Eventually, after only three enquiries for directions, they reach Mrs Cooper’s cottage, a modest place at the end of a row of similar cottages, which looked in need of a fresh coat of paint and a few new tiles on the roof. A boy of twelve or so worked at the vegetables, and a pair of younger children stopped chasing each other about the garden to stare at the arrivals, before running off shrieking, “Ma! Ma! Quality here to see you!”
Mrs Cooper herself bustled out to greet them, a plump woman of not much above forty, still wiping dough from her fingers. Lord Reginald introduced everyone, and Mrs Cooper nodded as each was named, with a wide smile, as if pleased to put faces to the names that, presumably, everyone in the village knew.
“Ah, Miss Chamberlain!” she cried, when it was Robinia’s turn. “My Meg has talked so much about you. I hope she has been giving satisfaction?”
“Oh, certainly,” Robinia said. “She has a wonderful way with my hair. I never had anyone arrange it so well before.”
Mrs Cooper blushed and curtsied and thanked them all repeatedly for honouring her with a visit, and would they like to step inside and sample some of her elderberry wine? They would and did, but when she tried to show them into the parlour, Lady Hardy stopped her.
“You are busy with the baking, I see. We will come into the kitchen, and talk to you while you attend to your cooking.”
Mrs Cooper protested, but Lady Hardy, despite her pleasant manner, was perfectly determined and so it was that they found themselves perched on stools in the large, smoky kitchen, sipping strong elderberry wine from pottery beakers. Lady Hardy found herself an apron, and nothing would do but for her to roll up her sleeves and set to work on the pastry.
“I adore having my hands in the dough, Mrs Cooper, and I so seldom get the chance these days. My mother-in-law would be mortified to see me anywhere near flour at home, and Lord Carrbridge’s chef is so grand he terrifies me half to death, so pray excuse me for indulging my fancy for once. How large would you like these rounds?”
And before long, everything was easy and Robinia was able to bring the talk round to the matter of Lake Cottage and the mysterious residents.
“Oh, the Doyles, you mean?” Mrs Cooper said, looking up from the tray where she was spooning jam into tartlet cases. “Why, they have been living there for… oh, six or seven years now, I suppose. It was not long after Mrs Mallory moved out, to live with Miss Beatrice… Mrs Stoner, I should say. Mr Doyle and the eldest boy work over at the mill, and the eldest girl is kitchen maid at the parsonage. Oh, yes, everyone knows them.”
“But how did they come to be living there?” Robinia said.
“Why through Mr Sharp, of course,” she said in surprise. “Did you not know? Mrs Doyle is cousin to Mr Sharp.”
8: Twigs
Reggie heard this revelation with astonishment. Not only had Sharp known all about the occupants of Lake Cottage, but he had invited them there, as relations of his.
“Where did they go to?” Robinia said. “The Doyles moved out in the middle of the night, just a few hours ago, and where would they go at such short notice?”
“Why, miss, they’re next door but one to me… the middle one of the row. That’s been empty since old Jem died two years ago. Mind you, they’ll have the same trouble with the roof that we have here — tiles missing and some fine leaks when it rains.” She laughed, but then said, “It seemed a bit sudden, like, the Doyles having to move out so quick. It was an unofficial arrangement, just minding the house, so to speak, until a tenant was found, but they’d expected to get more notice, when the time came.”
“That was my fault, Mrs Cooper,” Merton said. “I am to rent the house from Lord Carrbridge, and chose to inspect it straight away. No one at Drummoor had the slightest idea the house was occupied, least of all Lord Carrbridge, whose house it is. It sounds as if Mr Sharp chose to evict his relatives at once rather than explain their presence.”
There was just enough reproof in his tone to make Mrs Cooper flush uncomfortably, although it was not her fault in any way.
Reggie felt that he ought to defend Sharp’s behaviour at this point, but he found himself unable to do so. Why had he not told anyone about the tenants? Everyone in the village knew about them, and presumably the servants at Drummoor were just as well-informed, but none of the family even knew that Carrbridge owned the house, never mind that it was occupied. It was very strange.
