by Joan Smith
Little survived of the original thirteenth-century Cistercian abbey. Over the centuries, it had been subjected to cannonball, fire, and depredation. In fact, the dower house standing a thousand feet from it was said to have been built of the stones from the west wing of the original abbey. But the main building looked very old to Alice, and was imbued with romance. She thought it the most beautiful house in all of England.
Sprawling wings of weathered stone stood out against the blue sky and greenery of the park. There were lancet windows in front, but her approach from the west gave her a view of long casement windows, with the famous Mersham terraced gardens below, leading to an allée of poplars and terminating in a man-made lake. Griffin had taught her how to catch tadpoles there when she was young. She still looked for them every spring, but no longer took them home in a bottle.
She hoped she would find Griffin outdoors on this fine day. If she went to the house, she would have to deal with Monty, or perhaps Lady Griffin was back at home by now. Alice circled the terraced gardens on her way to the stable. The flowers were in full bloom. She stopped to admire a purple cloud of campanulas, backed by a profusion of roses. A drift of some white blooms seemed to rest on top of a stone wall. She knew they actually grew on the other side of the wall.
In the distance, flowers of all hues spread like a painting before her, with patches of white flowers and greenery acting as a buffer to the colored areas. The air was heavy with perfume. She continued reluctantly around to the stable. Lafferty, the groom, recognized her at once. “Is Griffin at home?” she asked.
“His lordship's gone to a horse auction, miss. Should be home any time now."
“He did not waste much time,” Alice said, smiling in approval.
“There's been nothing fit for a gentleman to throw a leg over since Mr. Montgomery took over. Things'll change now."
They gossiped for five minutes. Alice heard that Montgomery was still at Mersham. The expected blowup had not occurred, except for a bit of a holler over her ladyship's being in the dower house. While they were chatting, Griffin arrived, riding a showy bay gelding.
“Alice, what are you doing here? Is Myra home?” he asked. A hopeful smile beamed.
“Yes, we just arrived. I would like a word with you, Griffin, if you are free."
Alice had to admire the gelding's points before opening her budget. It was a fine animal, fiery of eye, long and trim of limb, and deep-chested.
“Would you like to go in and say hello to Mama?” Griffin said.
“Not just now, Griffin. I have something to tell you."
His eyes flew open in alarm. He took her by the elbow to hasten her away from the groom's ears. They strolled toward the lake. “She hasn't accepted him!” Griffin asked. She read the horror in his eyes.
“No."
The tension eased out of his body, and a small smile of triumph lifted his lips. “You frightened the wits out of me, brat. If she has come home early, then surely—"
“She brought Dunsmore with her."
“What!” It was an angry howl of dismay.
“She brought him to Newbold."
“Then she must have accepted him."
“No, no."
“Why else would he be here?"
“She's still trying to make up her mind,” Alice said, ashamed to say it.
Griffin uttered a few oaths and kicked a stone so hard he broke the leather on the toe of his top boot. “She takes the lady's prerogative of indecision too far."
“It is a pity she left London, for she was quite falling in love with you when you were away."
“Really?” His first smile soon faded to a frown. “I fear that is a somewhat ambiguous compliment. Can she not love me when I am near? Must I return to Brazil to win her?"
“At least it would enable you to travel some more,” she said, trying to lighten the air.
“I am through with buzzing around the world,” he said, but he said it wistfully.
They reached the lake, and sat on a large table rock by its edge. Griffin gazed into the still water, frowning. “I should have forced her to a decision before I left, as I intended to."
“Take heart, Griffin. Dunsmore will be like a fish out of water in the countryside. He is a wretched rider. He looks like a stick on horseback. You are at your best in the country. Make a dashing toilette and go cantering up to her, mounted on your new gelding. He is a fine animal, by the by. Has he a name?"
“He is called Lightning,” he replied distractedly.
“I expect you will be looking for a hunter as well?"
“Yes. What is she doing now, Alice?"
