The Lords & Ladies Box Set

by Fenella J Miller

  *

  As the dining-room door closed behind her he pushed his chair back savagely. ‘Well, Rivenhall, when are your lawyers coming? The sooner we get this farce settled the better.’

  The popinjay flinched. ‘They will be here tomorrow. Do you have a legal person coming?’

  Richard stared at him with dislike. ‘No, of course not, why should I? It is not I who needs to prove anything, it is you. I have estate work to complete so I will bid you goodnight, Rivenhall.’

  Richard not waiting or wishing for a reply, strode off slamming the door with such force, that Foster, lurking outside, was forced to leap, in a manner not fitted to his dignity, to one side, to avoid being flattened against the wall.

  Amelia took breakfast in her room then as the weather was clement decided to take Sultan for a gallop. On her return to the stable she saw a post chaise trundling down the drive. The lawyers had arrived. The issues would be settled and by the end of the day there might be a different Lord Rivenhall in Richard’s place. Her stomach lurched unpleasantly and she blamed her breakfast.

  Not sure if she would be required in the library by the lawyers Amelia took special pains with her appearance. The high-waisted, leaf-green, spotted damask, she believed, emphasized her tall figure and set off her green eyes to perfection.

  Determined not to allow herself to become confined to her rooms she swept downstairs as coffee was being taken into Rivenhall and his lawyers. The small drawing-room was warm and welcoming. Amelia rang the bell and paced the carpet waiting for someone to answer her summons. Finally the butler appeared.

  ‘Foster, please ask Higgs to attend me.’ The housekeeper arrived, clean apron slightly crooked, minutes later. ‘Come in and take a seat. We have much to discuss.’ Amelia indicated the upright chair opposite her own. The woman subsided, her ample form in danger of overwhelming the chair. ‘Do you have the menus for today?’

  ‘Yes, Miss Amelia.’ She rummaged in her commodious pocket and withdrew the menu and handed it across. ‘As we have two extra guests I thought as you might wish for a formal dinner this evening, in the dining-room, so I have drawn up the menu to suit.’

  Amelia glanced down the long list of suggestions, her heart sinking. If all this was to be served she would have to sit through an hour or more of intolerable tension. ‘I think that it is too soon to be having anything as elaborate as this. We will dine, as usual, in the small dining-room. One remove only, and no dessert, cheese and fruit will be adequate.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Amelia, of course. Will the gentlemen be wanting luncheon?’

  ‘I have no idea. Foster must enquire. Please have a tray sent here, for me, at noon.’

  ‘Very well, miss. Will that be all?’ Amelia dismissed the housekeeper and collected the pile of correspondence, letters of condolence, which still needed answering, and carried them to a small table by the window.

  She longed to know what was transpiring but her decision to distance herself from the dispute

  meant she could not ask. She ate a solitary lunch and returned to her work. At four o’clock the door opened and Richard strolled in. Amelia glared at the unsightly blots of ink that appeared on her letter.

  He half smiled at her agitation. ‘Amelia, I have been looking for you. You are proving very elusive today.’

  She stared blankly at him. What was he talking about? She had been in here all day writing letters, not flitting about the countryside. ‘As you can see, Cousin Richard, I have been busy in here, with my duties.’

  Richard frowned. ‘Then I was misinformed and I apologize. That damned butler is taking too much upon himself. Leave that, Millie, and come and sit with me. I am sure you must be consumed with curiosity.’

  He was behaving as if no rift had appeared between them, no angry words been spoken. For a moment Amelia considered renewing the battle but her desire to know what had happened overcame her wish to prove a point.

  She left her correspondence and took the seat indicated. She wanted no animosity between them. Whatever he told her she wanted him to remain her friend. She smiled, all artifice gone. ‘I am so sorry, Richard, I have…’

  He stopped her. ‘Enough, my dear, it is forgotten. As I hope my churlish behaviour is too? I have a bad temper and I am sorry if I frightened you. I would never hurt you, or let anyone else do so, I hope you believe that.’

