by Mary Nichols
‘One day I shall go there,’ he said. ‘It seems wrong to benefit from trade with a country one has never visited.’ It was as if she had been sent to open his eyes, to make him see more clearly. He wanted to reach out and take her hand, to tell her to take heart; that he would protect her, even that he would take her back to India. Nothing seemed impossible at that moment, as the coach trundled on its way through the cool green countryside of England.
‘If Sophie agrees,’ Lucy put in, and broke the spell. ‘I collect she hates all things Indian.’ Then she added with a grin of mischief, ‘Except diamonds and rubies and silks and muslins, of course.’
Realising that he had been leaning towards Emma, as if hanging on every word, he sat back in his seat, smiling and trying to come back from the dream-like state in which he had been indulging. ‘No, Lucy, that is unfair. It is simply that she does not understand.’
‘Talking of trade,’ Emma said, in an effort to prevent an argument. ‘When do you expect the Silken Maid to dock? I had thought it was expected two or three weeks ago.’
‘It is a little overdue, but it is too early to be concerned,’ he said. ‘It is a long voyage and it may have met rough weather. I am sorry that Captain O’Connor’s voyage has been delayed. You must be feeling very impatient.’
Emma risked a quick look at Lucy, but before she could reply, Mrs Standon woke up with a start and straightened her bonnet which had fallen over her eyes. ‘Where are we?’ she demanded, looking out of the window.
‘Just coming into Bishop’s Stortford, Aunt,’ Dominic said. ‘We will stop here for refreshment.’
‘Thank goodness for that. It is hours since breakfast and I am as hungry as a hunter.’
The coach drew up in the yard of an inn and, while the horses were changed again, they went inside for a meal, after which they resumed their journey. This time Aunt Agatha remained awake and kept up a constant flow of chatter. The earlier intimacy disappeared and Emma spoke no more of India or her father.
Had she been able to convey a true picture of her papa, his goodness and compassion, his strict code of honour which would never allow him to betray anyone, not least his own brother? When the truth came out, would Dominic, Marquis of Cavenham, be inclined now to believe it? And if he did not, did she care?
Oh, she cared, she cared so much it hurt.
They reached Cavenham House, which was situated between Bury St Edmunds and Newmarket, just as dusk was falling. It was approached through an avenue of elms, whose canopy made the road very dark. Emma sat forward, looking out of the window as the carriage emerged from the trees and bowled along a gravelled driveway.
With the sun low on the horizon throwing long shadows, Emma saw a large mansion set in lightly wooded parkland. Its façade of ivy-clad grey stone, three storeys high, was pricked by rows of long windows, reflecting the light of the setting sun. In the centre a deep portico shaded the front door and at each end was a round tower. She let out a little gasp of delighted surprise.
‘It is magnificent.’
Dominic smiled, unaccountably pleased by her reaction. ‘The front is relatively new. It was built by my grandfather. The rest of the house is older, some of it very old indeed. I will take you on a tour of it tomorrow, if you like.’
‘I should like it very much,’ she said.
It was as if they had decided, almost as if it had been mutually agreed, to set aside the feelings they had for each other, to pretend they did not exist, and put their relationship on a safer footing. Respect and affection must replace the intense passion which had engulfed them if they were to live under the same roof.
Until he was convinced Fergus O’Connor was the right husband for her and she was safely married, he was determined that they would. If he could not have her for himself, which he patently could not, he would appoint himself her guardian.
The next morning Mrs Standon elected to stay in bed to recover from the journey. As soon as breakfast was over, Lucy dashed off to the stables to make sure her mare had come to no harm on the journey from London, so Emma, in a cerise cambric round gown, found herself touring the house with only Dominic for company. He was dressed for the country in nankeen coat and supple leather breeches tucked into long, tan riding boots.
In spite of its outward grandeur, it soon became apparent to Emma that the whole place was in want of a coat of paint, new carpets and curtains. The rooms which were in daily use were warm, inviting and comfortably furnished, but elsewhere, the cold was striking, even though it was the height of summer, and the furniture so sparse it was almost nonexistent. Here and there, in more distant parts of the building which were never used, there were damp patches on some of the walls and green mould on the carpets.
