by Anne Ashley
His young brow puckered as he studied his father’s muscular calves, with their covering of dark hairs, before his thoughts returned to the absent groom. ‘I want to ride my pony again. Then I can show you how well I can really ride, Papa, and you will let me ride your horses.’
Julian checked for a moment in the act of rolling up his trousers. Not once since he had attempted to try his equestrian skills on possibly the most spirited horse in the stables had Charles alluded to the incident which had earned him his father’s severest displeasure, nor had he appeared to bear any ill will for the swift punishment he had received, which Julian considered was very much to the boy’s credit.
‘I have seen you ride often enough to be certain that you will one day make a fine horseman, my son, and you may be certain that I shall always keep you suitably mounted.’
‘Patrick said he thought you were a fine rider, Papa,’ Charles disclosed, while reaching for one of the fishing-rods, and dangling his small feet playfully in the stream. ‘Patrick said that Grandpapa James told him once that you’d have to go a long way to find anyone with a finer seat on a horse than Mama.’
Did he now? Julian mused, much struck by this ingenuous disclosure. Not once since her return to Wroxam Park had Jennifer availed herself of any of the horses in the stable. He had assumed, quite wrongly it seemed, that she no longer cared for riding. This had not occurred to him as in any way out of the ordinary. Many females appeared to lose interest in that particular form of exercise once they had given birth. Furthermore, he couldn’t say that he could ever recall her betraying any real zeal for being in the saddle. She had been, as far as he could remember, merely a competent horsewoman, nothing more.
‘Evidently your mama acquired a partiality for that particular form of exercise when you lived in Ireland, Charles?’
‘She was always with Grandpapa James, in the stables or riding about the land with him. He was very old, and Mama looked after him. She loved him very much, and cried and cried when he died. And Mama never cries, but she did then. I sometimes think she still looks sad now. I don’t like it when Mama is sad.’
‘No,’ Julian responded softly, staring for a moment at some distant spot on the far bank of the stream. ‘Perhaps she’ll be happier when Patrick returns with her horse.’
Excitement glittered in the boy’s eyes. ‘Is Patrick bringing Mama’s horse?’
‘I believe so, yes. She is something of a troublesome filly, I understand.’
Charles, casting his father a surprised glance, didn’t hesitate to enlighten him. ‘But Oriel’s a gelding, sir! Mama loves Oriel nearly as much as she loves me. If it hadn’t been for Mama taking care of him he would have died when he was a foal. Mama is very clever,’ he continued, not for the first time in Julian’s presence betraying the deep love he bore his mother. ‘She can do anything. She can play cricket, and she can fish too. She caught a trout once, as long…as long as your arm, Papa!’
‘Which is more than you will manage to do, my son, if you continue chattering,’ a voice from behind remarked, and Julian swivelled round to see Jennifer emerge from the clump of trees by the stream’s edge.
Just how long she had been hovering there he had no way of knowing, but he suspected, by the hint of wry amusement pulling at her lips, some little time.
‘You should not pay too much heed to everything my son tells you, my lord,’ she advised, moving from beneath the shadow of the trees, with a look in Charles’s direction which managed to convey a deal of affection as well as mild exasperation. ‘Occasionally he is inclined to view his mama through a rosy haze. Furthermore, he appears to have developed an unfortunate tendency to indulge in harmless exaggeration.’
Julian found himself effortlessly smiling too at this further example of his wife’s ruthless honesty. To say that their relationship was increasingly improving would, he knew, place him in danger of succumbing to his son’s harmless complaint. Thankfully, though, there had been several occasions in recent days when there had been less restraint on Jennifer’s part, and her manner towards him had bordered almost on the friendly, most especially when Charles was present.
‘I was beginning to suspect it was a whale you must have caught, m’dear,’ he teased gently. ‘If I’d realised just what an accomplished angler you’d become I would have suggested that you join us.’ A gleam of hope softened his eyes. ‘It isn’t too late. I could easily return to the house for an extra rod if you would care to bear us company for an hour or so.’
