by Janet Woods
Adele was of the mind that it would have been a bigger tragedy had the girl’s father lived, but she mustn’t dwell on the manner of his death. ‘Sarah is like a sister to me, but I must warn you: when she has something to say she usually speaks her mind.’
‘Goodness … did you hear that, Patience? We shall have to behave ourselves.’
‘Better still, we must teach her to misbehave. It’s much more fun.’ Prudence patted Sarah’s cheek. ‘We like women who can voice their opinion, especially when men talk such nonsense. You mustn’t believe a word they say, my dear. Snakes … hah! I’ll give the earl a good old English adder as a cushion to sit on. He can sing to that.’
The gravity in Sarah’s expression was replaced by a shy smile, and then she laughed.
‘That’s better,’ Patience said. ‘Woe is a young lady who has nothing to smile and be happy about. What say you, Sergeant?’
‘That you and your sister can only set her a good example.’
‘What a sweet, polite man you are. I do like a man who has provided service to his country, they are so robust, obliging and invigorating. Now I must go and make us some refreshment.’
Sarah said. ‘May I help you, Miss Prudence? I can carry the tray through perhaps.’
It was an offer that brought a smile winging between the sisters.
The luggage was deposited upstairs and Hal stayed for some refreshment, allowing the aunts to fuss over him with good grace and seemingly a good-natured enjoyment.
Afterwards Adele walked with him to the carriage. It had attracted a sprinkling of curious villagers, most likely hoping to catch a glimpse of the earl, though she caught their glances on her several times and they were quickly withdrawn if she engaged their eyes.
Hal stood tall and straight, the red scarf a flamboyant loop around his neck. Before boarding the carriage he gazed down at her. ‘Take care of yourself, Mrs Pelham.’
‘I’ll try, Hal, though I’m eager to get started on the garden.’
‘Don’t tax your strength. I’ll come and dig the kitchen garden over for you tomorrow. I’ll also trim the grass surrounding the house and clean the windows. You’d better make me a list of tasks that need doing.’
‘The earl might not like it.’
He grinned at that. ‘Last time I looked his lordship didn’t like a whole lot of things, but he’s managing to swallow them without choking.’
Within the month Patience and Prudence ran out of gossip and the four women were settled into a routine of living together and sharing the tasks that needed to be done.
The kitchen garden was flourishing, the vegetables poked through the dark crumble of earth and promised a good supply for the house. Daffodils grew everywhere and the rose bushes pushed out buds on their neatly pruned branches as March changed into April. There was a rush of bluebells and the earth was soaked with showers.
Adele liked nothing better than working in the garden. Dressed in her oldest clothes and with a straw hat protecting her face from the sun she relaxed as she settled back into her environment.
The interior of the cottage itself hadn’t changed. The tapestries on the wall and chairs had been embroidered by Adele’s grandmother, though they were now faded. The rooms seemed smaller than she remembered, probably because of her recent stay at Madigan House where the ceilings were lofty and you could set up home in the fireplace if you had a mind to.
But something was missing from her life, a certain tension. Here, she didn’t hold her breath to listen for Ryder’s footsteps. She didn’t rush to the window to catch a glimpse of him if she heard his horse whinny, and she didn’t sniff the air for the elusive scent of the lime soap his valet made to shave him with.
She and Sarah had rooms at the front of the house. The beds had wooden frames and a head canopy of faded blue damask to keep the winter draughts at bay. The floors were decorated with bright hand-woven rugs that her grandfather had brought home from his travels in Persia. Though a little faded and worn now, they still muted the noise of shoes pattering on the floorboards.
Sarah said, ‘I like it here. I feel at home. The cats are female.’ She lowered her voice a little. ‘Gypsy is a male, like the statue with the fig leaf near the door to Madigan House. Do you think the earl and Hal Stover resemble that when they are without clothing?’
