by Anne Ashley
Perhaps, Serena mused, as the carriage came to a halt outside the impressive front entrance, and she led the way into the house, Jennifer was wary over dropping her guard, thereby making herself vulnerable once more. Undoubtedly she had been bitterly hurt years ago, and although she had fully understood his lordship’s subsequent actions after discovering her in such a compromising situation, she had never forgotten his ice-cold and total rejection. Yes, it was quite understandable why her friend experienced the need to retain a firm grasp on her emotions. But that, Serena reminded herself, did not prevent one from experiencing them, and she could not help wondering for how much longer Jennifer could withstand the Marquis’s undoubted charm and ever-increasing regard.
‘I shall not be accompanying you upstairs,’ Jennifer announced unexpectedly, arresting Serena’s progress across the hall. ‘I would be the first to admit that I am no seamstress, so I shall leave you in Mary’s very capable hands, and see you again at luncheon.’
After divesting herself of bonnet and pelisse, Jennifer paused before the mirror in the hall to tidy one or two errant curls, and then left the house again by way of a side entrance in order to pay her daily visit to the stables. Not once since her return to England almost four months ago had she sat on a horse. She smiled wryly. It felt more like four years. How she had missed her daily ride! Her own fault, of course, she reminded herself. Undoubtedly she had grown foolishly stubborn in recent years. One might even go so far as to say cussed. Cutting off her nose to spite her face, Mary would have said, simply because she was too proud, too obstinate, to accept favours from Wroxam!
And he owned some fine animals, she was forced to admit, moving down the row of stalls, and stopping at each one in turn to stroke the animal it contained. He had always been a fine judge of horseflesh, of course. It wasn’t until her return to Wroxam Park that she had appreciated just how fine a judge he was, however. Every one of his animals was in prime physical condition, and she was forced to own that any man who ensured his livestock received the utmost care could not be totally heartless.
The clatter of hooves on cobblestones interrupted her thoughts, and she went out into the yard once again to see the subject of her thoughts returning from his ride. The smile when he saw her seemed to come effortlessly to his lips, but her own was directed solely at his young companion.
‘You look very pleased with yourself, Charles,’ she remarked, stroking the neck of the steady mare he was still forced to ride.
‘Papa and I went over to visit Colonel Halstead. He asked Papa if he would care to buy the grey mare his daughter used to ride. She’s very pretty, Mama, but I told Papa that she wouldn’t suit you.’
‘Yes, you did, but you didn’t explain why,’ his lordship reminded him, dismounting. ‘I thought that if your Mama was given her own mount she would be more inclined to join us when we go out. Although,’ he added, squinting against the sun’s bright rays, as he noticed a distant figure making his way down the long sweep of the drive, ‘I may have been a little previous.’
Charles, following the direction of his father’s gaze, uttered a squeal of delight. ‘It’s Patrick, Mama! He’s back!’
Whilst Charles continued to jump up and down in excitement, Jennifer moved into the centre of the yard, and waved a hand in welcome, as the distant figure came to a halt.
‘Let him go, Patrick!’ Charles called. ‘Wave again, Mama. Wave again so that he can see you!’
‘I believe my baby already has,’ Julian heard her respond, before returning his gaze to the driveway in time to see a power-ful black hunter break free from the little cavalcade and come galloping towards the stable.
‘No, Papa. No!’ Charles clung to the sleeve of the beautifully tailored coat, as his father made to dash forward. ‘It’s Oriel…Oriel would never hurt Mama! You see…you watch, Papa!’
Easily shaking off the restraining little fingers, Julian remained ready to hurl himself into the big hunter’s path, until he saw Jennifer suddenly raise her hands and hold her arms outstretched in welcome. The big black checked his speed, slowing to a mere trot. Then Julian was privileged to witness a spectacle he had never seen before. The powerful hunter entered the yard and walked straight into the outstretched arms, whinnying softly as Jennifer placed her face against his gleaming black neck. He remained thus, as still as a statue, until finally she raised her head. Then he frisked about her like a playful colt, stopping from time to time to nuzzle her neck and cheeks with his velvety lips.