“Probably having tea. We just arrived. I came straight over to tell you."
“What an excellent helper you are! You must be wanting your tea, too. Why won't you come in and say hello to Mama? She would like to see you."
“Another time. Tomorrow perhaps,” she replied. He nodded, still distracted. “She did not even send me a note, to let me know she is home,” he said.
“She will. Give her time to settle in. Why do you not come over this evening?"
Griffin's jaw firmed in decision. “I shan't call until she lets me know she is here, and asks me to come."
“Then I shall look forward to seeing you this evening. And now I shall really go for a ride. That was my excuse to get away."
“Am I turning you into a deceiver, with my machinations?”
“Good gracious, no! I have always been a deceiver,” she replied airily.
“Not you, Sal. Unlike most ladies, you say what you mean, and mean what you say. Even when you picked Mama's rare Queen Charlotte roses, that she was nurturing for a prize, you owned up to it."
“Unfortunately, integrity does not seem to count for much with gentlemen,” she retorted sharply.
He looked surprised. “Were you not boasting of your conquests in London? I am surprised you escaped without being caught."
“I had two offers,” she said, “but it was not my integrity the gentlemen liked. In one case it was my dowry; and in the other, it was my amiability. Mr. Jenkins told me I was the most amiable girl he ever met."
“There is something to be said for an amiable girl,” Griffin said. He smiled ruefully and seized her hand. Alice, in her outmoded habit, still looked like a child to him. “Anyway, there is no rush, Sal. You are young."
She withdrew her hand. He noticed a flush invade her cheeks. Why did a reminder of their precious youth invariably annoy young ladies? He also noticed that a very feminine body was pressing against the material of her too small riding habit. He found it strangely exciting.
“I was eighteen last month, Griffin. My mama was married when she was seventeen."
“Good Lord, eighteen! And I can give you a decade. Sometimes it seems I left England a young sprout, and returned an old man. It is high time I marry and set up a nursery. Monty's taking over Mersham has reminded me of my mortality. I should like my son to assume the estate when I die."
“The groom said Monty is still at Mersham."
“Yes, until he makes other arrangements. You were right about his being a good guardian, Sal."
“He is highly spoken of hereabouts. We were worried when he took charge, but really it was a benefit in disguise. Your mama takes an interest in the gardens, but seemed all adrift about other estate matters."
“He devoted every minute to his duties. One cannot accuse him of slacking. We Griffins always spent too much time on horticulture. Monty has squeezed the purse strings tightly. A little more tightly than I like, actually, but the extra savings will enable me to right a few wrongs."
“What do you mean?"
“He retired three elderly servants on a very miserly pension. Sold off my spare cattle. There was nothing in the stable but one carriage team and his own hack. I notice he is also scrimping on gardeners. Mama used to hire a dozen local fellows to give the gardeners a hand in the busy season. The gardens have always been a feature of Mersham. All that can be remedied, how
ever. Monty was a wise investor."
“The gardens still look very nice. I noticed them as I drove up."
“Oh yes, he kept the chief gardener on, and allowed him a few assistants. It still looks well enough, but a garden such as ours is not only maintained, it is constantly being improved. I look forward to getting my South American specimens going. I daresay I shall have to enlarge the conservatory."
Alice listened attentively. “It will be hard for Monty, losing out on Mersham."
“I shan't leave him penniless, but my heart hardens when I consider his haste in removing Mama to the dower house. He didn't even fix it up for her."
“Who is at the dower house now?"
“It is empty. Monty suggested I lease it. I am not sure I want a stranger so close to Mersham."
“Why don't you ‘let Monty stay there?” she suggested.
“I doubt he would want to. He'll be looking for a job. I shan't hesitate to give him a good character."
“Why don't you hire him to look after Mersham, under your supervision so that he does not become too thrifty? You said he is an able manager, and you will want to devote plenty of time to the conservatory.” He is acquainted with the place now, and has made friends locally. I wager he would jump at the offer."