‘Another time, perhaps,’ she responded, after a moment when she appeared as though she might accept the invitation. ‘I have one or two letters I must write.’
Jennifer turned to her son, who continued to splash his bare feet playfully in the stream. ‘Perhaps if you can manage to sit still for a few minutes, and give your tongue a rest too, you just might succeed in catching some fish which can be eaten at supper.’ Her eyes began to twinkle. ‘But as I place little reliance on your powers of self-control, I do not believe I shall suggest Mrs Quist change the menu for this evening.’
Jennifer could not forbear a smile at her son’s mischievous chuckles as she turned and made her way through the small copse, aware that grey eyes, perhaps still betraying that hint of disappointment, were following her progress.
If the truth were known, she would very much have liked to remain with them, but wiser counsel had prevailed. Although it was impossible to avoid totally the company of the man she had married, she was honest enough to admit that when they were together she felt increasingly vulnerable, increasingly threatened, regarding him as more the man, less the adversary. Increasingly she was finding it difficult to ignore that raw masculinity and abundance of charm he could exert when he chose.
She shook her head almost in disbelief. It was so hard to equate the image she had built up over the years of a cold, aloof monster whose wrath could be quite merciless, with the engaging gentleman who joined her for dinner most evenings and whose charisma was hard to ignore. Little wonder, she mused, why so many women over the years had fallen under his wholly masculine spell and had been very willing to engage in more intimate relations with him. It was just a great pity that she had not been so free with her charms as Wroxam, if common report was to be believed, had been with his during their long separation.
The truth of the matter was, of course, she had been more than content with James O’Connell’s company and the platonic friendship and camaraderie she had enjoyed over the years with his people. With hindsight, however, it might have been wiser if she had allowed her chaste mantle to slip from time to time and engaged in the odd affair. Her experience of the opposite sex would then have vastly increased, and she might now find herself more able to resist this ever-growing attraction she was experiencing towards the man she had married.
Oh, yes, her position was precarious indeed, she was forced to concede. She was here on sufferance, nothing more. It may have been an act of generosity on Wroxam’s part, a rare altruistic gesture to allow her to remain; but her position was far from secure. If she disgraced him in any way, if she displayed the remotest interest in any other man, she didn’t doubt for a moment that he would turn again into that merciless, intractable man she well remembered.
She would be foolish ever to drop her guard, to allow a closer relationship to develop between them. That could only leave her open to heartache and the searing pain of rejection which she could also well remember.
As she moved towards the steps leading up to the mansion, the door opened suddenly and James the footman stepped out. ‘Oh, your ladyship,’ he beamed, with every evidence of delight at seeing her. ‘I was about to come in search of you. There’s a lady in the front parlour wishing to see you.’
‘Mrs Royston?’ Jennifer queried, with a sudden lowering feeling. She was finding the attractive widow’s ever-increasing visits something of a trial.
‘No, my lady. Someone you met during your stay in London, I understand. She was reluctant to give a name.�
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Intrigued, Jennifer went straight into the sunny parlour, and recognised at once the figure staring out of the window at the wonderful view of the lake. ‘Serena, what a delightful surprise!’ The wan smile she received in response was not quite what she might have expected, and the disquiet she had experienced during her walk back across the park returned with a vengeance. ‘Come, let us sit down, and you can tell me to what I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit.’
‘I doubt you’ll consider my unexpected arrival such a pleasure, Jenny, when you know why I’m here,’ Serena disclosed, as she allowed herself to be led across to the sofa. ‘You might consider that I’m trading on our brief acquaintance. You see, Jenny, I suppose you might say I’ve run away.’
The admission, far from producing an exclamation of shock or dismay, merely evoked an expression of wry amusement. ‘You do not appear in the least surprised, Jennifer. It isn’t the normal behaviour of well brought-up young ladies.’
‘Oh, I don’t know,’ she responded, after a moment’s reflection, the wickedly wry smile more pronounced than ever. ‘I certainly know of one other who resorted to such drastic measures.’
‘Who?’ Serena demanded to know, momentarily forgetting her own unfortunate predicament.