Adele gasped, and her threatened blush subsided in the face of Sarah’s giggle. She joined in, aware that Sarah was old enough to know of the differences between men and women. She’d learn even more in the country, especially now it was spring. The girl was old enough to marry, as Adele had been at that age … though her own marriage to Ryder had never taken place since Edgar Pelham had intervened to prevent it.
Sarah said, ‘The cats are watching Gypsy, waiting for the right time to put him in his place. It sounds strange, but houses talk, even though they are the keeper of secrets.’
Duck Pond Cottage certainly talked. The old oak beams endured and the stairs had a familiar creak to them. Doors opened and shut in the draughts, but quietly on the turn of a sigh as if someone invisible had drifted through the panels and closed it behind them.
A pair of territorial tabby cats guarded the dwelling. After much cocky aggravation from Gypsy, they launched a two-pronged attack on the dog that saw him bloodied and yelping and hiding under the bed. It seemed the pecking order had been established to the cats’ satisfaction.
‘Perhaps that will teach you not to be so bumptious,’ Adele said, bathing Gypsy’s wounds and spreading salve on them. The dog kept a wary eye on his adversaries from then on. It was an uneasy peace for a while, and then they seemed to accept each other, apart from an occasional swipe of a paw or a passing growl.
Nobody visited unless it was a carter with the milk, or the occasional tradesman. It seemed odd that her aunts had few friends when they’d been such social creatures before she’d left the district.
When Adele queried it, Prudence said, ‘It’s because of Mr Ashburn. He bought your father’s estate from his heir, and he regards this house and the land it stands on as part of it. We’ve told him it belonged to your grandmother, who left it to you. Everybody knows that. He maintains that it automatically became your father’s property when he married your mother.’
Patience cut in. ‘The businessmen amongst them don’t care about anything that doesn’t affect them. As for the others, they’re frightened they will lose their tenancies if they take our side in the dispute. But let’s not stir up a hornets’ nest. The last time I spoke to Mr Tessler he told me he has it all in hand.’
Prudence scoffed. ‘You’re not called Patience for nothing. That was about six months ago. Now the earl is home things will get done, you mark my words.’
Adele hoped so. She didn’t want to go running to Ryder every time she needed a problem solved. ‘Mr Tessler has not communicated with me over this. I can clear it up quite easily since I have both the deeds and my grandmother’s will. Mother gave them to me and told me they were my claim to the property. She said the cottage was not part of my father’s estate and she had no intention of letting it go out of her family.’
‘Oh, my dear, how wonderful of your mother to leave the documents in safe hands, and she didn’t say a word. We told your father’s heir that Duck Pond Cottage and the adjoining meadow didn’t belong to the Lawrence estate, but he didn’t listen. He was so eager to get rid of it he accepted the first offer, which was far less than its worth. We think he had debts to settle. He wouldn’t listen to reason and neither would Mr Ashburn, who bought the land, and thus assumed control over your father’s estate.’
‘I expect the earl would have bought it, had he known.’
Prudence took over the conversation. ‘Not that we blame Mr Ashburn for that, since he’s a young man making his way in life and will snatch an opportunity when it’s offered. All the same, the matter was dealt privately and very hurriedly, for nobody, including us, knew of the sale until it was signed, sealed and delivered.’
‘
And beside that … we cannot see how Mr Tessler can act for both parties and still remain impartial.’
Her aunts were getting agitated and Adele changed the subject. ‘I’m going to see Mr Tessler because I need to make enquiries about my estate. How do you usually get into Poole … walk?’
‘We tie a piece of rope to the gate if we need a ride. Usually Mr Ashburn or the reverend takes us. Sometimes they can’t spend the time. Otherwise we walk to Blandford. As you know, it’s a bit of a traipse, but is closer.’
‘What happened to the donkey cart?’
‘It’s in the stable. The wheel collapsed when we hit a tree root, and we were tipped out. Then the donkey disappeared one night. We must have left the stable door open and she wandered off. It wasn’t the first time, but usually she came back. I think gypsies took her the last time.’
‘I see.’