Griffin looked interested. “That is not a bad idea, Sal. I shall put it to him. And if I can talk Myra into a honeymoon in Italy, it will be well to have Monty looking after things here."
“She didn't mention a honeymoon in Italy! How lovely!"
“I have not dared to mention it to her. She dislikes the notion of my darting off alone—I can understand that, but that is not to say we could not go on a civilized sort of journey together. And Greece is so close, I hope to talk her into a side trip there. I should like to roam the rock cliffs of Greece, gathering specimens of wildflowers."
“I should like to see the ruins. To sit in one of those old amphitheaters and listen to someone declaiming below. Mr. Jenkins said you can hear a pin drop.” She stopped and narrowed her eyes at him. “But roaming cliffs? This honeymoon is beginning to sound less civilized, and less likely to attract Myra,” she warned.
“If Greece is not civilized, I should like to know what is. It is the very cradle of Western civilization."
“That is mere sophistry, sir. You know very well ruins and roaming cliffs are not Myra's idea of civilization. Balls and plays and concerts now—does Greece have such amenities?"
“You've got me there, Sal, but Italy certainly has. If I agree to the balls and plays and concerts, she must give way to something, too. Marriage involves compromises."
Alice rose. “That is for you two lovebirds to argue out between you. I am merely the messenger. And we know what happens to messengers,” she added.
Griffin also stood up and began accompanying her back to the stable. “Only when they bring bad news. I do feel, however, that news of Myra's arrival ought to have come from herself. Perhaps there is a note waiting for me."
Alice did not encourage him in this hope. She felt quite certain Myra would not have written yet. “I look forward to seeing you soon at Newbold."
He lifted her onto her mount, as he had often done in the past. As his hands closed around her waist, he was conscious of the soft flare of hips, and the gentle swell of her bosoms. He was also aware of a strange stirring within him.
“You are getting a little large for me to lift you,” he said, embarrassed lest his thoughts were evident.
“Next time I shall use the mounting block.” He noticed the conscious look in her eyes, and knew she felt this new awareness, too.
The groom, watching, chewed back a smile. “It was your leaving that did the harm, milord. Folks do say that if a fellow lifts a heifer when she is newborn and keeps doing so every day, he can eventually lift a full-grown cow."
“Thank you for calling me a cow, Lafferty!” Alice said, and urged her mount forward.
“She's all growed up,” Lafferty said, and returned to his duties.
Griffin looked after Alice as she dashed toward the park. She was totally at home on horseback. He watched as her straight back and proud little head disappeared around a corner. A pity Myra was not a little more like her. He remembered that Myra did not ride if she could help it. She did not go in much for any physical activity except dancing. If it were Sal he was in love with, there would be no arguing necessary about the trip to Greece. He had an inkling Sal would love it.
Chapter Nine
“Have you let Griffin know you are home?” Alice asked, as the sisters went belowstairs to dinner that evening. She had not told anyone of her trip to Mersham, and with a duke to be entertained, it did not occur to anyone to ask her.
“I shall let him know tomorrow. Dunny and I wanted one evening alone first,” Myra replied blandly.
“It is only common courtesy to tell him, before he hears it in the village. I think you should write to him now."
“It is time for dinner."
“It wouldn't take a minute."
“No, no. He will come the minute I write. I am too tired to face him tonight. There is no hurry. I shall write tomorrow morning."
Alice felt a sting of anger at that complacent, He will come the minute I write. Yet it was true. “What of the aching void in your heart?” she asked snidely.
“Mama said he should not have written such warm things."
“You showed his letters to Mama!” Alice exclaimed.
“Of course I did."
As they were not considered private, Alice was eager to read Griffin's outpourings herself. “Can I see them?"
“Certainly not. You are too young."
“You may be older, but you are no wiser, Myra. You should have let Griffin know you are home. Don't wait any longer than tomorrow, or he will be in a wretched temper,” she said curtly.
