by Joan Wolf
I have no idea how long we stayed like that. Dimly I was aware of the crackle of the fire, of the sound of the trees rustling gently outside the window. He let me slide slowly down along him until I was back on my feet again, then his right hand moved up to the back of my head, cupping it in his palm, supporting it as he bent me backward. I closed my eyes.
He pushed me away with such abruptness that I stumbled and almost fell.
“No,” he said. His voice sounded hoarse and he was breathing as if he had been running. All the pulses in my body were hammering, and I stared at him in bewilderment. I was stunned by what had just happened between us.
“I am not going to make matters worse by consummating this farce of a marriage,” he said between his teeth.
He had pulled my hair loose from its pins and it was beginning to slide down my back. My lips were probably bruised and swollen. I backed away a few more steps and said, with as much dignity as I could manage, “I was not the one who initiated that kiss, my lord.”
He had gotten his breathing under control. His own hair had become disordered and was hanging over his forehead. I felt a sudden, illicit desire to reach up and run my fingers through it. Like a child resisting temptation, I crossed my arms and tucked my hands under my armpits.
“You will remain here at Lambourn for the time being,” he said, ignoring my comment about the kiss. “The marriage will have to be acknowledged—Charlwood will certainly see to that—but he can’t make me introduce you to society as my wife.”
There was obviously a history of bad blood between my uncle and Greystone, but this definitely was not the time to make inquiries. He was looking as if he expected a reply from me. “That is so, my lord,” I said politely.
My submissiveness did not seem to please him.
“I will not be spending the night here,” he said. “I am going to ride on to Greystone Abbey.”
Greystone Abbey was his chief estate, and I knew it lay near Newbury, some fifteen miles away. It was fully dark by now, but I certainly wasn’t going to try to persuade him to stay. “Yes, my lord,” I said in the same polite voice as before. He scowled, and I backed up one more step. As soon as I realized what I had done, I stepped forward again. I uncrossed my arms, stood straight, and looked him in the eye. He looked as if he was going to say something else, but then he turned and strode out of the room. The door closed behind him with a very final thud. I went to the window seat, sat down, and began to shake.
Chapter Four
“Just a little bit of bread and cheese, Mrs. Noakes?” I coaxed. “I’m frozen and I need food to help me thaw out.”
I loved the kitchen at Lambourn. It was always so delightfully warm and cozy, with delicious smells emanating from the great iron stove and a fire blazing in the big stone fireplace. I sat at the well-worn wooden table and watched as the housekeeper, who was also the cook, turned to me with her hands on her ample hips.
“If you had the sense of a booby bird, my lady, you’d know enough not to go out into this weather,” she scolded. “Lord knows you don’t have enough flesh on your bones to keep you warm in decent weather, let alone in the cold rain we’ve been having this last week.”
I gave her my most ingratiating smile. “I just went down to the stable for a while.”
Mrs. Noakes came over to the table and picked up my hands to test their temperature. They were still extremely cold. She clucked—she really did look quite remarkably like a hen—and said, “You’ll be getting chilblains if you don’t watch out. Fine things for the Countess of Greystone to have on her hands!”
“Even if I do get them, no one will ever know,” I said cheerfully, and ignored the look that Mrs. Noakes exchanged with her husband, who was Lambourn’s general man of work.
“Mrs. Noakes is right, my lady,” the old man said gruffly.
“Willie and George can look after those horses. There’s no need for you to go out in such nasty weather.” He beetled his bushy gray eyebrows together and added meaningfully, “Particularly in that thin old pelisse of yours.”
I sighed. Mr. and Mrs. Noakes were dears, and I had become very fond of them in the eight months I had been residing at Lambourn Manor. I knew they were fond of me too, but for some reason they persisted in treating me like a wayward and not overly intelligent child. They might call me “my lady,” but on their lips it sounded more like a child’s pet name than a title.
