“If you are saying that you became engaged to him for your father's sake, then why did you break the engagement?” Peter's tone indicated that he did not believe her.
Although irritated by his incredulity, she answered him evenly. “There were many reasons for crying off, Peter. I was not particularly pleased with his abandoning his naval career, though I could understand the necessity. Mostly, though, in the end I terminated the engagement because I had reason to believe he had formed an attachment elsewhere and felt hampered by our arrangement."
“And is he engaged to someone else now?"
“I suppose so, though I have not been officially informed. He writes only of estate matters, and very briefly."
“You seem to take a deal of trouble with his estate.”
The accusatory tone snapped her resolve to be patient. “I am enjoying my commission here, Peter, and have every intention of fulfilling it as best I can. Would you have me sitting in lodgings in Hastings moping about all day? I had very little knowledge of the countryside when I came and am fascinated to be learning more each day."
“Perhaps you would not be comfortable living in London now,” he retorted.
Unwilling to come to grips with the significance of his remark when she was feeling exasperated with him, she turned away. Her eye was caught by a movement in the undergrowth of the copse and in a moment she had leaped down from the mare and trod lightly to the spot. “Oh, look, Peter, it's a tiny deer. I think he's wounded."
Her companion, who had begun to feel uneasy with their conversation, was willing to abandon it on any pretext and joined her where she was crouched by the spotted baby deer. “Looks like he's taken a ball in his leg."
“We'll take him to the stables and see to it."
“For God's sake, Glenna, how do you think we'd get him there?"
“I thought,” she said slowly, her eyes lifting to meet his, “that you could carry him, but if you do not wish to soil your clothes, I shall carry him myself."
Peter drew her to her feet and then leaned down to pick up the struggling deer without a word. They walked silently back to their horses, where Peter was faced with the problem of mounting handicapped by the bulky animal, who in its terror continually struck out with his tiny hoofs at various places on Peter's body. When Glenna could no longer restrain her amusement at the sight, she burst out laughing, and though his brow grew thunderous at first, in a moment he sheepishly joined in her mirth. The little creature grew still in the face of his hilarity and Peter laid him on the ground while he handed Glenna onto her horse. “Can you hold him for a moment while I mount?"
“It's the least I can do,” she murmured, her eyes still dancing, and accepted the now-quiescent animal in her arms.
Their journey to the stables was slow, but peace was restored between them and they spoke easily on indifferent subjects. Glenna was relieved to find that Peter was not devoid of a sense of humor after all, and the ability to laugh at himself. She had begun to fear that his years in the metropolis had made him rigid, a slave to the cult of fashion and a dilettante. Pontley's advice echoed in her mind, but she refused to credit him with the searching study she was making of her prospective suitor. After all, who took advice on matters of the heart from a man so smitten that he wrote of elfin charm and winsomeness? Glenna was well aware that the six years which separated her from her original infatuation were critical ones, and she had no intention of making up her mind until she was thoroughly familiar with this older Peter.
The advent of a deer into his stables did not discompose John Booker in the least. With an adeptness which impressed Glenna, he removed the ball and cleaned the wound. “I reckon he'll be right as rain in a few days, ma'am. Would you have me keep him here?"
“If it's not too inconvenient. I should not like to see him set free before he has the strength to fend for himself.” Glenna turned to Peter and smiled. “There, we have done our good deed for the day and deserve a scrumptious tea which I have no doubt Betsey will have ready.” She placed her hand on his arm and they returned companionably to the Hall where Phoebe met them at the door of the drawing room.
“Captain Andrews has come, Glenna, and I have invited him to tea. Caroline and Ralph were watching from the window for you and said you brought a deer to the stables.” Phoebe obviously did not credit this tale until she saw the disheveled state of Peter's clothing. He immediately excused himself to change.
“He's the most adorable thing, Phoebe. John took a ball from his leg and says he'll be fine in a few days."