Myra smiled her gloating smile. “I shouldn't think so, Alice. He will be happy to see me, as he expected me to stay in London for another week at least. Anyway, what concern is it of yours?” She did not wait for a reply, but flounced into the saloon.
There were no guests for dinner the first evening. Dinner was quiet to the point of tedium. The duke was nervous about Griffin; Mrs. Newbold was nervous at having the duke as a guest; Alice was irritated; and Myra was distracted. What little conversation there was centered around Griffin.
“Daresay he will wonder why I am here,” the duke said, stirring his potatoes into a mound, but not eating them.
“He will know why you are here, Duke,” Alice said.
“That is true, but we shan't make an issue of it. I mean to say—when you see him, Myra, you might just—” Alice smiled into her collar. The duke saw her sly smile, and blushed. “Whatever you say, be sure you say nothing. To upset him, I mean. We do not want any scandal. Mama hates anything in the way of a brouhaha.” He frowned in consternation. That did not sound quite right, somehow.
“Try the capon, Your Grace,” Mrs. Newbold said. “You will like it.” Now what was that chit of an Alice smirking about?
After dinner, the ladies and the duke gathered in the saloon for a game of whist, only to learn that His Grace scarcely knew a spade from a club. With nothing better to do, they played cards anyway.
“Heh heh, nothing to it,” the duke said, gathering up Mrs. Newbold's trick. “It is as easy as chopping off a log."
She was too nice to point out his error. A commanding glare at her younger daughter kept Alice from telling him, and the game continued in this haphazard fashion.
Alice was on pins, wondering if Griffin would come. Good to his word, he stayed at home, pacing the saloon like a caged lion, and giving his mama a case of the fidgets.
“Either go to see her or sit down, James,” Lady Griffin said, after enduring twenty minutes of his frenzied pacing. “You are wearing out the carpet."
Lady Griffin was happy to be back in her own saloon. She was tall, dark, and handsome, like her son. Gravity was beginning to get the better of this faded bea
uty's chin and jaws, but her eyes were still brightly alert. She especially enjoyed having Monty to lord it over, after his shabby treatment of her. At the moment, she was pretending to read the Morning Observer, for no reason but to keep it from him.
Montgomery, although he was only in his late thirties, wore the wizened appearance of the nip farthing. He shared some physical resemblance to the Griffins—mostly height and coloring—but his features were sharper.
“Would you like to go over the current accounts, Griffin?” he asked.
“Not tonight, Monty.” Griffin continued pacing back and forth in front of the fireplaces at either end of the gold saloon, never glancing at the splendor around him. Molded ceilings, fine furnishings wearing the patina of age and beeswax, an Oriental carpet and a set of matching Van Dykes of his ancestors went unnoticed.
Why did she not write? She was with Dunsmore, holed up in some corner, whispering sweet nothings, while her mama smiled in approval. Had Myra only come home to torment him? On his next trip toward the door, he kept walking.
“Going to Newbold, are you?” Lady Griffin called.
“I shall be in the conservatory, if any message comes for me,” he called back, and kept walking.
“A hand of cards, Mr. Montgomery?” Lady Griffin asked. She knew Monty hated cards. She also knew he hoped to be given the dower house, and was thus on his best behavior. Griffin had not told him the news yet. Lady Griffin thought it an excellent plan, although she had no intention of letting Monty run tame at Mersham once he had his own house.
“Delightful,” Monty said dutifully, and went to get the game table.
In his conservatory, Griffin sorted through the specimens he had collected in Brazil and carefully nurtured until he got them home. Some of them were small rooted plants carefully dug out of the earth and transplanted into pots; others were cuttings he had kept in moist cotton to root, but most were seeds. Each seed bag bore a tag of identification, along with his sketch of the mature plant and its preferred soil and light requirement. He was doing research to see if some of them might endure outdoor planting in England's cooler climate. That brick wall that caught the afternoon sun would hold the warmth for hours, and protect fragile plants from wind. He would try some of his exotic specimens there.
