“If you persist he might come to realise you mean it. If not, there are other ways.”
When we reached my room, I left the door open while I fetched a clean handkerchief. “Is your room like this, my lord?” I said, from where I stood by the chest of drawers.
He glanced inside, taking in the lack of drapery and ornament in one swift perusal. “Very much so. But our group of rooms was more hastily cleaned. I’ve set my man to improve matters. I live in hopes that Carier may be able to make them habitable.”
A sharp clatter on the ceiling made me crouch down, afraid the ceiling was about to fall on my head. When I looked up again, Lord Strang stood next to me. I hadn’t heard him move.
“I beg your pardon for startling you. I’m afraid this house will fall apart if it’s left like this much longer.”
I smelled his scent now he stood close to me. I felt his humanity, jarring something inside me and his warmth when he held my hand to help me to my feet. It shook me, in a way I could not explain. Before this incident I could regard him and, to a lesser extent, his brother, as interesting people to study, people we wouldn’t meet again after our few days in this house. Now he became human, and his presence jolted me in an uncomfortable way.
We left the bedroom and I waited while he took snuff; a procedure worth watching. It must have taken him a long time to perfect it, and then by another miracle he made it look natural. He used one hand to flick the box open. Taking a tiny amount of snuff, he applied it to his right nostril with one hand, while snapping the box shut and returning it to his pocket with the other. All the while he showed off his long, beautiful fingers to their greatest advantage. Such a simple gesture, done with such finesse. He met my eyes, smiling, before holding out his arm for me. I felt the hard muscle beneath the satin sleeve of his green coat when I put my fingers on it. I could no longer ignore the man beneath the glossy exterior.
He took me downstairs to a small drawing room. At the door, he released me with a smile at Lizzie’s side, and then moved off to join his betrothed. Lizzie nudged me. “You sly thing.”
I blushed. “It wasn’t like that.” She wore her fine gown. Poor Lizzie, I thought. There should be a house party here for her to show off to.
Dinner was dismal. The food was cold, the company depressed under the influence of Lord Hareton, his wife and his brother. I kept my head down, still ashamed of the compromising situation in which the Kerre brothers had discovered me. Even Lizzie failed to sparkle. I went up to my room as soon as I could and read a book until bedtime.
Despite my fatigue, I couldn’t sleep that night. The blankets on my bed were thin and few in number. Although I put my heavy travelling cloak on top, it made little difference to the chill filling my bones. I tossed and turned for an hour or more. Just as I was about to give up and get up, my door opened.
Sitting up quickly, I stifled a scream, immediately aware of the strangeness of my surroundings and my own vulnerability within them. My trembling fingers felt for the tinderbox on the nightstand.
“Rose, I can’t sleep.”
Steadying my hand, I struck a light. “Come in then,” I said to my sister. “And bring your bedding with you.” While she fetched them, I recovered from my shock. I didn’t like this house. The sooner we went home, the better.
We enjoyed the plenteous expanse of the generously proportioned bed, and with Lizzie’s blankets, we had a much more comfortable night.
When we woke in the morning, I got up with her. I saw the speculative looks she had cast at Mr. Kerre the day before and didn’t want her to be alone with him. I was afraid my flirtatious, innocent sister might tumble into trouble with these worldly wise guests. She needed my company.
The fire hadn’t been laid or lit, so we shivered in the chilly rooms. It might be colder indoors than out, with the damp from a long-unheated house and the roof most likely in a state of disrepair, letting in the rain. Our rooms faced away from the sun in the morning, which made matters worse. We found the garments that were easiest to get into—yesterday’s riding habits. Shivering in our underwear we managed to climb into the warm woollen cloth, and tied each other’s laces and tapes at the back as quickly as we could.
Hurrying downstairs, we tried to find somewhere warm. We checked a couple of rooms and found their fireplaces as bare as the ones in our rooms.