‘Me,’ her ladyship answered with simple pride. ‘Although, in my case, I suppose it would be more accurate to say that I simply left this house and never bothered to return. One is forced to resort to drastic measures when one’s life has become unbearable.’ Sympathy and understanding flickered in her eyes. ‘I assume that is what has happened in your case, Serena?’
She nodded. ‘Life at home has become quite intolerable since I refused to marry Lord Sloane.’
This did manage to elicit an exclamation of mingled shock and dismay. ‘Marry Lord Sloane…? Serena, you cannot be serious!’
‘Unfortunately, I am,’ she confirmed in a heartfelt sigh. ‘Shortly after you had left the capital, Lord Sloane’s attentions became more marked, and to my surprise Mama seemed actively to encourage him. When I began to find excuses not to attend certain parties where I knew he would be present, she became out of all reason cross, and announced that remaining in town was a waste of time and money, as I seemed determined to end my days a spinster. We hadn’t been home a week before Lord Sloane came seeking an interview with Papa.’
Jennifer would have been the first to admit that she didn’t hold Lady Carstairs in particularly high esteem, having decided from the first that she was rather a foolish woman, prone to indulging in idle gossip. Nevertheless, she had never considered her unfeeling.
Harder to understand still was Sir Roderick Carstairs’s attitude in all this. Serena had mentioned on more than one occasion that she and her father were very close. Surely a loving father would never countenance a union with a man of Lord Sloane’s unsavoury reputation?
‘But surely your father sent Lord Sloane about his business, Serena?’ she asked, at last giving voice to her puzzling reflections.
‘I think he most certainly would have done if Mama had not been so set on the marriage.’ Again Serena sighed. ‘I love my father dearly, Jenny, but I’m not blind to his faults. He’s a very weak-willed gentleman in many ways. He always defers to Mama’s wishes.’ She shrugged. ‘Which, I suppose, is quite understandable in the circumstances. You see, years ago he made some unwise investments, and lost a great deal of money. It was only through Mama’s family coming to the rescue that Papa was able to keep the estate. Even now he cannot afford to squander money, so having me off his hands is bound to take a weight off his mind.’
‘Yes, I can appreciate that. But to a man like Sloane!’ Jennifer was appalled, and it clearly showed in both expression and voice. ‘Surely your father must know of his reputation?’
‘Papa does not go about much in society any more,’ Serena responded, once again coming to her father’s defence. ‘I suppose he’s willing to believe that the unsavoury stories concerning Lord Sloane are somewhat exaggerated in view of the fact that Mama is so set on the marriage.’
‘So what do you intend to do now?’ Jennifer enquired, when her friend relapsed into a melancholy silence.
‘I refuse to remain at home, where I’m continually made to feel ungrateful and selfish, and merely a burden on my family. So I have decided, as I have no money of my own, that I must engage in some genteel occupation in order to support myself. And that is why I came to see you, Jenny,’ she confessed in a rush. ‘I remembered that you had promised someone that you would look about for a governess whilst you were in London.’ Her eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope. ‘As you left the capital so suddenly, I thought perhaps that you hadn’t had the opportunity yet to engage a suitable candidate for the position, and might consider putting my name forward for the post.’
‘Oh, I see,’ Jennifer murmured, having the grace to look a little shamefaced. ‘I’m afraid I misled you somewhat. In fact, it was—’
‘I wouldn’t expect any preferential treatment,’ Serena interrupted, fearing that Jennifer might consider that she was trading on their friendship. ‘I received a good education, and have always been an avid reader, therefore I’m certain I could—’
Jennifer herself didn’t hesitate to interrupt this time. ‘It isn’t that I doubt your capabilities, my dear friend. But I did mislead you. It was I who required the services of a governess…for my own son.’
Serena appeared so sincerely astonished that Jennifer didn’t doubt for a moment that she had been completely unaware of Charles’s existence up until that moment. ‘I would have thought that the whole of the polite world would have known by now that Wroxam and I have a child.’
‘It—it may well be so,’ Serena conceded, having now recovered from the shock a little. ‘But Mama and I left London a matter of two weeks after your sudden departure. I must confess that before we left town rumours had begun to circulate about a possible reconciliation between you and his lordship.’
