Emma nodded, she was proud she had been able to assemble such a delicious array of local produce at such short notice. Fred had killed a chicken and that was to form the centre-piece of the meal, then she had managed to obtain some trout caught fresh that morning. These would be served poached with dill and parsley. 'We have plum pie and fresh cream, and our own cheese to follow. Make sure that the tea tray is ready for later.'
Satisfied she had done enough, and sure that neither Aggie nor Jane would let her down, she went to check the drawing-room was equally pristine and sparkling, and then she ran upstairs to join her sister in the luxury of a bath in the tub placed in front of the fire in her bed-chamber.
At five o'clock precisely she was waiting beside her father and sister in the drawing-room to greet their guests who were expected momentarily. Excitement fizzed around her body. They all looked as they should; her gown and that of her sister’s had been copied perfectly from a recent fashion plate and were as close to the original as it was possible to be.
Eugenie was a wonderful seamstress and could produce gowns that were the envy of the village. Her own, of pale green sarcenet over a darker green silk underskirt suited her auburn hair to perfection. Admittedly the neckline was a trifle daring, but her mother's emeralds filled the gap admirably.
Eugenie's gown was pale gold with an over dress of gauze, and even to her biased view she believed her sister looked incomparable. This evening Papa had made an effort, his faded black evening coat was freshly pressed, his cravat snowy white and his unmentionables neatly buttoned at the knees. For once, his stockings were unwrinkled and his evening pumps unmarked. This was a miracle for him as he normally had some discrepancy in his appearance.
The sound of voices, and footsteps, approaching up the gravel path warned her that their guests had arrived.
The distance from Kesgrave Abbey to the vicarage was barely a mile and presumably, as the night was balmy, Denver and his friend would have chosen to walk. She wondered what the villagers had made of the appearance of the two gentlemen strolling down the lane dressed in full evening dress. She froze. A horrible thought occurred to her. Would they have bothered to wear formal attire? What if they turned up in day clothes? The three of them would be embarrassingly over dressed – but far too late to do anything about it now.
She looked across at her sister and her father, then down at herself. She was no longer pleased with their appearance; they were ridiculously rigged out for a simple meal being held in a rustic vicarage. This was not London, she was not a society hostess – what could have possessed them to pretend otherwise?
She heard the front door open and she braced herself and a wave of heat suffused her. The problem with having pale skin and red hair was she blushed far too easily. She had left the door slightly ajar deliberately, sometimes it stuck, and that would never do tonight.
Jane, in fresh white cap and apron over her best blue dress, curtsied and then stood back to let their guests enter. Her father, never one to stand on ceremony, bustled forward with his hand outstretched in greeting.
'Lord Denver, and Mr Tennent, you're most welcome here. Allow me to introduce you to my daughters.'
Emma was slowly recovering her composure having seen that both men were as overdressed as they, but wearing trousers rather than knee breeches and stockings. She smiled at Lord Denver, looking handsome, his golden hair falling across his forehead, his intricate cravat held in place by a single diamond pin. To her astonishment her father was addressing the shorter, older gentlemen.
'May I present my eldest daughter, Emma, and this is her younger sister, Eugenie.'
Emma's knees almost buckled beneath her. Of course! How could she have been so stupid? The reason the dark man had given the orders was because he was Lord Denver and the younger man his brother. She sank into a deep curtsy glad that her legs did not let her down. Gracefully she rose and raised her head expecting to see the same patronising smile flickering around his mobile mouth. She received her second shock of the evening.
Lord Denver was staring at her a stunned expression on his face; she watched him swallow as if nervous, but surely that could not be? Then he bowed and his mouth curved into a smile of such devastating charm that for the second time in as many minutes her knees threatened to abandon her. How could she have thought this man austere and supercilious?
She was hardly aware of her introduction to Mr Percy Tennent or of her sister's reaction to the younger man's attentions. She was to bitterly regret her inattention.
Chapter Four
Conversation at the dinner table was lively and Emma became so engrossed in the discussion about the iniquities of the Corn Law and the agricultural unrest that was spreading throughout the country, that she didn't notice how her sister and Mr Tennent were conducting their own, far more personal conversation.
The first course was cleared and the second placed in front of them; Lord Denver exchanged a smile with his brother and her cheeks coloured with annoyance. If there was one thing she disliked above
all others it was being excluded from a private jest.
He saw her looking at him and grinned apologetically. 'We had not expected such a splendid repast, Miss Meadows. I had no idea country parson set such a good table.'
She could see his eyes glinting with amusement, so responded in kind. 'Indeed, my lord, if you had come last night you would have had bread and dripping for your supper. However, I have called in a deal of favours and Mr Meadows sent out to the squire for some claret and there you are. A meal fit for a king.' She smiled at him. 'Well, for a lord and his brother anyway.'
She waited until Jane had set out the freshly baked plum tart and put the jug of thick cream beside it, then next to that a large wedge of their own cheese and a basket of early apples. There was also a blanc mange made with raspberries picked yesterday from the garden and to complete the array a dish of hothouse peaches, also a gift from the squire.