“I just went to visit Elsa,” I said now patiently. Elsa was a beautiful bay Thoroughbred mare who belonged to Adrian. When he had first joined the army and gone off to fight Napoleon he had sent her here to Lambourn, where the grass was heaven for horses. She had basically been retired until I arrived and decided to put her back into condition so I would be able to ride. She was sixteen, perfectly sound, perfectly healthy, and delighted to be useful once again. I adored her.
Mrs. Noakes snorted, but she brought me a plate of hot soup as well as a wedge of cheddar cheese and a loaf of fresh bread. I grinned at her, picked up my spoon, and dipped in.
“There was mail for you today, my lady,” Mr. Noakes said after a few moments. He was sitting across from me at the table having one of the dozens of cups of tea that he drank during the course of the day.
My head came up alertly. “There was?”
“I put it in the library.”
The soup was hot, and I blew on my spoonful before putting it in my mouth. When he did not volunteer anything more, I knew the letter had to be from Louisa. If it had come from either France or Ireland, Mr. Noakes would have said something.
Mrs. Noakes lifted the cover of an iron kettle pot on the stove and inspected the contents carefully. She sniffed, nodded, and turned back to me. “I have told you many times, my lady, that you should invite your cousin to stay with you at Lambourn Manor. It is not right for so young a girl to be alone all the time.”
“We have been through this before, Mrs. Noakes,” I said as I blew on another spoonful of soup. “I would love to have my cousin to stay with me, but I will not trespass on Lord Greystone’s hospitality. Besides,” I gave the two old dears an affectionate look, “I am not alone. I have you.”
They ignored the compliment. They did not consider themselves worthy companions for me, because they were servants. “His lordship would not mind you sending for your cousin,” Mr. Noakes said.
“You don’t know that,” I countered.
But Mr. Noakes was plowing remorselessly on. “Nor would his lordship mind if you took some of the household money to buy yourself a warm coat, my lady.”
I shook my head adamantly. “I will not take his lordship’s money. I am living in his house and eating his food, and that is quite enough, I think.”
Both old people stared at me, frustration written large upon their honest faces. In truth, if they regarded me as a child, I had rather come to regard them as my grandparents. “Don’t fret about me,” I told them. “I am very happy with the way things are.”
“It’s not right,” Mrs. Noakes muttered. She turned and banged a pot down on the stove. “It wasn’t well done of his lordship to bring you here and then leave you as if you didn’t exist.”
“I am quite sure he wishes that I did not exist,” I said candidly, “and I can’t blame him.”
I had confided in them both the story of my marriage, and so they knew why Greystone had dumped me so unceremoniously on their doorstep. For some reason, however, they had constituted themselves my champions, although I kept pointing out that I was not the one who had been most wronged.
They hadn’t taken my part at the beginning, of course. They thought Greystone walked on water, and when I told them the story of what my uncle had forced him to do, they were quite chilly to me. This lasted for about a month. I understood their feelings perfectly and did my best not to be a nuisance. It was when I got sick that they changed.
I had walked into the village, just for something to do, and on the way home I began to feel unwell. It was a three-mile walk and by the tim
e I got back to Lambourn my legs felt so wobbly that I was afraid I wasn’t going to make it.
Mrs. Noakes had met me at the door. “My lady! Where were you? We have been looking for you all over the estate!”
“I walked to the village,” I said. I remember that she looked very peculiar, as if I were seeing her through a fog.
She was appalled. “Walked! Why did you walk? If you wanted to go to the village, Willie would have driven you.”
“I didn’t want to be a bother,” I said, and fainted at her feet.
Well, she sent for the doctor, and then she sat up with me all night long, periodically feeding me a horrible-tasting medicine. I was so confused that once or twice I actually thought she was my mother. By the time I was well again, we were friends.
Her change of heart did not surprise me. I have often noticed how attached one can get to a creature one has nursed through an illness. I have felt it myself with horses I have taken care of when they were sick.
I finished my soup and cut myself a slice of cheese. “What’s for dinner?” I asked Mrs. Noakes, sniffing appreciatively at the fragrance that was wafting from the biggest pot on the stove.