  Amelia did. She could not doubt him, his dark blue eyes shone with the sincerity of his words. ‘Of course I do, Richard. And in future I will endeavour not to provoke you.’ She paused and

  giggled. ‘But I cannot promise; sometimes I cannot help myself.’

  His roar of laughter echoed round the room and peace was restored between them. ‘The lawyers will not be staying here, I am glad to say. They have caused enough trouble already.’ Richard announced baldly.

  ‘What has been decided, Richard, tell me?’

  He smiled grimly. ‘What has been decided, my dear, is that although my documents are legal, they insist that the matter must be settled by my colonel, Lord Dewkesbury, coming here and confirming my identity.’ His disgust at this arrangement was evident.

  ‘Will that be soon?’

  ‘I am afraid not, it will be several weeks at least, he is still with Wellington in Belgium. The letter will be sent, then we must wait until Lord Dewkesbury is free to travel.’

  Amelia was worried. ‘What about the estate? Who will be in charge until the matter is resolved?’

  ‘The lawyers, and Rivenhall, have agreed that I should remain in charge. Unfortunately I can no longer transfer monies freely; all expenses must be ratified by the lawyers first.’ He leant forward, his expression earnest. ‘This means I will not be able to do as I promised; the trust fund for you cannot be finalized until my claim is proven. I am sorry, Amelia, I know how much this meant to you.’

  ‘I have no need of the money, Richard. As long as the estate can be looked after and the staff paid, that is all that matters.’ She laughed, remembering the decision made in the heat of her passion two days earlier. ‘Do you know I had decided to leave Rivenhall and seek employment as a governess or companion?’

  He stiffened and something she did not recognize flashed in his eyes. He grasped her hands in his. ‘You must never leave Rivenhall, Amelia, it is your home. If anyone leaves, it shall be I, or Rivenhall, never you. Is that clear?’

  Her hands felt warm and safe, hidden between his, and she was sorry when he released them and sat back. She found her voice. ‘Yes, Richard, that is clear. I have no wish to leave here; I love it and cannot imagine there is anywhere else as lovely in the whole of England.’

  There was a hesitant tap on the door and Richard immediately stood up. ‘Enter,’ he barked, not pleased his tête-à-tête had been interrupted. Their guest came in, resplendent in multi-colored silk waistcoat, green top coat and buff breeches. He looked ridiculous but inexpressibly smug. Why should he look so pleased with himself? She glanced at Richard’s impassive face but learnt nothing there. If he appeared indifferent to his presence then so should she.

  ‘I apologize, most humbly, for intruding, Cousin Amelia, but may I join you?’

  She was tempted to refuse. ‘Yes, of course, Mr. Rivenhall, come in. I was about to ring for refreshments, would you care to join us?’

  He smiled. ‘I would be delighted, thank you so much.’ He sat awkwardly on the high back chair his ridiculously high collar, making it difficult for him to turn his head. He brushed an imaginary speck of dust from his gleaming boots. ‘It is a lovely afternoon, is it not, Cousin Amelia, and the weather is set fair across the country, I hear.’

  Grinding her teeth, Amelia answered. ‘Is it, Mr. Rivenhall, how interesting.’

  The refreshments were brought and consumed but the atmosphere remained strained. She did her best to maintain a flow of innocuous small talk but at all times she was aware of Richard’s tension and knew that the smallest provocation would cause an explosion.

  The effort was making her tired. ‘If
you will excuse me? I have a slight headache, and will rest in my room until dinner.’

  They stood politely to allow her to escape. She was relieved when she heard Richard follow her from the room seconds later and head for the estate office. Belatedly she understood that he had remained in the same room only to chaperone her. Touched by his concern she ran lightly upstairs, glad she still had someone who cared for her welfare.

  So the pattern of her days unrolled, each day a little easier than the last, as she became reconciled to her loss. In the morning she rode out, often Richard accompanied her on Prince. His disastrous ride on Sultan was never mentioned, although given time Amelia believed the horse would accept him. Richard had a natural rapport with horses and she noticed Sultan had begun to prick his ears and look round eagerly at the sound of his voice.