‘Grandpapa was a gambler,’ Dominic said, putting a hand beneath her elbow to steady her where some of the floorboards were loose. ‘He lost a great deal of money and everything went downhill. Papa was never able to recoup. He did his best with economies but they were never enough and when Mama died, he lost heart and gave up. I inherited a crumbling pile and land that had been so long neglected, it was infertile.’
‘But Lucy told me you were coming about.’ He had not removed his hand and she was acutely aware of it. His touch set her pulses racing and made her sound breathless.
‘Yes I am, thanks to profitable trading, but so much has to be put back into buying more cargoes, it is a slow process. My priority was to put some heart into the land, so the house had to wait, but now I think I can make a start.’
It would be a mammoth task, Emma realised, but the old house was so well-proportioned, with large, high rooms and a magnificent carved staircase which went up from an imposing entrance hall and curved round to a long gallery, that it would be a joyful one. She envied Sophie for being able to share the enterprise with Dominic. But then she envied Sophie for a great many other things too. It was becoming more and more difficult to keep the little green god at bay.
Dominic moved away from her to allow her to precede him through a door which, to her surprise, brought them back to the front hall. ‘Well, what do you think?’
‘I think it is lovely. More than that, it has an atmosphere…’
He laughed. ‘Ghosts?’
‘No, I didn’t mean that, but if there are ghosts, they must be benign. I can sense a certain sadness, but there is great happiness too. I think this is a happy house. Does that sound foolish?’
‘No,’ he said softly. ‘I have always felt it. No matter how pinched in the pocket we are, or how many economies we have to make, I am determined to keep this house.’
‘Thank you for showing it to me.’
‘There is more, of course, outbuildings, stables, land, farms, but I will let Lucy show you those. I am sure she is impatient to take you out riding.’
She chuckled suddenly. ‘Must I ride side saddle?’
‘No, here you may do as you please. I want you to feel at home.’
‘Thank you, my lord.’
‘Dominic,’ he corrected her.
‘Cousin Dominic,’ she said, laughing. ‘I don’t know what it is, perhaps it is the ambience of the house, but I do feel at home and privileged to be here.’
He bowed before her smiling. ‘Now, alas, I must go and see my steward.’
‘And I should like to write to my brother to tell him I am here. He is not so very far away, so perhaps, I shall be able to visit him…with your permission, of course.’
‘You have only to ask and I will arrange transport for you. Or you could ride, though it is seven miles…’
‘I should like to ride. Thank you, my…Cousin Dominic.’
‘No need to write then. We will ride over this afternoon. I want to see Bertie about a horse. I will have Brutus saddled for you at two o’clock. Is that convenient?’
‘Quite convenient, thank you. I will be ready.’
‘I will see you then, Cousin Emma.’ He sketched a bow and then bounded off down the front steps in search of his steward, feelin
g unaccountably pleased with life, which he put down to being back in his beloved Cavenham.
Chapter Eight
Emma had expected Lucy to accompany them on their ride to Cosgrove Manor and was disappointed when they gathered for nuncheon at noon to be told that Lucy had been riding most of the morning and had exhausted her mare. She did not think Dominic would consider escorting her without a third person being present.
‘I planned to walk to the village to pay a visit to Mrs Payne this afternoon,’ Lucy explained to Emma. ‘She was our nurse and our father’s before that. She is very old now and living in retirement. I always go and see her when I come back from being away. She likes to hear all the news. I had thought you might accompany me.’
Emma hesitated only a second before saying, ‘Yes, of course. We can go to Cosgrove Manor another day.’
‘I’m afraid I do have to see Bertie today and I am sure you cannot wait to see your brother again,’ Dominic put in, glad that his aunt had remained in her room, because he was uncomfortably aware she would not approve of the arrangement he was about to propose. ‘We will go anyway. You can have a comfortable cose while I talk to Bertie.’ He had no particular business with his friend, but the opportunity for a long ride in Emma’s company was something he did not intend to forgo.