Her father beamed around the table; he was happy his guests and his beloved daughters were in such high spirits. 'My lord, what can I serve you with?'
Lord Denver smiled enigmatically at her and then gestured towards the pie. 'A slice of that, if you please, sir, for plums are my favourite fruit and freshly picked ones especially.'
Emma bristled. He had known all along, had recognized her as soon as he'd come in, indeed had very probably known them not to be as they purported at the time. Well, he was not going to cause her further embarrassment. She would turn the tables neatly on him.
'Yes, my lord, these very plums were picked from your own orchards. My sister and I collected them the other day.' She heard a gasp from Eugenie and her father dropped the silver knife he was wielding. She waited a moment before continuing blithely. 'The previous Lord Denver gave the village permission to help themselves to fruit and vegetables as they wished. He had no desire for it and was not one to see things going to waste.' She raised her head and stared directly at Lord Denver. He was no longer smiling, but looking watchful, waiting for her to finish. 'In fact, my lord, the only way your tenants have managed to survive these past few years is because they could eat freely from the estate, including any rabbits and game they could find.'
His mouth thinned and he sat straighter in his chair. 'I see.' He ignored her and addressed his remarks to the end of the table, to her father. 'Could I ask you, sir, to give notice after your sermon on Sunday, that the estate is no longer available for poaching and stealing? As I am not only the landowner but also the nearest magistrate, I shall not look kindly on anyone who ignores the law.'
Emma lost her appetite. She dropped her napkin abruptly and stood up. Eugenie had no choice but to follow. 'I shall leave you gentleman to finish your dessert and take port, if that is what you wish. Eugenie and I will be on the terrace.'
Without waiting for an answer she swept from the room, head held high and her lips pressed together to stop herself from giving an intemperate and disrespectful response. She stalked down the length o
f the drawing-room and out of the open doors had the end. She could hear her sister behind, but didn't stop until she was walking briskly towards the rose garden.
'Please wait a minute, Emma. We shall ruin our gowns if we continue in this way. Although the ground is dry, it's dusty underfoot. It would be far better to stay on the terrace and wait for the gentlemen to join us.'
She was going to refuse, to continue her headlong rush to her favourite place on God's earth, a summer house constructed in the very centre of the garden, where she could curl up on the wooden seat and be alone with her thoughts.
'You're right, Eugenie. I beg your pardon for forcing you to leave the table so precipitously. That man is impossible! He has only been here two days and already he is threatening to incarcerate the local population for doing what they've been allowed to do these past ten years.'
'I know, Emma, but flying up in the boughs at him has not helped the matter, has it?'
Emma turned to face her sister, her anger gone as quickly as it came. 'When did you become the peacemaker, my love? It's usually you that needs restraining from impetuous behaviour.'
Eugenie giggled and threaded her arm through hers. 'I was so shocked to discover that Mr Tennent was not Lord Denver, were not you?'
'Of course I was. The wretched man recognized us at the outset.'
'Yes, of course he did, Mr Tennent told me so. He is a charming gentleman, don't you think, Emma? I believe that he was at Oxford finishing his studies in architecture, but Lord Denver fetched him here to draw up the plans for the improvements to the abbey. Mr Tennent intends to be here for the next few months at least.'
'I do not object to Mr Tennent, he's everything he should be. It is his obnoxious brother who ruffles my feathers. In your conversation did you discover why his lordship was so tardy in arriving here to take up his duties?'
By this time they had returned to the terrace and the early evening breeze was cooling her overheated cheeks. Emma settled on to a cushioned settle, her sister beside her.
'Yes, in fact he did; he said that Lord Denver was a major in some regiment, I forget the name, fighting against Bonaparte. It took all this time for the letter informing him he had inherited Kesgrave Abbey to find him. It seems he had no idea he was next in line for when he had gone abroad he still had cousins aplenty ahead of him.'
'I thought as much, but if he was a commoner, why is he so arrogant?' She frowned and then answered her own question. 'I believe it must be because he's used to commanding men, a soldier is a different kind of creature altogether to a normal person.'
She couldn't help herself recoiling at the thought that the urbane gentleman, at this very moment contentedly munching his way through a slice of plum tart, had blood on his hands, had killed and wounded possibly dozens of men in his lifetime.
She hated violence of any sort, would intervene between a pair of urchins squabbling in the street when she passed them. She understood the necessity for stopping the upstart Frenchman but wasn't sure if she would ever be comfortable with a man who had killed for his living, however noble his motives. The sound of voices coming towards them ended their conversation and she schooled her features into one of welcome and rose to her feet to greet them.
*
The walk home seemed longer, Richard thought morosely. His spirits were low, the evening had not ended well. Why had he let his damnable temper cause friction between Miss Meadows and himself? He felt a tightening in his chest as he pictured her, the epitome of everything that was lovely, from the tip of her delicate toes to the crown of her glorious head; she was the woman he'd spent half his life looking for. Miss Meadows was kind and intelligent, witty and brave, and from what her father had told him, she had held the family together following the death of her mother.