  Rivenhall had tried to ingratiate himself, but failed miserably. She had taken to praying fervently every night for the appearance of Colonel, Lord Dewksbury, so that the tiresome young man could be sent packing. That it could be Richard who was sent packing was a notion she pushed firmly to the back of her mind. He was Lord Rivenhall, he had to be, because he had said so and he would not deceive her.

  She might have forgotten about Colonel Dewkesbury if the wretched Rivenhall had not constantly reminded her. Whenever Richard applied for funds to repair a cottage or purchase farm implements, he and his lawyers blocked the application. He insisted nothing but the minimum should be spent until the matter was settled.

  Rivenhall itself would have returned to meagre meals and chilly rooms if it would not have adversely affected the man’s own well-being. He was a person who liked his creature comforts, that he also liked to drink heavily and gamble became more apparent as the weeks passed.

  Amelia was forced to think the unthinkable. What if Richard was indeed the impostor? She carefully considered the evidence. Rivenhall was the image of all the ancestors depicted in the gallery. However Richard had the documents to prove he was who he said he was and the family lawyers didn’t doubt his claims, it was William’s lawyers who, naturally enough, were disputing it.

  She was glad that these black garbed men had elected to put up in the village inn and not reside at Rivenhall. Their daily visits were enough to bear.

  The weeks slid by and the weather worsened and Christmas was approaching, but no word from the colonel was forthcoming. Rivenhall became more agitated while Richard remained calm, the epitome of a man with nothing more pressing to engage him than a lack of funds.

  Amelia took her lead from Richard. She rode, sewed, painted and read. Sometimes with Richard at her side, but never with the other gentleman. She began to listen, like Sultan, for the sound of his voice outside the door. She felt herself blessed by his company and basked in his marked attentions.

  He never sat with her alone, Martha or Annie, one of the new parlour maids, always sat with them. No proprieties were broken, nothing out of place was said, but Amelia believed Richard was only waiting for his title to be confirmed before he made her an offer.

  She was counting down the days to the time when he was free to speak. She realized she had been in love with her cousin from almost the moment she had seen him, dripping wet, on the

  day of his arrival.

  One morning, six weeks after the letter had been sent to Belgium, a reply finally came. Strangely the note was addressed to Amelia. With shaking fingers she removed the wafer and perused the contents. The note was brief.

  Dear Miss Rivenhall,

  I thank you for your cordial invitation to visit you at Rivenhall and regret the tardiness of my reply. Please expect me by the 15th.

  Yours sincerely,

  Henry Dewkesbury.

  Amelia ran to the library to look at the calendar, it was the twelfth, so in three days everything would be decided. Thankfully Rivenhall had taken himself off to a pugilist event being held a few

  miles away and would be absent for two days.

  Richard was, as had become his custom most mornings, working industriously in the estate office. Still clutching the letter Amelia hurried to find him and tell him the good news. She knocked but without waiting for his answer, burst in, waving the letter as she entered.

  ‘Richard, we have heard at last. Your colonel will be here in three days. Is it not excellent news?’

  He put down his pen and stood up. ‘It is indeed, Millie. I am glad the wait is over and matters can be settled.’

  ‘Should I send a message to Rivenhall, do you think?’

  ‘There is no need. I am sure his lawyers will already have informed him.’ He laughed dryly. ‘You can be certain he will be here on the 15th. I have a few more things to complete so will you excuse me, my dear?’

  Rather taken aback by his lack of enthusiasm, Amelia nodded. ‘Of course, Richard, I shall leave you to get on. Shall I see you at luncheon?’

  ‘I am afraid not. I have to go out directly and will not be back until dinner.’

  ‘Then, I shall look forward to seeing you this evening.’

  He nodded absently, and resumed his seat, his mind obviously on other things.

  Chapter Eight

  From her vantage point on the window seat Amelia saw Richard canter off down the drive an hour later, she wondered where he was going in such a hurry. She had decided to wear her emerald silk dinner gown, in spite of the unhappy circumstances of its last outing, she loved the way it made her look. Recently she had found herself more preoccupied with her appearance than she was used to, which had not gone unremarked by her dresser.