An astonished look greeted this statement before Phoebe said, “Oh, the deer."
Glenna giggled. “Did you think I meant Peter, my dear? Well, he was adorable, too, standing there holding the little creature while it kicked him unmercifully. Let me change, Phoebe, and I'll be with you in a moment."
The group she joined did not include Mr. Westlake as yet, since his sartorial perfection was a matter of pride with him, and took some time to accomplish. Caroline and Ralph Carmichael, her friends from Bristol who had come to visit, were discussing sailing with the captain. Glenna greeted Captain Andrews with a warm smile, as she had not seen him since the day of their excursion to Dunster Castle.
“And have you set up your bees?” he quizzed her.
Guiltily she confessed that she had been too busy to do so, but reassured him that she had every intention of embarking on the project in the near future.
“I doubt it's the right time of year for bees, in any case,” he comforted her, with a laughing glance at Phoebe. “The flowers will not last more than another month."
Glenna considered this remark thoughtfully. “I should like to get started, though. Mrs. Morgan's brother has offered us whatever we need and I have Pontley's permission."
“Such as it was,” Phoebe laughed. “And not a book in the place on beekeeping,” she sighed.
“Pontley probably took all the really useful books with him,” Glenna retorted.
Captain Andrews agreed to dine with them, and Glenna played the harp for her small circle in the evening. She was aware that Peter was restless during her recital and remembered that, unlike Pontley, he showed no interest in her accomplishment. It was unfortunate but not oversetting, as she had other interests; still, she considered her performance her only skill and regretted that Peter should think it so negligible.
Chapter 8
Having been reminded of her purpose, Glenna proceeded the next day to acquire the bees.
Manner Hall
5 October 1804
Dear Lord Pontley: Glenna has asked that I write you, as she is unable to do so at this point. She wished to advise you that the water closet has been installed and the painting of the interior rooms will be started this week. Within the next two months she believes there will be sufficient funds to begin work on the kitchen, and hopes that you are still in agreement with this undertaking.
Glenna will not be keeping bees, as she has found that she is violently sensitive to bee sting. They cause her whole body to swell, and though the doctor has prescribed various medications, these seem to have no effect. He assures me that there is no cause for alarm.
Your most obedient servant,
Phoebe Thomas
Pontley arrived at Manner Hall a week later, tired, dirty and in a rather poor mood, as it had rained the greater part of his journey, which should have been wholly unnecessary in any case. He was met by Phoebe, who, astonished to see him drive up to the stables, hurried out to greet him.
“We had no idea you intended to visit, my lord. Have you come to see the progress of the work?” she asked anxiously.
“I have come,” he muttered darkly, “to speak with Miss Forbes. Has she recovered from her indisposition?"
“Well, not completely, but ... Oh, dear, my letter alarmed you, did it not? How careless of me to cause you anxiety. Glenna was most particular that I should say nothing which would cause you concern or to Ia—” Phoebe drew herself up abruptly.
&n
bsp; “Laugh at her? If I had had any desire to do so, the muddy roads, uncomfortable inn beds and inadequate meals on my journey would have entirely discouraged me, Miss Thomas. Where is she?"
“In her room, my lord."
He frowned. “She isn't able to get about yet?"
“The swelling has diminished somewhat and the doctor is hopeful that it will be no more than a few days now before she is perfectly restored.”
Phoebe caught her lower lip with even white teeth and asked beseechingly, “You will not need to see her, will you? I feel sure I can answer any of your questions about the renovations or ... or the household. Or Mr. Glover could—or Mrs. Morgan."
Pontley considered the matter gravely, then shook his head. “No, Miss Thomas, it will be necessary for me to see Miss Forbes."
“She—she really does not see anyone but me, my lord."
“I have never thought of bee sting as contagious, Miss Thomas. Tell her to expect me in half an hour, if you please. I should like to rid myself of my dirt."