“Lamb stew. One of your favorites, my lady.”
“Yum.” I finished the cheese in my mouth and cut another slice. “You are a superlative cook, Mrs. Noakes.”
“You are scarcely a judge, my lady,” the old woman said disapprovingly. “From what you tell me, you have spent your entire life eating nothing but wretched lodging-house food.”
“It was not always wretched,” I replied.
Mrs. Noakes clucked again. Nothing I said could convince her that the life I had led with my father was not disgraceful. She cast one more look over the pots on the stove and came to the table to take her customary chair. I waited for her to make the little sighing noise she always gave when her weight was lifted from her feet. She made the noise and I smothered a smile.
“Mr. Crawford is coming tomorrow,” Mr. Noakes said next.
“That will be nice.” Mr. Crawford was the Earl of Greystone’s man of business. He kept the accounts for all of Adrian’s estates. He had been to Lambourn twice before, to check on the estate. I had found him to be a very pleasant man.
“I will serve dinner in the dining room,” Mrs. Noakes said.
I knew what she was hinting. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Noakes, I won’t tell him that I usually eat in the kitchen. I promise.”
She compressed her lips and nodded. This business of my taking my dinner in the kitchen with her and Mr. Noakes worried her dreadfully. On the one hand, she could see that I would find it very lonesome eating by myself in the dining room, but on the other hand she hated the thought of the Countess of Greystone eating in the kitchen. I thought she was making a great fuss about nothing, but then I would be the first to confess that I knew nothing about being a countess.
I never told her about the card games that Willie and George and I played in the office at the stable. She would have been aghast.
“I will wear my blue dress for Mr. Crawford and do my best to act like a lady,” I said to Mrs. Noakes.
“You are a lady,” the housekeeper said fiercely.
I gave her my best smile. “You’re prejudiced because you like me.” I stood up. “Thank you for the soup and the cheese.”
I made my way to the library and collected my letter, which Mr. Noakes had left lying next to the clock on the mantelpiece. I read it standing in front of the fire, and when I had finished I refolded it slowly, trying not to feel hurt and disappointed.
Poor Louisa, I thought. Her wretched nieces and nephews had all come down with mumps and her letter had been filled with the woes of taking care of them.
The one piece of news I had been hoping for had not been forthcoming. I have heard nothing from a man called Paddy O’Grady, Louisa had written. I wrote to the housekeeper at Charlwood, as you requested, and no one of that name has made inquiries about you there either, Kate.
I bit my lip and stared into the flames. I had spent a good part of the winter thinking about the manner of my father’s death, and I badly wanted to talk to Paddy.
I was going to have to think of some way of tracking him down.
* * * *
I went to the stable earlier than usual the following morning, then I put on my blue dress and waited for Mr. Crawford to arrive.
I suppose I should mention here that my wardrobe was another source of disagreement between me and the Noakeses. After my marriage, Cousin Louisa had sent all my clothes to Lambourn, but I had sent back all of the clothing that my uncle had paid for. I would rather have worn rags.
To listen to Mr. and Mrs. Noakes, you would have thought I was wearing rags. This was simply not true. My clothes were in perfectly decent condition. They might not be fashionable, but they were very far from being rags. The blue dress was particularly nice—Papa had bought it for my eighteenth birthday and it had cost him half the price of a nice young mare he had just sold. “It almost matches your eyes, Kate,” he had said with his most irresistible smile. “I couldn’t find a perfect match—no dye is that vivid a blue.”
I remembered his words as I was getting dressed, and they made me smile. It was becoming less painful for me to think of my father. I suppose that old saw about time healing all wounds has some truth to it after all.
When I had worn the dress for Mr. Crawford’s first visit I had been so thin that it had hung on me. It fit very well today—a tribute, I thought, to Mrs. Noakes’s good cooking.
