His jaw tightened. ‘I got a beating for my pains.’
Having spent time in the proximity of her late father-in-law, she recognised the words for understatement. Being around the brute was like walking on eggshells. The least thing could trigger his temper, never mind a direct confrontation. That Anthony should have instigated one was certainly courageous, even admirable, albeit misguided.
‘I’m sorry to hear it,’ she said, ‘though I’m not in the least surprised.’
‘I used to think that I was the cause of most of his ill-
humour, that if I was out of the way his temper might improve.’
‘No, it merely found another target.’
‘I swear I had no idea.’ He paused. ‘While I knew that my parents’ marriage was unhappy, it was characterised by coldness, not violence.’
‘I think by the end that your father was...unbalanced.’
‘His behaviour was always unbalanced.’
‘Yet, knowing that, you left me at Ulverdale, the very place you could not wait escape.’
‘It was very wrong of me.’ He sighed. ‘Perhaps it’s time to return and confront the demons.’
‘You know nothing of my demons, Anthony. Do not presume to tell me how to deal with them.’
‘You cannot run away from them.’
‘You did.’
His jaw tightened. ‘I am not proud of it.’
‘I am. Leaving there I count as one of great achievements of my life.’
‘It was not the fault of the place.’
‘The Bastille can’t help being a fortress, but that doesn’t make it a desirable place to be.’
‘Then since you feel so strongly, I withdraw my suggestion about your coming.’
They lapsed into tense silence for a while. Then she took a deep breath. ‘I am thinking of returning to London next month.’
‘By all means; we can go whenever you wish.’
We. Claudia lowered her gaze, avoiding his, conscious of increasing annoyance. She controlled it. After all, what had she expected? That he would permit her to return to London alone? That her old life would resume as normal? There was no chance of that now. Anthony’s presence was all too real and he wasn’t going to go away. The best that she could hope for was some sort of modus vivendi that would facilitate a peaceful co-existence. They had lived separate lives before, they could do so again.
‘As you wish.’ She rose from the table. ‘And now if you will excuse me, I am feeling rather tired. I shall retire early.’
The Earl rose too, surveying her steadily. ‘Goodnight then, Claudia.’
He watched her walk away and then resumed his seat with a sigh, mentally cursing his tactlessness. Each time he thought he was making progress he would suddenly find himself two steps back. It had been a mistake to mention Ulverdale, but then he could never have guessed at the depth of her antipathy for the place. It was quite evident that she thought of it as a prison. To have insisted on her accompanying him would only have alienated her further. The significance of her wish to return to London hadn’t escaped him either. Apart from the numerous distractions on offer, it afforded the possibility of seeing less of him. He finished the rest of his wine. Why would she not wish to see less of him? She was trapped in marriage with a man she didn’t love and whose motives for keeping her were questionable. Yet there had been a spark between them. He had not imagined it. The memory lingered and he clung to it, unable to help himself. If it could only be rekindled...He sighed. The way things were at present such a hope seemed forlorn.
Chapter Eight
The clock on the mantel showed that it lacked a few minutes till seven. Claudia slid out of bed and went to the closet, rummaging for her favourite riding clothes. Having located them she began to dress. It was quite quickly accomplished, leaving her only to tie back her hair with a ribbon. She paused briefly to glance in the cheval glass. A slim figure in boyish clothes stared back. In London she could never have enjoyed such freedom, but here, in the privacy of the park, it was possible to do as she pleased.
As a precaution she used the back stairs on her way out. There was little risk of running into Anthony; likely it would be hours yet before he made an appearance, and by the time he did she would look the epitome of respectability again. Meanwhile, she meant to enjoy herself.
Hurrying along the side path she turned the corner and headed for the stables, reaching her destination a few minutes later. As she did so, the head groom emerged from the stable building.
Seeing her approach he smiled, touching his cap in acknowledgement. ‘Good morning, my lady. Shall I saddle Spirit for you?’
She returned the smile. ‘Thank you, Jenkins.’
‘Do you wish to be accompanied today?’
‘No, I’ll be staying in the park so I’ll ride alone.’
‘Very good, my lady.’
Five minutes later he led Spirit from the stable. The chestnut mare whinnied, her ears pricking when she saw Claudia. Jenkins grinned, watching as his mistress stroked the horse’s velvety muzzle. Then he held the stirrup while she mounted, waiting till she was comfortably settled in the saddle before letting go of the bridle. Claudia thanked him and then, touching the mare with her heels, set off.
It had rained overnight, but the clouds had moved on leaving pale sunlight and translucent blue skies. She smiled to herself. In spite of everything, it felt good to be alive on such a morning. It also felt good to have some time to herself to enjoy at least the illusion of freedom.
She held the mare to a walk along the tree-lined track, but when they reached the open ground beyond, let her out to a canter. The faster pace felt good, like the feel of the wind in her hair and the cool air on her cheeks. The horse seemed to sense her enjoyment and to share it, her small neat hooves flying over the turf. Feeling her champ the bit, Claudia leaned forward.
‘Go, Spirit. The pace will suit me well.’