“I daresay he felt a little awkward about it,” Robinia said calmly. “After all, if they were living there rent-free…”
“Oh, they paid rent,” Mrs Cooper said. “It wasn’t much, mind, just a token amount, because they were taking care of the place, but still…” She paused, her round face creased by a frown. “You say his lordship owns Lake Cottage? Well, that I never knew! I always thought… well, no matter. It will be a fine thing to have the house properly lived in again.”
“Mrs Cooper,” Merton said, “I have some men coming to attend to the roof at Lake Cottage next week. Shall I send them here to look at yours? We might as well take advantage of them while they are here.”
“Oh, how kind! Although it should be for Mr Sharp to take care of it. He’s the agent. But I daresay he’s busy with more important matters for his lordship. But I’d be right pleased to have the roof fixed, sir, once your own is done. Are you a married man, Mr Merton?”
“Not at present,” he said in his laconic way. “But who knows what the future may bring?”
“There! These are ready for baking,” Lady Hardy said briskly. “Which is your hot oven, Mrs Cooper?”
Reggie said nothing, watching them all with interest, and a little speculation, too. It was not the first time Merton had talked of marrying, but who would have him? A secretary, even with a good salary, was not much of a catch, and Merton was neither handsome nor particularly charming towards ladies. His manner was dour, at the best of times, he had no family connections, and with his acute eye, dry wit and unsmiling countenance, he would seem to have little to offer a wife.
He thought more complacently of Miss Chamberlain. She wore a blue pelisse today, and with Merton, Lady Hardy, Mrs Cooper and Reggie himself in black, she looked like a kingfisher amongst crows. He liked the way she was equally at ease here in a humble villagers’ cottage as at Drummoor. No doubt she would move through London society with the same unruffled demeanour. He wondered idly if she could dance, and determined to find a way to discover the answer to the question before she left Drummoor.
They walked back through the village in very pleasant style, with Miss Chamberlain on his arm and Lady Hardy on Merton’s. The centre of the village was crowded with people, for the fish wagon was there, and every housewife able to afford the luxury of fish was there with her basket.
“Oh, look, Mr Merton! Crab!” cried Lady Hardy. “I have not had crab in an age.”
“Should you like some?” Merton said at once. “I will procure one for you, and Henri will dress it just as you like it.”
As he made his way through the crowds, Miss Chamberlain said, “Do you enjoy crab, Lady Hardy? I find it too strong for my taste.”
“It is a strong flavour, but quite delicious when properly prepared, to my mind. And it was quite Sir Osborne’s favourite food, so every time I eat crab I am reminded of my husband and the great pleasure it gave him. His mama would never let him eat it, for she thought it injurious to his health, and he was too polite to oppose her, but when I was mistress of Brinford Manor, I made sure he had everything he liked best to eat.”
Miss Chamberlain said quietly, “He sounds like a most amiable man.”
“He was,” Lady Hardy said, her face softening. “A perfect gentleman, always. In fact, that was how I came to marry him. He was out driving in his carriage one day, and he saw me standing forlornly under a tree with the rain coming down in torrents, quite soaked, for my horse had shed a shoe. He could no more abandon a lady in trouble than he could wear trousers instead of knee-breeches to a ball. He took me up in his carriag
e, despite the very grave risk that I would splash him with mud, and he proposed shortly thereafter. But he was never well, and declined year by year.”
“Poor Sir Osborne!” Miss Chamberlain said. “Consumption is a dreadful affliction.”
“Indeed it is,” Lady Hardy said, her voice wavering. “He suffered dreadfully towards the end, although he bore it so bravely. His death was a great release and those of us who loved him must be glad that he is now with God and suffers no more.”
“I am so sorry,” Miss Chamberlain said. “That was thoughtless of me. I did not mean to remind you of your grief. It must be the worst thing in the world to lose a dear husband.”