I was sitting primly in one of the embroidered chairs in the drawing room when Mr. Noakes appeared to announce the arrival of our visitor, who came into the room on his heels.
“My lady.” Mr. Crawford was a young Scotsman who took his position very seriously. After Adrian’s father had died, Adrian had pensioned off the old earl’s man of business and had employed Mr. Crawford. Mr. Crawford was of impeccable lineage, but he was also the middle child in a family of nine. He was intensely grateful for the position and tended to speak of Adrian as if he were the second coming of the Messiah.
“You poor thing,” I said as I took in his frozen appearance. “Go right upstairs. There is a fire going in your bedroom and Robert will bring you some hot tea.” He gave me a grateful smile, murmured a few polite words about my graciousness, and disappeared up the stairs in the direction of the bedroom he always used.
He looked better when he came into the drawing room an hour later. I was waiting for him and we went into dinner.
Mr. Noakes and Robert served us Mrs. Noakes’s delicious wine-sauce chicken. Robert came every day to help Mr. Noakes around the house, but he lived with an aged grandmother in one of the cottages on the estate grounds. The other servant was Nancy, who also lived in one of the cottages. She came to the manor every morning with her father, who saw to the garden.
“I have been in communication with the earl about you, my lady,” Mr. Crawford said as he took an abstemious sip of his wine. I had been admiring the large lump Robert was sporting on his forehead due to a fall on some ice, but these words captured my undivided attention.
“About me?” To my chagrin, my voice squeaked. I cleared my throat.
“Yes. He has authorized me to pay you a quarterly allowance. I have the first payment with me.”
I could feel my jaw drop. I closed it firmly. “He doesn’t...” I cleared my throat again. “He doesn’t have to do that. I don’t need any money.”
“Yes, my lady, you do.” He was looking at me out of troubled hazel eyes. “If the earl had not been called to Paris so abruptly, he would have taken care of this matter before he left.” He was so sweetly serious as he lied to me that I didn’t have the heart to contradict him.
Adrian had not rejoined the army, nor had he been called to Paris abruptly. He had gone back to France of his own choice and in a civilian capacity, as I knew from the one terse note I had received from him on the subject. His ostensible reason for this return had been that the Duke
of Wellington needed his assistance in dealing with the friction that was constantly breaking out between French citizens and the Army of Occupation. I knew the real reason why Adrian had returned to Paris, however. He had done it to get away from me.
“Is ... is his lordship remaining in Paris?” I asked anxiously.
Mr. Crawford looked at me with pity. “I am afraid that he is, my lady.”
Obviously this poor young man thought he was giving me grievous news. “Oh,” I said, afraid to say anything more lest my words betray my delight. I was happy here at Lambourn, and as long as Adrian stayed in Paris I could go on pretending that it was really my home.
“The Duke of Wellington has found the earl’s assistance to be invaluable,” Mr. Crawford assured me. “The duke himself is rather... blunt. The earl, on the other hand, knows how to be diplomatic. This is of great importance when one is dealing with the French.”
This was excellent news. Let Adrian stay in Paris and be a diplomat. However, I still did not want to take his money, and I said so.
“I understand from Mrs. Noakes that you need a new winter pelisse,” Mr. Crawford said.
“There is nothing wrong with my pelisse! It may be a little shabby, but it is perfectly warm.”
“My lady, the Countess of Greystone cannot wear clothing that is a little shabby.”
“No one sees me.”
“The tenants see you. The people in the village see you. How do you think it will make the earl appear if his people see his wife wearing shabby clothes?”
“Perhaps they will think I am eccentric.” I wasn’t willing to give up yet.
“They will blame him,” Mr. Crawford said. “It is not fair of you to put him into a position where he will not appear to advantage in front of his own people.”
I hadn’t thought of it that way. I regarded the gilt edging of my dinner plate, and thought. Then, “Are you certain he wished me to have this allowance?” I asked anxiously.
“Quite certain, my lady.” He smiled at me. He was quite a nice-looking young man when he smiled.