With that she gave the horse its head and the canter accelerated into an exhilarating gallop.
* * *
When Matthew had finished shaving him, the Earl rose from the chair and finished drying his face on the towel. A cursory glance from the window stopped him in his tracks and, involuntarily, he followed the progress of the galloping horse. An elegant creature, it was finely made with a look of the Arabian breed, an impression borne out by its evident swiftness. He had no need to ask the identity of the rider. Nor was there any doubt of her skill. He might have guessed that Claudia would be a competent horsewoman. Knowing her as he did by this time, it should have come as no surprise that she should flout convention by riding astride or failing to take a groom with her. It was all of a piece with the rest of her behaviour. He did not imagine it was done on purpose to annoy him; the early hour suggested that her intention had been just the opposite; that she sought not to draw his attention at all. However, it did annoy him, particularly in the light of their recent conversation, and they were going to have to discuss the matter.
* * *
Claudia reined the horse in at the top of the slope and let her breathe for a minute before continuing at a gentler pace. As she rode she looked around, enjoying the peace and beauty of the new day. The rain had left water droplets on every twig and blade of grass so that they sparkled in the strengthening light. In the distance a patch of sea, gun-metal grey, was visible through a declivity in the wooded slope. As she looked, a movement caught her eye and she discerned a figure on the edge of the trees. It was a man but he was too far away to make out details, although he did seem to be looking her way. Perhaps he’d just noticed her too. Then he turned and, moments later, was lost to view in the wood. Claudia frowned. His behaviour seemed furtive somehow which argued the poacher. She would mention the matter to the land agent when next they met.
* * *
She retur
ned from her ride feeling thoroughly invigorated by the exercise and fresh air. Giving Spirit a final pat she handed the reins to the waiting groom. Then she hurried back to the house.
When she emerged from her room half an hour later all trace of the hoyden was gone, and she was respectably dressed in a sprigged muslin frock with her hair neatly arranged. She went downstairs. The breakfast parlour was empty so she assumed that Anthony hadn’t come down yet. After all, it was still early. Claudia relaxed a little. Helping herself to ham and eggs she turned her mind to the household tasks awaiting her attention. It was also time to take a look at the accounts. She liked to think that all the servants were trustworthy, but suspected that, in part, it was because they knew she kept an eye on expenditure.
Her mind was still engaged with the thought as she headed for the salon after breakfast. She was through the door before she realised that she was not alone and involuntarily stopped in her tracks.
Hearing her come in, the Earl looked up from the paper he had been reading and got to his feet.
‘Good morning.’
Recovering her self-possession she returned the greeting. ‘I beg your pardon. I didn’t mean to intrude.’
‘You’re not intruding. As a matter of fact I’ve been waiting to speak with you.’
Something about his expression caused an uneasy fluttering sensation in her stomach. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘Did we not have a conversation recently about the need for sensible caution?’
‘Well, yes, but...’
‘Yet you rode out unaccompanied today.’
‘I...it was only in the park.’
‘Do you imagine that such distinctions will carry any weight with those who might wish you ill?’
Feeling uncomfortably on the back foot now, she reddened a little. ‘No, I suppose not. I didn’t think.’
‘No, you didn’t think. You laid yourself wide open to possible danger.’
‘It wasn’t intentional. It’s just that I always ride alone if I’m going to stay in the park.’
‘Not any more. In future you’ll take a groom with you.’
She bit back the immediate reply that came to mind, knowing that it would only exacerbate the situation. Moreover, she knew that he was right; it had been foolish and she had been unthinking. Her annoyance turned inward.
Anthony took a step closer filling her line of vision. ‘Am I making myself clear?’
‘Perfectly clear. It won’t happen again.’
‘See that it doesn’t.’
Unable to bear the weight of that fierce scrutiny she looked away. ‘It was foolish. I’m sorry.’
Some of the tension went out of him. ‘All right, we’ll say no more about it.’
It was then she remembered the man she had seen earlier at the edge of the wood. However, to mention that now would only make things worse. It would keep for later. The silence stretched out a little longer.
‘Was there anything else?’ she asked.
‘No, nothing else. Now if you’ll excuse me, there are things I have to do.’
With that he left her. Claudia let out a long breath. No question but he was still very annoyed. The fact that his anger was justified did nothing for her peace of mind. No doubt he thought her a heedless little fool. She had always prided herself on professionalism where her work was concerned, and it was galling that, twice now, she’d given him cause to doubt it. Just why his opinion should matter was unclear, but she knew it did and she was resolved not to be careless again. It occurred to her then that he hadn’t made any comment at all about her choice of riding clothes.
* * *
When he left Claudia the Earl headed for the stables himself, wanting to distance himself from the house for a while. Some fresh air would clear his head and that would be no bad thing either. It wasn’t easy to maintain a cold and forbidding manner in his wife’s presence, but he’d wanted to leave her in no doubt as to his mind. Her safety was paramount and it depended in part on her co-operation. Playing the repressive husband was no part of his plan, but nor could he allow her to think everything could go on as it had before. His talk with Genet had made that clear.
