example of her work and which had resulted in her being employed doing the intricate work on that lady’s creations. Although of necessity some of her mother’s things had had to be sold, Diana could not bear to part with all of them and that gown in particular.