  He returned from his mysterious trip and, elegantly attired in formal black, was already in the small drawing-room when she came down later. ‘You look lovely, Millie, emerald is your colour.’ He knew by now not to offer her a drink.

  ‘Thank you, Richard.’ She dipped her head in acknowledgement, glad they were, for once, to dine without their unwelcome guest. But dinner was not the happy meal she had hoped. Richard was abstracted and not inclined to talk. Exasperated by his inattention she finally put politeness to one side and said what was on her mind.

  ‘Richard, what is wrong? You have scarcely said three words to me in the past twenty minutes. Have I done something to offend you?’

  He reached out and captured her waving hand. ‘I have much to think about, my dear. I must

  apologize if I have been neglecting you.’

  The butler returned to clear the covers and instantly he released her. When the servants had left he pushed his chair back angrily.

  ‘This is no good. I have to talk to you without these interruptions. Will you agree to meet me in the library later tonight, when everyone is in bed and we may have privacy?’

  Her spirits soared. He was going to declare his intentions. So that is why he had been so preoccupied. ‘Yes, of course I will. I shall retire now, but what time shall I rejoin you?’

  ‘Eleven o’clock – even Foster should be abed by then.’ He came round and pulled her chair out for her, his hands brushing her bare shoulders as he did so. His gentle touch sent a frisson of excitement rippling through her.

  ‘Until later then, Richard, goodnight.’

  ‘Goodnight, Millie, I shall be waiting.’

  She floated upstairs her head full of plans for the new life she would have as Lady Rivenhall. She understood that it would have to be a small wedding as it was only a few months since her dear mother had gone to join Papa in eternal rest.

  She had been dreading the Christmas celebration without her mother. Now she had something to look forward to; she wondered if Richard would want to take a wedding trip, she had never ventured further than the nearby market town and the idea of seeing more of the world was exciting.

  If Martha was surprised to see her back so early, and so happy, she was too well trained to comment. ‘Will you be needing me again tonight, Miss Millie?’ She asked as she placed the silk dress back in the closet.

  ‘No, Martha, you may go. I intend to read before I sleep, so leave the lam
ps burning if you please.’ Her maid departed through the servant’s door in the dressing-room leaving Amelia with her

  thoughts. She had almost one and a half hours to wait before her exciting assignation and the time refused to pass.

  At last the time for her meeting arrived; she tied her robe more firmly and then placed a pretty Kashmir wrap around her. It would be cold downstairs now the fires were out. She crept to the door and silently opened it a crack. The corridor outside was inky black.

  Like a wraith, her unbound hair floating around her shoulders, she left her bedchamber. Candlestick aloft in one hand, her skirts held in the other, she slipped down the stairway, tiptoeing across the echoing hall and into the passageway that led to the library.

  The door was ajar and she could see the flicker of fire and candlelight within. Richard was there before her. The fact that meeting a man, unchaperoned, in her nightgown, would hopelessly compromise her if ever it became known did not bother her. She was meeting Richard, the man she loved, the man she was going to marry; he would never have suggested anything that might harm her reputation or her person.

  ‘Come in, Millie, and close the door, I do not want us to be disturbed.’ Richard spoke softly from his position by the fire, but made no move to meet her.

  Amelia giggled. ‘This is so exciting, Richard. It is years since I stole about Rivenhall in the dark.’

  He didn’t return her smile. In fact he looked serious, unlike the man she had come to know so well. ‘Sit down, on the sofa, Millie, there is much I have to tell you, and none of it will make pleasant hearing.’

  She sat, her pulse fluttering unpleasantly. What he did next finally made her recognize how stupid she had been to agree to this meeting. He strode across to the door, turned the key, removed

  it, and placed it in the pocket of his topcoat.

  Her eyes were huge and all colour left her face. When he saw her fear Richard used words she had never heard before.

  ‘I am sorry, sweetheart, but I cannot have you bolting before I finish. I give you my word of honour, I shall not harm you. Do you understand?’ She nodded, unable to speak. ‘Good girl. Please promise not to interrupt; you will have plenty of time for questions at the end.’