Adele wondered if she could afford to buy another donkey and cart. She wouldn’t know that until she’d seen Mr Tessler. She hoped the Reverend Bryson would pick her up, not because she liked him, but because it was her first outing alone since her illness and she wasn’t confident that her strength would hold up.
She hung the rope on the gate then went back inside, wasting several futile minutes looking for her hessian bag, which, amongst other treasures, she thought contained the deeds to the cottage and her grandmother’s will. The packages had been sealed with wax containing the Lawrence signature, but her mother had informed her of the contents, which stated that the ownership of the cottage stayed in the female line. Had she married Ryder it would have been passed to their daughter, if they had one.
There came the sound of a vehicle drawing up outside the cottage.
‘I’ll search for it while you’re gone, it can’t be far away,’ Patience said.
Adele rushed downstairs, pulled a blue shawl around her shoulders and fussed with her bonnet in the hall mirror. She was wearing a cream gown she’d left behind in the wardrobe with her other clothes. It had not gone out of fashion. ‘I wanted to get that matter settled with Mr Tessler and now I’ll have to wait until we’ve found the documentation,’ she said to Sarah.
When she stepped outside it was to find the Madigan estate carriage with its coat of arms waiting for her. It was highly polished. The dark bay carriage horses were glossy and their tails tied high. The door swung open, the step unfolded and Ryder alighted. Dressed all in black, he had a touch of the sinister about him.
Adele was rooted to the spot as she remembered the last time they’d met, and his parting kiss. His lack of beard still took her by surprise, though she had seen him clean-shaven before. He had an ironic twist to his mouth, and Lord, but he was handsome, especially with the maturity of several years’ absence etched into his face.
She was too old to blush yet she did when she remembered in minute detail how close they had been on one occasion. ‘Ryder … my lord. I didn’t expect you.’
‘Is that exasperation I hear in your voice?’
‘I imagine you’ll hear what you want to hear.’
‘Touché, my dear. I’m at your service, so where are you going this fair morning?’
‘To see Mr Tessler and find out where I stand in regards to funds, but I cannot find the deeds to the cottage and my grandmother’s will.’
‘When did you last have them?’
‘I can’t remember. I assumed they were in one of the hessian bags. Sarah said I wouldn’t have put anything in the trunks that we didn’t want anyone else to see. She’s going to help the aunts look for them while I’m out.’
‘Perhaps they were left behind at Madigan House. I’ll ask the staff to search for them.’ He slid his hand under her elbow. ‘Don’t just stand there, Mrs Pelham. Get in … get in.’
Patience came running out waving a piece of paper. ‘You forgot the shopping list.’ She bobbed a curtsey when she saw Ryder. ‘My lord, how are you this fine day?’
‘In splendid form.’ Ryder took the paper from her and tucked it in his waistcoat pocket.
When Adele seated herself he took the seat opposite and tapped his cane on the roof for the driver to set the carriage in motion. She dredged up some courage. ‘Ryder … my lord … I need to ask you something.’
‘If it’s what I think it is, the answer is no … I haven’t forgiven you, and I doubt if I ever will. But we’re older and wiser now and we’re bound to run into each other. The best we can do is to pretend to be civilized.’
‘Do you hate me so much that you can forget the friends that we once were?’
A smile twisted his lips. ‘Hate? That emotion was replaced with indifference years ago, my dear.’ He gazed out of the window. ‘If I’d realized it was you I found on the heath perhaps I would have left you there.’
It was a cruel thrust and a solitary tear ran down her cheek. It sounded more like the need to hurt than indifference, but he certainly knew how to go about it.
He leaned forward then reached out to scoop the tear from her cheek with his fingertip. ‘Don’t cry, my Del, I would have gone back for you. One thing hasn’t changed.’
‘What is it?’
His eyes engaged hers and a shiver ran down her spine when he said softly, ‘I still want you.’
Five
Adele folded her hands in her lap and gazed down at them. It was a while before they spoke again, and Ryder who broke the silence.
‘Are you comfortable with your back to the horses?’