* * *
Claudia spent an hour on the household accounts, or, more precisely, staring unseeing at rows of figures. No matter how hard she tried, all that she could think of was her interview with Anthony. The recollection of his anger only enhanced her guilt. In the end she gave up on income and expenditure, and shut the book. It was a fine day and a walk would clear her head.
The steps from the terrace adjoined a path which ran alongside the lawn for a little way, leading thence through an archway in the yew hedge and coming at length to the edge of a broad grassy walk. At its end, some two hundred yards off, was a stand of mature trees. Claudia turned towards them, coming to the fringes of the grove a few minutes later. In the midst was a clearing where stood a small circular temple built in the classical Greek style. Open at the sides, its supporting pillars and upper stonework were darkened with rainwater and greened with moss. In the centre of the marbled floor beneath the dome was a plinth adorned with a semi-nude statue of the goddess Aphrodite. It stood only two feet high but the workmanship was exquisite. Claudia found herself drawn back to it repeatedly. She had no idea of its origin or how long it might have been there. It looked very old so perhaps it had been installed by whoever had built the house. She had no idea who that might have been. According to family legend the first Earl of Ulverdale had won the property from a rival at the gaming tables during the reign of Charles the Second, a tale she had little difficulty in believing. Whatever the truth of the matter she enjoyed coming here.
The temple was pleasant, conducive to quiet thought and the contemplation of art. Slowly she moved round the plinth, regarding the figure from every angle. It was as though the sculptor had captured a moment of intimacy, a woman disrobing to bathe perhaps, and translated movement into stone. Its simplicity was beautiful and arresting.
‘I wonder who the sculptor was thinking of when he created that.’
The voice broke into her reverie and her heart leapt towards her throat. She turned quickly to see Anthony standing on the threshold. His horse was tethered to a bush some few yards off. The damp turf had prevented her hearing either of them approaching. She turned back to the statue again, mentally trying to compose herself, aware of booted feet crossing the marble floor behind her.
‘Perhaps there was no particular person, only an idealised image in his mind,’ she replied.
He came to stand beside her. ‘Perhaps.’
‘You doubt it?’
‘She is so beautifully rendered and yet more lifelike than most classical statuary. This seems to me to be more like a tribute, as though a lovely woman were immortalised in stone.’
Claudia glanced up in surprise. She had never heard him speak in that way before, or in quite that contemplative tone. ‘Do you know anything of her history?’
‘Very little. Apparently my grandfather acquired the piece in Italy while on the Grand Tour. He claimed that it was a Bernini.’ He smiled ruefully. ‘I suspect it was wishful thinking; the old man was renowned for telling some tall tales.’
‘And yet the Italian ladies are accounted very beautiful, are they not? Perhaps the sculptor had a secret lover who provided the inspiration for this.’
‘It’s a wonderfully romantic notion, isn’t it?’
‘There are precedents for such a muse,’ she replied.
‘Petrarch and Laura; Dante and Beatrice...’
‘Bernini and Aphrodite?’
It was said deadpan, but then his gaze met hers and she caught the gleam in his eye and, unexpectedly, they both laughed. And then, gradually, laughter faded a little and was replaced by something much quieter and infinitely more intense. Her heartbeat quickened and
she lowered her eyes in confusion, aware of him to the last particle of her being. Aware too that the place was some distance from the house and they were quite alone; aware of a danger that she could no longer name but recognising that its origins lay in her.
He drew closer. ‘What are you afraid of, Claudia?’
‘Nothing.’
‘No?’ His hands rested lightly on her shoulders, their touch warm through her clothing. ‘Then why are you trembling?’
There were many answers to that, chiefly concerned with his nearness now and the sensations it gave rise to; sensations she ought not to be feeling. Instead she sought safety in prevarication. ‘I...it’s a little cooler out here than I thought.’
A hand closed gently over hers and, feeling the temperature of her flesh, he frowned. ‘You are cold, aren’t you?’
‘I thought a shawl would be warm enough. I’ll go back now.’
He released his hold. ‘In that case I’ll walk back with you. Just let me fetch my horse.’
Drawing a deep breath, she watched him stride away, still feeling the warm imprint of his hands on her skin. She saw him retrieve the reins. Then, leading the animal towards her, he fell into step alongside. They walked in silence which offered a kind of refuge and which neither one made any effort to break.
Chapter Nine
In the course of the next week life settled into a quiet routine, on the surface of things anyway. Although there had been no more arguments, Claudia began to feel restless. In spite of keeping herself occupied each day, the familiar round of tasks offered no challenge. More than ever she missed the autonomy of her old life. More than that, she missed the adventure and the sense of doing something worthwhile. She had made a promise to Henry. Now, Napoleon was raising an army, all of Europe was in ferment and she was cooped up here, trapped in a loveless marriage with a man who would never let her go.
Realising how perilously near to self-pity she was allowing herself to become, her annoyance turned inwards. She needed to shake herself out of this and soon. A good walk would have helped to lighten her mood, but it had been raining all morning. Instead she went to the salon and ensconced herself in an armchair with a copy of Camilla.
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