Eventually, in the small parlour, we found fresh bread and cheese laid out on a table. Used plates were stacked upon a sideboard, while clean ones stood on the food table. The evidence showed someone had been here before us. We helped ourselves to the food and a nearby pitcher of water. There was no chocolate or tea, nothing to warm us.
We ate in silence; both overwhelmed by the silence of the Abbey and the oppressive atmosphere it engendered. However, we left the room a little more satisfied in body. Then we had to find a way out, since we were determined not to stay in this gloomy, dank house a moment more than we had to.
We doubted the Great Hall would be open at this time of day and decided to try to find a side door. It took some time. We traversed up and down several narrow corridors, but eventually we found a door to the outside world, and luckily for us, it was unlocked. We hurried blissfully outside, as though we escaped from a prison.
This side of the house was relatively well kept, the path clear and not pitted like the main drive. After we took a few deep breaths of the clean, autumn air, we decided to discover where it led, perhaps to the stables.
Rounding a corner, we nearly collided with Mr. Kerre. Flustered, I smiled politely. My society manners had never been what they should be—at least that’s what Lizzie had always told me, though I found they served well enough.
He smiled in a friendly manner. “I thought I might take a morning ride.”
“You must have been up early.” Everyone knew about, or thought they did, the late hours kept by members of polite society. I presumed the Kerre brothers didn’t get up much before noon.
“I’m not used to sleeping in. Besides, there isn’t much rest to be had on a lumpy bed.”
We joined in his good natured laughter. “Lord Hareton told me he has been up since five,” Mr. Kerre continued. “He says he rises to pray for guidance throughout the night if he cannot sleep.”
We took the information with complete gravity, in the same way Mr. Kerre delivered it. After all, a man was entitled to his beliefs. “I don’t think I’ve ever been awake at five,” Lizzie said.
Mr. Kerre smiled. “Oh, I have, but recently it’s been from the other end and I’ve been retiring, not rising. The few times I’ve risen at that time have been for a journey, not for prayer.”
“Are such hours frequently kept in London, sir?” Lizzie was ever eager to be in the know. “We are to go next Season, you know, to visit our Aunt Godolphin.” Knowing such exalted people might give her the entrée she needed next year. Aunt Godolphin never made any bones about informing us that we would be unlikely to obtain access to the ton if we stayed with her, although her contacts were most respectable, and we could expect to enjoy ourselves and perhaps make a few useful connections. But with the acquaintance of one of the privileged few, our chances went up.
Lizzie’s eager innocence seemed to amuse him. “Such hours are regularly kept by some people. I can’t say I know your aunt, but, of course, I’ve been away a very long time.” That was a kind thing to say.
We turned and began to walk along the path toward the stables together. It seemed the only way we could go, apart from back to the house, as weeds and overgrown plants tangled every other path. This abandonment seemed malicious, as though something more than financial ruin had caused this desolation.
It was blessedly easy to talk to Mr. Kerre. His manners were not in the least condescending. “You went to India, I believe, sir,” I said.
He smiled. His stern features softened, and at once underwent a change that persuaded me that I could talk to him without fear of ridicule. I imagined that he never ignored the more unfortunate girls at publ
ic gatherings. “It wasn’t exactly voluntary, but I came out of it better than I deserved.”
We hadn’t expected him to be this frank. I found it refreshing, but from the look on her face, Lizzie found it disconcerting. “I think you’re past all that now, sir,” I said.
“Just so,” he agreed cheerfully.
The stables were in much better repair than the main house, arranged in a U-shape around a central yard. There in the yard stood a large bay stallion, saddled and ready. The groom at his head struggled to control the animal, which appeared full of oats and eager for some exercise. Mr. Kerre looked at the beast with satisfaction. “I planned to go into the village to find some breakfast. Richard’s already gone with Lord Hareton and his brother on their mission to collect their prophet.” He grinned. “But I think a good breakfast was more of an enticement than the opportunity to meet the fabled minister.” Much of Lord Hareton’s conversation the previous evening had been of this man, who obviously inspired his lordship to adopt his present way of life. Would you ladies care to accompany me?”