Lady Hardy took a deep breath. “My memories of Sir Osborne are all good ones, so you have done nothing to reproach yourself for. And you are quite wrong. There are many things in this world worse than losing one’s husband. A great many things.”
Her tone was so solemn that Reggie was relieved when Merton returned just then with his crab neatly wrapped in brown paper and string. They walked the rest of the way to Drummoor in near silence.
~~~~~
That evening’s dinner was enlivened by Henri, the marquess’s French chef, arriving in the green dining room in person, bearing the crab, boiled and dressed and artfully arranged in a dish of fricasséed mushrooms. Lady Hardy ate a little, declared it quite delicious, then passed it around the table to be sampled by everyone. Reggie noticed Miss Chamberlain trying it out, raising her eyebrows in surprise and then eating the rest of her spoonful with relish. He had not been able to sit beside her that evening, for Julius Whittleton had claimed the seat to one side of her, and one of his sisters the other. Instead, he did his duty by two of his aunts, all the while watching Miss Chamberlain covertly. He held perfectly lucid conversations with Aunt Juliana and Aunt Beatrice, but even so, he knew to an exactitude everything that Miss Chamberlain had eaten and the number of sips of wine she had taken — seven — and the number of times she had turned away from Julius — nine, who was getting rather red in the face about her obvious lack of interest in his attentions.
Reggie left the men early to claim his reward — a few minutes of Miss Chamberlain’s undivided attention.
“Did you enjoy the crab?” he said in a low voice, seating himself beside her.
She giggled, hand to mouth, in a curiously childlike gesture that delighted him. She was so composed that it was easy to forget that she was but twenty, and had never moved in the first circles before. She was an innocent, despite all her outward self-possession.
“Oh yes!” she said. “It was quite rich, I thought, but very pleasant cooked that way. Did you try it?”
“The taste of crab is familiar to me. The dish was best left to those who had not previously had the experience.”
She nodded. “Of course. You must be used to the finest of foods.”
But he thought she seemed a little subdued, so he changed the subject.
When the card tables began to be set out, Reggie said, “Connie, may we not have some dancing for a change? I am sure we have couples enough for it.”
Some of the Miss Whittletons, overhearing, clapped their hands in delight. “Oh yes! Please, please, dear Lady Carrbridge! A little dancing would be of all things the most agreeable. Is it not so, Miss Chamberlain? Do you not long to dance?”
And she agreed in the most affable manner that indeed, she did long to dance.
Having determined that Lady Hardy would not be discomposed by a little dancing, Connie ordered the carpet rolled up on the far side of the room and commandeered Aunt Beatrice to play.
“Lord Carrbridge? Will you stand up with me for a dance or two?” she said. But he was already entrenched at the card table. “Well, Reggie, it will have to be you,” she said. “You will not mind?”
“I never mind obliging you, Lady Carrbridge. May I have the honour of the first dance, my lady?” He executed a deep bow.
She laughed gaily at him. “You are nonsensical, sometimes, Reggie.” But as they crossed the room to join the set, she whispered, “Besides, better not to be too forward with her. Keep her wondering a little.”
He smiled, and tried not to be too disappointed, but as he saw Miss Chamberlain being led onto the floor by Julius Whittleton, he could not suppress a spasm of longing. But when he saw her fixed smile and the brevity of her remarks to her partner, Reggie was reassured. He had the pleasure, too, of watching her dance and determining that she was every bit as accomplished at the art as at every other of a lady’s attainments. By the time he was able to claim her hand for himself, he was so impressed at her skill that he was gloomily certain that he would render himself ineligible by standing on her feet. He was a competent dancer, but not by any means an adept.
In the end, he brushed through it tolerably well, and was rewarded by her brilliant smiles, her glowing countenance and some charming conversation, none of which he could remember afterwards. He went to bed with his head full of her, and now completely certain that she was the perfect choice for his wife. He had never had serious doubts about the step he was about to take, and he had been pleased with Miss Chamberlain from the outset. She was well-mannered and presentable, that had been his first impression, and when combined with her fortune of forty-three thousand pounds, it had been enough to secure her as his first choice as bride. Then he had seen her rigged out in finery of Connie’s devising, and had begun to be rather pleased with her. She would be a credit to him, no doubt about that.