‘Well, I’ll be damned!’ The head groom, having emerged from one of the stalls to investigate the commotion, took off his hat to scratch his grizzled hair. ‘If I’d paid a visit to Molly Pike’s tavern,’ he announced to no one in particular, ‘I’d swear the ale had gone to me ’ead!’
Chuckling impishly at this sally, Charles darted forward to greet Patrick, as he came trotting into the yard, leading a fine chestnut pony. Julian joined them, nodding his head in approval, after a brief examination of his son’s mount.
‘Aye, he’s a dandy little fellow,’ Patrick agreed, before turning his attention to the by-play still taking place in the centre of the yard. ‘And what be your opinion of the baby, sir?’
‘Some baby!’ Julian scoffed, experiencing a pang of envy at the affectionate way Jennifer was treating the horse. How he wished those slender arms would reach out to him and hold him so lovingly! His expression, however, swiftly changed to one of unmistakable concern. ‘You don’t mean to tell me that that powerful animal is my wife’s usual mount?’
Patrick appeared mildly surprised. ‘To be sure he is, sir! And no one can handle him better. Always been that way since he were a foal. Belongs to the mistress body and soul, the boy does. Why not go and make friends with the lad, sir? It’s always best to give ’em a minute or two alone together, but he’ll be all right now.’
Julian required no further prompting and, with Charles skipping happily alongside, he moved forward to make the powerful black’s acquaintance. Oriel, with a soft whinny of welcome, lowered his neck so that Charles could stroke his handsome head, then he raised it again, hesitating for a moment before accepting the treat in Julian’s outstretched hand.
‘He’s a fine animal, madam wife,’ he announced after running his hands along the gleaming flanks. ‘But not what I’d call a lady’s mount,’ he added, voicing his concern.
‘Oh, we understand each other well enough,’ she responded, and Julian shook his head as the horse once again whinnied softly as he nuzzled her cheek.
‘I’ve witnessed it many a time in dogs, but never in horses, at least not to this extent.’ He shook his head, still amazed at the display of affection. ‘You reared him from a foal, I understand. Which, of course, might account for it.’
‘Are you going to ride him today, Mama?’
‘No, Charles. He’s had a long journey. Maybe I’ll consider it in a day or two.’
‘And then will you come out riding with Papa and me?’ he asked, before a gleam of excitement suddenly brightened his eyes. ‘I know! You and Papa could have a race.’
‘We’ll allow him to settle in first,’ Julian said, his lack of enthusiasm quite evident, and he received a slightly mocking glance.
‘Faint-hearted, Wroxam?’ Jennifer spared a moment to watch his favourite mount being led into the stables. ‘I’m certain that grey of yours would give a good account of himself.’
‘I’m certain he would too, madam wife,’ he agreed, desperately striving not to be provoked into foolish actions by the challenging gleam in a pair of lovely green eyes. ‘I shall consider the matter whilst I’m away in London during the next few days. In the meantime,’ he added, turning to his son, ‘we must change our attire. We cannot sit down to luncheon smelling of the stables.’
Jennifer watched them disappear into the mansion by way of the side door, wondering why the bubble of happiness at being reunited with Oriel had suddenly burst. It oughtn’t to matter a whit to her whether Wroxam wished to journey to the ca
pital, more than likely to visit his mistress. No, it oughtn’t to matter at all…but it did.
Chapter Nine
It was a pleasant late June evening, not too hot now that the oppressive heat of the day had been tempered by a refreshing south-westerly breeze. London at this time of year had been suffocating, and Julian had been heartily glad to leave the capital, with all its noise and stale atmosphere, behind him. Had it not been for the fact that he had deemed it necessary to make urgent and drastic changes to his will, and to visit his lawyers in person in order to assure them that Charles Julian Stapleford was undoubtedly his son and legal heir, and to ensure that his wife was financially secure for the rest of her life, nothing would have induced him to leave Wroxam Park at such a time.