I shook my head. “I’m afraid we didn’t bring any horses.” I would have loved to ride out. At home, I often did so, in the morning.
“That’s no problem. Miss Cartwright and her aunt sent their hacks ahead with our mounts. If you feel you could give them some exercise while you’re here, they would greatly appreciate it. My brother’s intended doesn’t spend much time on horseback, although she likes to travel in state.” His comments made it clear what he thought of the beauteous Miss Cartwright. And horses needed exercise.
I opened my mouth to refuse but Lizzie forestalled me. “That’s very kind, sir. It would be a pleasure.”
Bloodstock was expensive and clumsy riders could ruin a good horse. However, since Lizzie had accepted with such alacrity I had to accept too, and thanked him. The propriety of such an action troubled me, too. Before I could think it through, Mr. Kerre turned and gave the groom an order. The man went off to prepare the horses.
“I’m told the village is only four miles away, and boasts a comfortable hostelry,” Mr. Kerre said. “I’m not sure we can expect much here, and I need sustenance, especially in the mornings. The others have quite a head start on us. They set off nearly an hour ago.”
“I didn’t think Lord Strang would keep such early hours,” Lizzie said lightly. It was a forward comment, but Mr. Kerre didn’t seem to mind.
“He’s a law unto himself. He has few habits, changing from day to day. Indeed, I hardly recognised him when I returned from abroad, he’d changed so much. Besides, he had a poor night of it last night. He said he’d ordered every stitch of bedding he had brought with him put on the bed. Even then, he couldn’t sleep, so he gave up and got up.”
“We doubled up,” Lizzie confessed. “The bed was large enough, but the bedding too thin.”
Mr. Kerre smiled again. “I wish we’d thought of that.” I found it difficult to imagine the haughty viscount sharing his bed with anyone except, perhaps, Miss Cartwright after they wed. Then, they would be at either side of a very large, grand bed. I couldn’t imagine him with his brother in the same fashion as Lizzie and I had scrambled our bedding together last night.
In a remarkably short time, the groom had found the two horses and tacked them up with ladies’ side-saddles.
“The groom is very efficient,” I remarked. “More than I expected of this place.”
“He’s my brother’s groom. We brought him with us.” Mr. Kerre called to the man, “Did you sleep well, Bennett?”
“No indeed, sir,” the man called back. He didn’t seem to care who overheard. “It’s very draughty, up by the roof in the main house. I’ll try to find somewhere nearer to the stables, I think.”
Mr. Kerre nodded to Bennett and helped us mount the horses, which were very well kept animals. The side-saddles must belong to the Kerre party too, as they were of good quality and not at all worn. I thought sadly of my well-used gear left at home, waiting for me to save enough from my pin money to replace it.
“We owe you our thanks for the loan of the horses and saddles,” I said, when I’d settled my mount.
Mr. Kerre, now also mounted, held his huge animal’s reins with wrists of steel. “Not at all, ma’am. They need the exercise, and I can see you’re well accustomed to riding.”
My horse was a well-behaved animal with a springy step, indicating good feeding and care. I loved to ride, relishing the freedom it gave me.
We followed the path out of the stables that led away from the house, heading for the gates and the outside road. Concentration was needed to avoid overhanging branches and avoid the occasional pothole. When we reached the gates, we turned on to the main road outside with some relief, as even this was in better condition than those within the estate. We could ride abreast and converse, something we had been unable to do on the narrow, rutted path inside the Abbey grounds.
Lizzie began with an easy gambit. “Is India so very hot?”
“Indeed it is,” Mr. Kerre replied. I mentally castigated my sister for an idiot, for asking such a stupid question, but he didn’t seem to mind. “It’s hot enough to kill many Europeans. I saw many diseases caused by the heat out there. It is, however, a country of many changing scenes and very beautiful, indeed.”
“Why did you leave it, then, sir?” I knew what Lizzie meant: wasn’t it time he came home and found himself a wife?