As he turned away, Phoebe clasped at his arm.
With downcast eyes she murmured, “It would not be right for you to see her in her bedchamber, my lord."
“Then have her await me in the Winter Parlor."
“Oh won't you understand?” Phoebe cried exasperatedly. “Glenna is mortified to look so ... unlike herself."
Pontley patiently removed her hand from his arm. “It won't be the first time I have seen her ... how did you put it? ... unlike herself. The Winter Parlor, I think, ma'am.” He strode off before Phoebe could protest further, and she reluctantly made her way to her friend's room.
Glenna was alarmed by the distressed countenance Phoebe presented to her. “Whatever is the matter?"
“Lord Pontley has come. He wishes to see you in the Winter Parlor in half an hour,” she gasped.
“Well, you must tell him that I am indisposed."
“I tried to do so, Glenna, but he will have none of it."
Glenna pushed aside the account books on which she had been working, rose and went to examine herself in the glass. Her face was still puffy and her hair disheveled, as it was painful for her to brush it. “He has a most awkward habit of arriving when he is least wished for. Can you make me presentable, Phoebe?"
Her friend nodded, but her efforts, however careful, were painful to Glenna, who gently thanked her and begged that she desist. Instead she dug in her dressing table drawer for a cap of white lace which she ruthlessly tied over the red-gold curls. “That will have to do. I should not like to run into Peter again. Is he out?"
“Yes, until dinner, I believe. Glenna, he ... he was only startled and concerned when first he saw you so swollen."
“My dear girl, I do not blame him, but I cannot wish to repeat the experience,” she said dryly. “I consider it a wonder, after seeing his expression, that he did not pack his bags and depart within the hour."
“That's unfair, Glenna. He has been most solicitous of your welfare—you know you laugh at his notes—and he has entertained Caroline, Ralph and me in the evenings."
“Poor Peter. It cannot have been the sort of visit he had in mind. Hopefully it will be only a short while longer before I am recovered.” She picked up her account book and headed for the door.
“Do you want me to come with you?"
“No, thank you, love. I will not have Pontley think I am afraid to face him alone."
When Glenna arrived at the Winter Parlor she found her landlord leaning negligently against the window frame and she was forcefully reminded of their encounter at Lockwood. He turned to her immediately on this occasion and carefully studied the sight she presented. The swollen face and hands were the only parts of her body to be seen in her high-necked, long-sleeved gown, and the cap was totally inadequate to conceal the disordered locks. “It looks very painful, Miss Forbes."
“Truly it is not so bad as it appears, Lord Pontley. The doctor says my system is particularly slow in ridding itself of the effects, but that they should all be gone in a short time now."
“Please sit down.” He drew a chair forward for her.
“Have you come to scold me, sir?"
One corner of his mouth twisted ruefully. “Yes, I suppose that was my intention, Miss. Forbes, but when I find myself confronted by you looking like a rag doll someone has left out in the rain, I haven't the heart."
Glenna's eyes flared for a moment but the image he drew forth was so apposite that she could not help but grin. “You needn't restrain yourself on my account, Lord Pontley."
“Why can't you brush your hair?” he asked curiously.
“My scalp aches when I do. I had Phoebe attempt it, but even to present a tidy appearance to you I could not bear it."
“You should not have bothered.” There was a note of concern in his voice but he turned directly to other matters. “Miss Forbes, why is there a deer in the stables?"
“Ah, yes, the deer. Mr. Westlake and I found him wounded in the coppice and brought him home to be tended. Phoebe says he follows her around now."
“Who follows Miss Thomas? Westlake or the deer?"
“Both of them, I should imagine. Peter is feeling rather down since I have been stuck in my room."
“I am inclined to believe it is vanity and not indisposition which keeps you there,” he remarked, not unkindly.
“It is neither!” she returned sharply. “It distresses Peter to see me like this."
“Then send him on his way,” he suggested callously. “The dandies always have their priorities reversed."