Although his trip to the capital had been made for purely business reasons, it hadn’t lacked its lighter moments. Naturally rumours of a child now living at Wroxam Park had begun to spread, and surprisingly enough he had been more amused than annoyed by the number of times the subject of raising children had been introduced into conversations. One person, however, hadn’t attempted to touch upon the current domestic situation presiding at Wroxam Park.
He smiled faintly, as he drew his attention away from his idle contemplation of the familiar landscape, and fixed his gaze on his sole travelling companion who, he had noticed, had become increasingly quiet during the journey.
‘You appear to be in a world of your own, my dear Theo. I might even go so far as to suggest faintly bored.’ He paused to remove a speck off the sleeve of his jacket. ‘If you were experiencing reservations about accompanying me back to the ancestral pile, you shouldn’t have accepted my invitation. I wouldn’t have been the least offended. You above anyone should know I’m remarkably hard to wound.’
Mr Dent held that faintly sardonic gaze without so much as a blink. ‘At one time I might have wholeheartedly agreed. You were always a cold fish, Julian, but now…’ He noted the quizzical arch of one dark brow, and smiled. ‘Well, perhaps you haven’t changed completely. And I certainly haven’t been bored,’ he assured him. ‘I was merely thinking what a lovely part of the country this is, and how much of a relief it is to be away from stuffy old London.’
His lordship contemplated his friend in silence for a moment. ‘I fail to understand, Theo, why you continue to live in the capital all year round. By your own admission you much prefer peace and quiet. And it isn’t as if you cannot afford a country residence.’
‘True enough,’ he readily agreed. ‘And I’ve certainly considered doing just that on more than one occasion. The trouble is though, Julian, I’d find little pleasure in living in the country entirely on my own. It’s different in town, of course. There’s always so much going on, even when the Season is over. People are always paying visits. If I were married, I wouldn’t need to think twice about the matter.’
‘Yes. Yes, I can understand that,’ Julian responded, after giving the matter a moment’s consideration. ‘One can be surrounded by servants, can receive numerous visits from neighbours, and yet it isn’t quite the same as sharing your home with another human being. Your life, even your outlook, begins to alter.’
Yours most certainly has, Theodore mused, smiling to himself.
Yes, there had been some notable changes in the Marquis, he reflected, staring through the window at countryside which never failed to gladden his heart. His good friend had appeared remarkably more tolerant during his recent stay in town; more inclined to be amused by the absurdities of his fellow man than irritated by their folly. He seemed—yes—almost more human. Was this the result of discovering himself a father? Or was it, perhaps, due entirely to the fact that Wroxam Park had at last seen the return of its mistress?
‘I’m very much looking forward to making your son’s acquaintance, Julian,’ he remarked, when his lordship remained silently staring out of the opposite window, that same soft smile returning to soften the hard contours of his face.
‘He’s an impertinent imp, Theo, who has rather winning ways, so do not allow him to tease you.’
This less-than-flattering assessment of the young heir’s character was uttered with such indulgence that Mr Dent frankly laughed. Yes, he mused, the Marquis of Wroxam, against all the odds, had adapted to fatherhood like the proverbial duck to water, and the deep affection in which he held his only child was patently obvious. But did this depth of feeling encompass the boy’s mother?
‘And Jenny…? Is she happy to be back at Wroxam Park?’
The instant he had voiced the question passing through his mind, he regretted his inquisitiveness, for his lordship’s smile faded and an expression which seemed to betray both annoyance and concern flickered over the aristocratic features.
‘It would be more accurate to say that she is daily becoming more resigned to living at the Park,’ he admitted, his voice revealing clearly a faint hint of regret which Theodore did not quite understand.
Was it simply that Jenny was having a little difficulty in adjusting to married life once again? Or was the truth of the matter merely that she had been allowed to return to Wroxam Park because she was the mother of Julian’s son, and for no other reason? For her sake, he sincerely hoped that the latter possibility was totally inaccurate. If not, then her future was uncertain to say the least.