He kicked viciously at the stone in his path and the pain shot through his unprotected toe making him yelp out loud and swear volubly. 'I had forgotten I wasn't wearing boots, serves me right for being such a curmudgeon.' He noticed his brother was in particularly high spirits, the strained atmosphere of the second part of evening had obviously not affected his enjoyment.
'Miss Eugenie sings like a nightingale, don't you think, Richard? And Miss Meadows plays beautifully. What a delightful evening, far better than I could have imagined. Delicious food, adequate wine and the company of two diamonds of the first water. What more could a man ask for?'
Richard was forced to smile - his brother found enjoyment in simple things. Perhaps he should try to be more like him, be less serious, but feared his years spent observing the true horror of war had hardened him to frivolity.
'I agree, that was a most enjoyable evening; I look forward to inviting them all back here as soon as the place is fit for visitors.'
*
So the weeks passed, Kesgrave Abbey was slowly returned to its former glory, the grounds were scythed to within an inch of their lives, the orchards pruned, the fences mended and the villagers firmly excluded. They might have resented being unable to supplement their table from the bounties of the estate if Lord Denver had not offered employment to anyone who required it.
Emma saw the changes happening daily. Peg tiles were replaced, dilapidated cottages repaired, the walls lime washed, the dirt floors replaced with timber. The village shops and tradesmen found their businesses booming. Every able-bodied man was now working, either in the grounds, or as grooms, footmen or gardeners. Their womenfolk sent their daughters to the abbey to become whatever was required.
She was so busy helping her father, accompanying him in the new pony and trap they had been able to purchase, that she had little time to supervise her sister. She often left Eugenie with a list of instructions and the tasks were always completed without complaint by the time she returned.
They now employed two more indoor staff, a kitchen maid, and maid of all work; a sturdy lad from the village had joined Fred outside and two equally ancient villagers were now employed on a daily rate to do the gardening.
October was drawing to a close and the nights were drawing in; the harvest was gathered and her thoughts were turning towards the coming winter when she finally had time to take stock of their change in circumstances. The three of them were sitting cosily in the drawing-room, a roaring log fire in the grate, all lost in their own thoughts.
'Papa, are you sure we have not overspent? You have agreed to every suggestion, every expense that I put before you; I have been adding up the accounts and it comes to a frightening amount of money.'
'Don't fret yourself, my love. His lordship has been most generous. I had meant to tell you, but we have both been so busy these past weeks, that I quite forgot you didn't know what he has done for us. He had the increase backdated to the time that he became owner of the estate. Was that not a liberal thing to do?'
Emma was stunned. 'Then, I shall be sanguine and just enjoy the unaccustomed luxury of having funds to spare. Eugenie, we must go into Ipswich before the weather becomes cold and replace the items of clothing we were discussing the other day.'
'Mrs Busby was telling me at church last Sunday that the Emporium has recently had a delivery of material. If we go immediately there might still be some left. Jane and I can start making us new gowns for the festive season.
'Then we shall do so and Jane must come with us; Papa, you must make a list of anything you have need of also.'
Her father beamed and patted his pocket. 'I forgot to tell you, girls, today I received a card from Kesgrave Abbey – we are invited to dine next Friday. There is to be dancing, and everyone in the
neighbourhood of any consequence will be there.'
Her initial reservations about Lord Denver had long since dissipated and Emma couldn't help a thrill of excitement at the prospect of attending an event of such importance, of being able to appear looking her best for the man she'd come to regard with such warm affection.
She and Eugenie had attended several subscription balls over the years at the local market town where there was a moderate s
ize assembly room, but they had never been invited to an event like this.
'In that case, it's imperative that we go to Ipswich tomorrow. Eugenie, do you think you and Jane can make us a suitable gown before next Friday? We only have the one evening dress and Lord Denver and his brother have already seen us in that.'
'I'm sure we can. Papa, do you think we could have slippers and matching gloves as well?'
'You shall have whatever you want, my dear. You have both been most uncomplaining during our years of hardship, I shall not stint you now we have plenty.'
Friday came around too soon – the final stitches in their outfits had been placed that very morning. Emma and Eugenie were ready to leave half an hour before the carriage from the abbey was due to collect them. Mr Tennent had called in the previous day to tell them Lord Denver was arranging for transport as he did not wish them to walk even such a short distance in the dark.
Over the weeks Mr Tennent had been a regular go-between for his brother and her father, fetching and carrying willingly, bringing questions and queries and returning with their answers.
When the young man wasn't busy with his drawings he seemed to be always at the vicarage under one pretext or another. Emma was unsure of her feeling towards him, she tried hard to like him but thought him a little too easy in his manners and much preferred the formality of his brother.
She had not had many opportunities to spend time alone with Lord Denver, but they had conversed after matins each Sunday, and he had called at the house and taken afternoon tea with them several times.
'I feel like a duchess, this is the most beautiful gown in the world.' Eugenie spun round, the gold spangles on her overdress catching the candlelight and the hem lifted to show dainty gold evening slippers.
'Stand still, Eugenie. If you catch your heel in the hem of your dress you will tear it.' Emma's words were enough to restrain her sister and the glittering skirts settled in a more decorous fashion about her ankles.
The Lords & Ladies Box Set Page 11