Jennifer’s gurgle of mirth held a distinctly mocking ring. ‘So that is what Society surmises?’
‘Well, I—er—suppose it is understandable,’ Serena suggested, suddenly feeling a little uncomfortable. There was a look in those green eyes which she could not quite interpret and which she did not quite like, a hard, unpleasant gleam that boded ill for someone.
‘I can quite see why you might feel a little uncomfortable employing me as your son’s governess,’ she ventured, hurriedly returning the conversation to the subject that concerned her most at present. ‘I shall quite understand if you are unwilling to offer me the opportunity.’
‘Whether I might feel uncomfortable or not is irrelevant, my dear,’ Jennifer returned gently. ‘The case will not arise. His lordship has decided to engage a tutor for Charles. He interviewed a young man several days ago. Mr Granger seems ideal. He’s a charming young man, and I certainly put forward no objections to his taking up the post. He will commence his duties in a week’s time.’
Serena tried desperately hard not to betray her bitter disappointment, but Jennifer could sense the growing anxiety. She knew well enough what it was like to be abroad in the world with little money and nowhere to go. It was a daunting enough situation for a man, but very much worse for a female, especially if she was without a protector.
‘Have you some kind-hearted relative who might take pity on your plight?’ Jennifer asked, very concerned.
‘There’s my godmother, I suppose. You may remember that you met her on the occasion of your uncle’s ball. She’s frequently asked me to visit her in Bath. But it could only be a temporary arrangement, and I feel I must write first, and not just arrive unexpectedly on her doorstep, especially in the circumstances.’
‘Then do so. And in the meantime…’ having come to a decision, Jennifer rose to her feet ‘…you must remain here as my guest until you receive a reply from your godmother.’
‘But, Jenny, you cannot possibly have me to stay… I mean—I mean, what will his lordship say?’
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‘He’ll be delighted, of course!’ It was perhaps fortunate that Jennifer, making her way across the room to the bell-pull, had her back towards her unexpected visitor, for her expression betrayed something quite different. The truth of the matter was, she had no idea how the master of the house would react to the news that they would be having an uninvited guest to stay for an unspecified time.
Slocombe entered in response to the summons, and Jennifer, admirably maintaining a self-assured air, ordered him to have a room prepared. Then promptly dispatched him to find Mary, and to inform her that her presence was required in the parlour.
‘You must be tired after your journey, Serena, and will no doubt appreciate a lie-down before dinner. Don’t look so worried, my dear. You’ll feel much more the thing after you have had a little nap.’
The door opened, drawing Jennifer’s attention away from her friend’s wan expression. ‘Ah, Mary! You remember Miss Carstairs, I’m sure.’
‘Of course I do. How are you, Miss Carstairs?’
‘In need of your help and tender care, Mary,’ Jennifer responded before Serena could do so. ‘She’s tired after her journey, and I require you to see her comfortably established in her bedchamber, and ensure she has everything she needs.’ Her eyes fell on the rather shabby cloak-bag tucked by the side of the chair. ‘Is that the only luggage you have with you, Serena?’
‘I’m afraid so. I didn’t feel that I could bring too many of my belongings with me.’
‘Very sensible,’ Jennifer agreed, maintaining beautifully the matter-of-fact tone. ‘It is always preferable to travel light if one can possibly do so.’ Reaching out her hands, she drew Serena to her feet. ‘I shall leave you in Mary’s care now, my dear. Try to rest before dinner. I’m afraid we keep country hours here at Wroxam Park and dine at six. I look forward to seeing you again then.’
The instant the door had closed behind them, Jennifer’s bright, reassuring smile vanished, as her thoughts turned to the master of the house. What would he say? She experienced more than just faint disquiet at the thought of approaching him, and then cursed herself for being so spineless. Nervousness when dealing with Wroxam was a sure recipe for disaster. Had she not had experience enough of that in the past? If she had faced up to him before, had not tamely remained here in this house for those weeks at his expressed command, things might have turned out so vastly different between them.