Her response was a taciturn nod. She made no effort to engage in conversation, polite or otherwise.
‘Good.’
The exchange was followed by another awkward silence, in which Ryder examined the woman he’d once loved. Due to his care, for he’d ordered dishes for her that were nourishing as well as pleasing to the palate, the pinched, worried face she’d presented to the world on her arrival had filled out a little. Her hair glowed like horse chestnuts in September and her eyes were a greenish grey like moss growing on a stone. He tried not to smile. In the past Adele would have taken him to task for describing them thus.
She still needed to gain some weight, for her gown hung a little loosely.
He’d meant it when he’d said he still wanted her. She was a thorn in his side … an insatiable itch. He wanted to lose himself in her – punish her. He could have kicked himself for thinking that way when he’d prefer to take her in a loving exchange. There was still something vulnerable and innocent about her, and he craved what he’d been promised as a young man and was then denied.
She looked younger now than the half-dead creature he’d plucked from the snow on the heath. No wonder he hadn’t recognized her then. He’d worked to keep her awake – to support the dead weight of her body at the same time as managing the horse, while he got them to his home, and to safety.
The carriage hit a deep rut and lurched to one side. Giving a yelp of surprise Adele was pitched from the seat and ended up half on his lap. The feather on her hat tickled his nose, making him want to sneeze. He moved his head to one side, automatically circling her waist with his arm to support her.
Ryder found himself looking into panic-filled eyes. She cringed and struggled to escape, whimpering, ‘Let me go … please don’t hurt me.’
‘Sorry, my lord,’ the coachman called from above. ‘The rut was filled with mud and I didn’t see it.’
‘Take it easy from now on, Bates, the lady was unseated.’
‘That I will, my lord. Sorry, Mrs Pelham.’
Ryder lowered her back into her seat and took her hands in his. ‘You’re trembling. Why were you afraid I’d hurt you?’
She jerked her hands away. ‘I wasn’t … I was unprepared for the jolt and you misunderstood.’
Her voice contained a tide of tears being held back and he softened the moment with some humour. ‘If you don’t want to end up on my lap again you’d better hold on to the strap, Del, the road is rougher than I thought along this stretch. I’ll make arrangements to get it repaired while we’re in tow
n.’
‘I’m sorry, Ryder … my lord … I wasn’t referring to you.’
‘As a matter of interest, to whom were you referring then?’
‘Nobody … it meant nothing. It was simply a reaction.’
Somebody had ill-treated her and it wasn’t hard to guess who; the lout she’d run off with.
Ryder recalled that Edgar Pelham had been handsome in a foppish kind of way. He’d certainly found his manners to be an affectation for the most part. There had also been something spiteful about him. There had been no love lost between them. Ryder had taken him to task over some shoddy work and his insolent reply had grated. Ryder had dismissed him.
He’d then gone whining to the reverend, Oliver Bryson, who had recommended Edgar Pelham in the first place. Ryder had reinstated him but had cause to admonish the man again. When he’d left the district Adele had gone with him.
Oliver Bryson had been overbearing, but then, it was part of his nature. Ryder had grown up with it. But absence had given him a clearer view and he’d changed. He would no longer allow the man to dominate him.
As for Adele … Ryder’s initial flash of anger disappeared into a burst of moral indignation. It served her right for leaving him at the altar, and served himself right for taking Adele’s adoration for granted. The humiliation of that moment burned through him again. He leaned back in his seat gazing steadily at her, wishing she would disappear in a puff of smoke so he could forget her.
He gave a little hiss of derision. Forget her! No matter how hard he’d tried, he hadn’t passed one day without thinking of her over the past few years. He’d often wondered where she was, and whether she was happy, and now he was ashamed that he’d allowed anger to guide his thoughts on this occasion.
She’d been gazing through the mud-streaked window, her hand firmly curled around the strap now. Her cream gown was one he remembered from the past. A blue shawl hugged her shoulders for warmth and matched the ribbons on her bonnet.