“I thought I should come back and make my peace, and I think India had finished with me. My last venture was none too successful. Once I made myself a competence, the challenge went out of it.”
His description of this country genuinely interested me, besides the differences between India and England. “Where did you stay, sir?”
“Calcutta, mostly. It’s in the north, but still very hot.” He looked into the distance, as though thinking of that hot country, and all the colour he had left behind, only to return to this pale day, in this bleak part of the world.
I almost forgot my manners, strangely, at ease with this man. “When did you leave, sir?”
“Last year.” He didn’t look at me. As he swayed easily with his horse’s walk, he continued, “I’d done enough.”
“There has been trouble there recently, but anything I know about it I read in the newspapers. I really know very little of India.”
“Very interesting it proved to be.” He glanced at me, and gave me one of his easy smiles. “I arrived in ‘46, just as the French captured Madras. They returned it in ‘48, but they’re still jockeying for position out there. There are riches enough for everyone, for an enterprising person, but governments think otherwise. Still, I have every trust in Robert Clive, who seems to have the situation in control for the Company.”
Such conversation fascinated me, but I heard so little of it back home. Devonshire people were more concerned with local matters. “Is Mr. Clive a great man?”
“I couldn’t say for sure, ma’am. I’ve not met him above half a dozen times, but he seems to be the right man in the right place.”
“Will you go back?” Lizzie asked.
He didn’t answer immediately, but controlled his horse. The great animal fretted for a gallop, shifting restlessly. Mr. Kerre seemed to find the stallion easy to control. “I don’t think so. India is for young, ambitious men. The climate is unhealthy for the English, and every day is a gamble, with health and with the financial ventures. I left while I was still winning.”
These enquiries satisfied Lizzie for the present. Lord Strang’s betrothal put him out of the picture, so his brother was the only eligible male in the party. If I knew my sister, she would try to make the most of it. His manners were so unaffected that he put me at my ease as few other men outside my own family had. I liked him, his easy manner, and his lack of condescension, but bitter experience had showed me that men looked on me as a friend, and a way to approach the delectable Elizabeth.
Lizzie shifted slightly in her saddle, to show the shape of her body under the rid
ing habit. This trick had brought previous swains to their knees, but she had merely practiced on them, ready for our all-important visit to London. I had an inkling she would now try her well-practiced arts in earnest.
“The colours in India are most remarkable and the architecture is unlike anything you have ever seen before—” Mr. Kerre began, but cut short when he saw something in the road ahead. We were too far away to distinguish it completely, but we could see a coach, and a coach in trouble.
“Your parents—” I began in alarm, but he interrupted me.
“No, they aren’t planning to arrive until we send word. This must be Hareton’s coach—my God, Richard!” His voice rose with the realisation, and he spurred his horse forward. Lizzie and I kicked up our mounts and followed as fast as we could behind him.
Chapter Three
The vehicle lay on its side at the edge of the road, like a great dead beetle, the tracks of its sideways slide easily visible in the crushed grass and weeds. If it had travelled any further it would have plunged into the ditch. The noise of our horses’ hooves masked any sound from the coach, but when we pulled up, we heard someone bellowing inside the vehicle. This came as a relief; it indicated at least one of the inhabitants still lived. The two horses that had pulled the coach stood quietly by the roadside, cropping grass, their traces severed. The coachman must have released them first; a sensible move, as otherwise they could have kicked and bucked, causing further damage.
The coachman lay on his stomach; flat on the top that had been until recently the side of the vehicle, with the door flung open and his hand inside. “You’re too strong for me, sir. Please don’t move so much. There are people beneath you.”
Mr. Kerre dismounted quickly, flinging his horse’s reins over a nearby branch. I did the same, while Lizzie stayed on her horse. “How far is the village?” she shouted.
The coachman looked up. “Oh, miss, am I glad to see you! The village? It can’t be above a mile or two.” He pointed down the road.
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