Thus it was that Emma, riding astride on Brutus, and Dominic on Cavenham Prince set out that afternoon for Newmarket, walking their horses along the leafy lanes between green hedgerows. The sun shone, the birds sang and so did Emma’s heart. To be riding beside the man she loved on such a day was sheer ecstasy. She smiled to herself as she rode, her capable ungloved hands easy on the reins.
That he was pledged to someone else she intended to try and forget for these few precious hours. Tomorrow, Sophie could have him back, to make happy or unhappy, but today, he was hers. There was no need for words, words only tripped them up, made them say things they did not mean; words were the stuff of lies and she had had enough of those.
‘You are looking pleased with life,’ he said, seeing the smile. It wasn’t just the smile he noticed. She was dressed in a dark green riding habit which, though far from new, was well made and emphasised her slim waist. The tall hat, with its sweeping feathers, framed a face that was perfectly proportioned. The straight nose was complemented by a firm little chin and both were softened by the peach bloom of her cheeks, no longer tanned, and the wisps of auburn hair which lay on her forehead beneath the hat’s brim.
‘Yes, I am. It is such a perfect day and riding has always been my greatest pleasure. Teddy and I used to ride a great deal.’
‘Tell me about it.’
She smiled, her memory conjuring up the happy days before her father’s death. ‘We would go out on the plains around Calcutta, almost as soon as it was light enough to see, and ride for hours. Sometimes we wouldn’t come across another living soul; sometimes only a bullock cart or two or an elephant with its mahout—that’s its keeper—and some Indian dignitary, or even a princess, riding in the howdah on its back. Occasionally we met an army patrol coming back to the cantonment or a group of hunters bringing home their trophies: boar, tahr, which is a kind of mountain goat, hog deer, leopards, tigers.’
‘Did you hunt yourself?’
‘No, I never cared for it. Papa killed a tiger once, but that was because it was a man-eater and had been terrorising some villages on the outskirts of the jungle. It was a magnificent beast, but I was sad it had to die. Papa had it made into a rug. I still have it.’
Not one word, he noticed, about Miss Mountforest, about her life as maid and companion. He was tempted to ask about it, to enquire how she managed to have so much time free of her duties, but decided it would spoil the day for them both.
‘I really must go there some day. Not for the hunting, but simply to see the countryside and the way the people live.’
‘You would find it very interesting and enlightening, I think,’ she said. ‘There is unbelievable wealth as well as great poverty, not only in the towns, but in the interior, which has hardly been explored. There are maharajahs and nizams who live in the most magnificent palaces, rich as Croesus. The maharanees and princesses have so much gold and jewellery they are weighed down by it and yet, just beyond the palace gates, in the bazaars and little villages, the people have nothing.’
‘Do they not resent that, these poor people? I imagine they often rise up against their rulers.’
‘Hardly ever, because they believe their place in the scheme of things is preordained and nothing can be done about it in their present existence. If they lead good and virtuous lives, they will rise to a higher level in the next life.’
‘So a maid could never become a princess, or a stable boy a prince?’
She laughed. ‘It is not so very different from society here, is it? The strict hierarchy of the nobility is maintained; isn’t that what convention and etiquette and come-outs and primogeniture are all about? To preserve the lineage and the wealth of the great families.’
‘You do not approve?’
‘I did not say that. I was merely making an observation, but I cannot commend a system that gives everything to the eldest son and leaves nothing for his brothers and sisters, who might, in any case, be more deserving.’
‘The eldest son, the heir, is duty-bound to look after his siblings, Emma. Lucy will never want for anything while I have a shilling of my own. As soon as I inherited, I made sure she had a portion no one could touch and as good a dowry as I could manage.’
‘Oh, my lord—Dominic—I was not talking of you. Oh, how thoughtless of me! I know you are the most generous of men. Look how you have taken me into your home and I have given nothing in return but trouble.’