Glenna regarded him coldly. “Peter is not a dandy, and I do not wish to discuss him further with you. I have brought the accounts for you to review."
He waved aside the book she offered him. “I may look at them later, but if you are up to it I should like you to take me to the kitchen so that I may see for myself what all the fuss is about."
“As you wish, of course.” She rose resolutely and allowed him to open the door for her, where they came face to face with Peter as he was returning from a ride. “I believe you have met Lord Pontley, Peter. He has been kind enough to come and observe the progress we are making on the renovations."
Peter bowed formally to Pontley but did not take his eyes from Glenna's face, which seemed to hold a horrid fascination for him. Pontley drew his attention by growling, “What the devil are you gawping at, Westlake?"
The younger man stiffened visibly. “Not a thing, I assure you, sir.” He turned pointedly to Glenna to ask, “Shall we have the pleasure of your company at dinner today, then?"
Glenna cast a confused glance at Pontley's frozen face and nodded. “I am much better now, Peter. If you will excuse me, I should like to show Lord Pontley the kitchen."
When Peter had passed on Glenna proceeded toward the kitchen without a glance at his lordship. Through clenched teeth she said, “I am aware that this is your house, sir, but I can see no reason for you to be rude to my guest."
“It was he who was rude, Miss Forbes. No lieutenant under my command would have been so graceless."
“Can you not forget you are no longer on a quarterdeck?” Her exasperation heightened her color, and blotches appeared on her swollen cheeks. Unfortunately she happened to catch sight of herself in a glass and would have fled but for his firm hand on her arm. The grip on her tender flesh made her wince with agony and tears sprang to her eyes, but she refused to allow them to escape. “You are hurting me,” she whispered in a strangled voice.
His hand was abruptly removed with an apologetic gesture. “Excuse me! I didn't think. Perhaps you should go back to your room. We can see the kitchen tomorrow."
They stood facing one another warily while Glenna recovered her equanimity. “No, I will be perfectly all right if you will refrain from touching me,” she said coldly at length, and proceeded to move down the passage. As she had intended, he felt at a distinct disadvantage, a clumsy oaf who had carelessly mauled a fragile woman. His swinging gait was no longer ham
pered by a limp, but he refrained from catching her up, sure that he would inadvertently trip her.
Glenna provided him with a thorough tour of the small, dark kitchen, indicating what equipment and supplies were needed, and she took him outside to show him the location of the proposed new bake house. “Have you any questions?"
“Why have you taken so much trouble to earn the money to renovate the kitchen?” He stood with his hands locked behind his back, for although it felt awkward it would prevent him from performing some clumsy movement which might pain her.
“I have just spent a half hour explaining that,” she responded irritably.
“You have told me why a tenant would desire such an improvement, but you have not made me understand why you have gone to such trouble."
“Oh, you sound like Peter. I did not accept your offer of a house as charity, my lord. You gave me a task to perform and I am attempting to do so to the best of my ability."
“Will you cease your wild schemes and plans if I authorize Glover to provide the funds for your kitchen?"
“It is not my kitchen, and Mr. Glover has been hard pressed to provide the funds he already has!” Glenna was tempted to turn her back on him and walk away, but she feared that he would forget and lay hold of her arm, so she remained rooted to the spot.
“There will be more funds with the harvest in."
“And he shall need them to purchase farm equipment! I will admit that the keeping of bees did not prove felicitous, Lord Pontley, but most of my other endeavors have turned out very well indeed, as you would see if you would bother to look at my account books.” This time she did turn from him and watched horrified as he stopped his hand in mid-air from touching her. “I am not one of your sailors to be bullied and pushed around, Pontley. Even if I were not swollen from head to toe I would take objection to your continual efforts to detain me. I wonder that I did not notice it before we became engaged, for had I done, I vow I would not have agreed."
The Nomad Harp Page 7