‘Here at last!’ Julian announced, clearly betraying his delight at arriving back at the ancestral pile, as the carriage turned into the impressive eastern gateway. ‘I sincerely trust you didn’t find the journey too tedious, my dear Theo, and are not wishful to retire early tonight.’
Assuring his lordship that he had no such intentions, Theodore followed into the house which, apart from the butler who had admitted them, seemed unusually quiet and deserted.
‘Welcome home, my lord,’ was the butler’s polite greeting, though whether the sentiment was entirely genuine was debatable, for there was certainly a slight restraint in his manner and a faint look of unease.
As Julian divested himself of hat and cane, he enquired about his son’s whereabouts, and was not unduly surprised to discover that, at this hour, he had already retired for the night. ‘And her ladyship…? I trust she has not already sought her bed?’
‘Er—no, my lord. Will you be requiring refreshments, sir?’
‘Only the liquid variety, Slocombe. We dined on the road.’
The butler appeared faintly relieved to learn this, a fact that didn’t escape his lordship’s notice, though he chose not to remark upon it, and merely enquired his wife’s whereabouts.
‘I believe that her ladyship is still to be found in the—er—barn.’
Julian was halfway across the hall, heading in the direction of his library, before his butler’s disclosure struck him as rather odd. ‘Now what the deuce can have taken her out there at this hour, I wonder?’ he muttered to himself, checking as he reached for the door-handle. ‘Theo, I’m certain Jenny will be delighted to see you. You’ve always been a firm favourite of hers. Let us go and seek her out before we become too comfortable.’
The instant he entered the stable-yard, his lordship detected the strains of music, a spry tune which he immediately associated with lively country dancing. Voices raised in cheerful discourse and sounds of general merriment were plainly to be heard too, so he was not unduly surprised, as he rounded the corner of the yard, to discover several of his household servants, together with a number of estate workers, sitting on bales of straw, happily supping ale which had undoubtedly come from his own cellars.
One eagle-eyed merrymaker, at least, noticed their approach. ‘Holy Mary, Mother of God! ’Tis himself returned!’ Mary’s voice carried, and Julian couldn’t forbear a smile at the reaction his unexpected appearance always seemed to have on the outspoken but touchingly loyal servant.
The exclamation of dismay was heard by most of the other revellers too, and by the time his lordship had reached the large barn’s open doorway, the volume of noise had lessened noticeably, and several sheepish glances
were being cast in his direction. Only those dancing continued to remain oblivious to his presence, and he was able to observe his wife, looking happier than he had ever seen her appear before, tripping lightly over the dirt floor, partnered by that impudent, handsome groom of whom she was so obviously fond.
Only when the music began to fade did Jennifer become aware of the change in atmosphere, and turned immediately in the direction of her guests’ faintly wary glances.
‘Good heavens! I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.’
Certainly not appearing noticeably disturbed, she came smilingly forward. Julian, however, was not so foolish as to try to suppose that his return was what had prompted the expression of delighted surprise.
‘And Theo!’ Jennifer held out her hands which were swiftly captured in those two massive ones. ‘Julian never mentioned that you would be returning with him. But then, as you are probably aware yourself, he has never been one to disclose his intentions.’
The slight narrowing of grey eyes, which had appeared somewhat softer of late, confirmed Theodore’s worse fears: all was not as it should be between husband and wife.
‘Truth to tell, it was a spur-of-the-moment decision on my part,’ he admitted. ‘Wroxam invited me to return with him, and I simply couldn’t deny myself the pleasure of seeing you again. You look positively radiant, m’dear.’
The smile of welcome, still hovering about her mouth, turned fractionally crooked. ‘I’ve long considered you the supreme master of gallantry, my dear Theo, but on this occasion I cannot accept such a pretty compliment. For the past hour I have been instructing my very good friend on how to perform Irish country dances, and know I must look a positive fright. Which reminds me…’