She was so obviously distressed, he reined in and turned towards her, reaching out and laying his hand on her arm. ‘I am not offended, Emma, and you are no trouble to me at all. In fact, I should miss you very much if you were not here.’
She pulled up and faced him, her lovely eyes registering surprise. ‘Oh, Dominic…’
He should not have said that but he could not retract it. He would miss her if she left; he had become accustomed to her presence, to her quiet dignity, her sharp wit, her humour, her sense of justice, even the exasperating air of mystery which surrounded her. ‘We should all miss you,’ he said, removing his hand from her arm and returning it to the reins. ‘Who would keep Lucy in order, if you were not here?’
She pulled herself together to speak lightly. ‘It is not so very long ago I was accused of leading her astray,’ she said, with a slow smile which enchanted him. ‘Lucy is not a silly schoolgirl, you know, she is a young lady with character and a very strong will, but she loves you and respects you. She knows what is right and proper without me telling her. She does not really need me. You are to be married and no doubt Lucy will marry before long. And I…’ she gulped quickly. ‘…I must move on.’
‘What about Captain O’Connor?’
She had forgotten all about the Captain and it showed in the startled glance she gave him. ‘What about him?’
‘I am afraid the Silken Maid is considerably overdue and until it returns I cannot fulfil my undertaking to give him an opportunity to advance himself. But perhaps three months is long enough for you to make up your mind about him.’ He paused, watching her closely and was rewarded with the sight of the colour flaring in her cheeks. ‘Or perhaps it was not you he had fixed his attention on, but Lucy.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’
‘I am not a fool, Emma. Besides, I spoke to the Captain before we left London and he made no bones about which young lady he was dangling after.’
‘Then it was very unfair of you to pretend…’
‘I pretend! That is the outside of enough, coming from you. You led me to believe it was you…’
‘No, I did not. You assumed what it pleased you to assume.’
He found himself laughing. ‘I know. I realised it as soon as I spoke to the Captain and went over in my h
ead everything you had said. You are very clever, you know.’
‘Am I?’
‘Yes, you always contrive to evade issues you do not wish to speak of and yet you are very open when it pleases you. One day, you will trip over your own feet, you know.’
‘Then I must watch my step, mustn’t I?’
‘I would rather you confided in me.’
‘What about?’ She managed to sound calm, but her hands were shaking. Some of her nerves must have been communicated to Brutus for he side-stepped restlessly. She turned her attention to settling him into walking forward again.
‘I don’t know,’ he said, coming up alongside her. ‘I wish I did. You are an enigma, a puzzle, and I am intrigued.’
‘You flatter me, my lord.’
‘Where will you go, if I was so foolish as to allow you to leave?’
‘I expect I shall set up home with my brother. We might even return to India.’ It was the first time such a notion had entered her head, but now it was there, she wondered if it might not be for the best. The farther away she was from the man she wanted but could not have, the better. In Calcutta, where she had never known him, she might learn to live at peace with herself. What would Teddy think of the idea?
‘Is there anyone out there, someone you are fond of, someone you might marry?’
She risked a glance at him and saw him looking at her so intently, she felt almost naked, her every thought and emotion laid bare. ‘No, there is no one.’
‘I thought perhaps it might be Miss Mountforest’s brother. You speak so highly of the father and yet the brother is never mentioned, almost as if you are afraid to say his name.’ He paused, waiting for her to comment, but she remained silent, concentrating on the back of her horse’s head. ‘Am I right?’
‘No, you are not, my lord, and I cannot think why you should have come to such a conclusion.’
‘It came to me when you were talking about primogeniture and brothers and sisters perhaps being more deserving than the eldest son. If it was not me you were talking of, then it must have been Viscount Mountforest and his brother.’ He turned down a bridleway which led onto the heath and she followed. ‘Knowing Major Mountforest as well as you did, you would naturally see his banishment from his point of view. You might think his son was being deprived of his birthright…’