But today he had seen her in so many different ways, and all of them reflecting credit on her character. She had all the usual accomplishments of young ladies — she could play, she could sing, she could paint, and she had proved she could dance, too, with light feet and elegantly positioned arms, responding with spirit to the music. She could conduct a conversation with considerable skill, and her manners were faultless. And yet, with Mrs Cooper she had been at ease, too, a very different setting from the grandeur of Drummoor.
Beyond that was something more. That morning, he had seen her with fire in her eyes and her cheeks aglow with anger, bandying words with him. He had stood and stared at her, utterly captivated by her boldness. Such spirit! Such a refusal to be cowed by his rank and sex, and willingness to hold her ground! It was admirable, and would stand her in good stead with the dowagers and matrons of the ton. No one would best Lady Reginald Marford! And then, when his anger had turned to teasing her, she had taken it in good part, and displayed an excellent wit.
He determined on the spot to make every effort to secure her hand before her visit ended.
Of course, once they were married, there would be no nonsense about spirit, not towards her husband. He would expect her to demur to his wishes at once, that went without saying, but she was a well-brought-up young lady, and would understand her duty as a wife. He had a vision of the two of them seated cosily in their dining parlour, she smiling and aglow with happiness, and he well pleased with his lot. He would be an indulgent and generous husband, he decided, and she would express her gratitude with charming blushes and meekly downcast eyes. Yes, she would do very well.
With this decision made, he set out to court Miss Chamberlain in good earnest. Not in the manner of Julius Whittleton, with fulsome compliments and high-flown words, but with delicate little attentions — a small posy of flowers, for instance, the colours chosen after having ascertained from her maid which gown she might wear to dinner that day, or a book or piece of music that might interest her. One day, having discovered her out in the garden trying to count the chimneys, he took her up to the roof and clambered here and there to do the counting, while she sat with a notebook writing down the numbers. There were quiet hours while he watched her paint, and then the amusement of displaying all the ladies’ paintings of the great hall for the contest. It gave him a surprising degree of satisfaction when Miss Chamberlain — or his Miss Chamberlain, as he was already beginning to consider her — was declared the winner.
And eventually, the d
ay before she was to leave, he produced his masterstroke — the collection of twigs remembered from his youth. He had not found it in the library, and after a trying and dusty search had tracked it down in one of the many attics. He had had the two burliest footmen manoeuvre the heavy case down the stairs and position it in a secluded room where he could be sure no one would burst in accidentally. It was not hard to draw Miss Chamberlain aside and lead her there, and enjoy the anticipation of his coming triumph while she exclaimed over the twigs, and laughed at their sadly rotted nature. Nor could he discover why they had been deemed worthy of collecting in the first place. No wonder the whole lot had been consigned to the attic.
But eventually, it was time. “Miss Chamberlain, might I be permitted to close the door? For this is the perfect opportunity for me to speak to you in private on a matter which has been on my mind for some time now.”
“Of course, Lord Reginald. Shall I sit down?”
“Please do.” The door closed with a low clunk, and he joined her on the wide window seat. She lowered her gaze demurely, her cheeks suffused with a becoming flush. “Miss Chamberlain, you must be aware that my attentions to you have been beyond the call of common courtesy to a guest. From the first moment you entered this house, you drew my admiration and esteem. As I grew to know you better…”
He spoke well, even in his own eyes. He had always had a way with words, and knowing how to offer for a lady’s hand was just one of those gentlemanly accomplishments which he had effortlessly absorbed as he grew up. He had only had occasion to practise the speech twice, once fired by too much claret, an occasion best forgotten, and once driven more by a desire to put Carrbridge’s nose out of joint, it had to be confessed. Still, if Connie had accepted him then, he would have been delighted, and she had remained his ideal of womanhood in the years since. Until now. Now, he had found one to depose even Connie.
Sons of the Marquess Collection Page 8
