I searched his desk and, finding paper, pen, and ink, set myself to the task of composing a suitable note. How to begin? I could scarcely write: My Dearest Leslie, or any similar form of address. Though I searched my memory, I knew there was no protocol in such a case. Sir Leslie was too formal and Leslie still seemed to intimate. The use of my husband could only serve to remind him he was shackled to me. At last I settled upon a letter that did not please me, but would, nonetheless, serve the purpose.
Leslie,
No doubt you believe me to be unspeakably rude and unthinking. I cannot say you are without justification. My behaviour this afternoon was unpardonable. You believed me to have been told falsehoods. I have not even that excuse, for your servants are too loyal to speak other than with complete fairness of you. I knew that in the matter of Jane you were in no way at fault. I should not have spoken of it when I could not help but know it would be distasteful to you.
In the future I shall endeavour to curb my tongue, but I fear I shall not always be successful. I pray that on this occasion you will accept my apology.
Heather
Nervously, I surveyed what I had written. It would have to suffice. How to deliver it? If I summoned a servant, the entire household would know by nightfall. I must place it either in Leslie’s or his valet’s hands myself. I folded it carefully, determined not to delay the matter.
I knocked hesitantly, twice, before his chamber door opened. “Yes, my lady?” Peter asked coldly but respectfully.
I held out my note, “I do not wish to disturb Sir Leslie, but pray give him this as soon as it is convenient to do so.”
“My lady,” he said, taking the note, “if I may say so, Sir Leslie is sadly out of curl at the moment. If this will disturb him further—”
I brought Peter up short. “It should not. It may even improve matters.”
“Very well, my lady,” he said dubiously, “do you expect an answer?”
“No,” I turned to withdraw, then paused to say, “Thank you, Peter.”
The valet bowed and closed the door. I imagined him approaching Leslie with the note, in trepidation. Or perhaps he would read it first. Certainly he was in Leslie’s confidence. I only hoped he was as discreet as Leslie believed him to be. I was debating whether I might have time for a walk before tea when Mrs. Morgan encountered me in the hallway. “My lady,” she said, “will ye have tea in yer chamber this afternoon? As the others are?”
She seemed distressed so I replied soothingly, “It means extra work, doesn’t it? Separate pots of tea and all. Well, you needn’t bother with mine. I shall not take tea today.”
“Not take tea?” she exclaimed.
“No, I am going for a walk,” I said and departed, leaving her staring after me.
I walked directly to the copse of trees, for sitting by the stream always soothed me. And within the copse I could not be seen from the castle and thus no one could come to call me back. I had come to love the estate, and in different circumstances might have been happy here. As matters stood, the serenity of the fields and woods kept me from complete despair.
It was late when I retraced my steps to the castle, and I was fortified with the resolution to behave more reasonably in the future. I went immediately to my chamber in order to dress for dinner. To my surprise, a spray of roses sat in a bowl on the table beside my bed. “What? How?” I exclaimed.
Ellen was as mystified as I. “I don’t quite know, my lady. Peter, Sir Leslie’s valet, brought them. Said they were the first from the garden. The master’s orders. But why, I wouldn’t know, my lady.”
I smiled. “The blue gown, this evening,” I merely said. “I would not have Lady Mary believe me to still be a green schoolgirl.”
By the time I reached the drawing room, Mary was already there. “You look lovely,” she said as she greeted me.
“Thank you and good evening,” I replied. “Did you rest well after your journey?”
“Yes, but—Good evening, Leslie,” she broke off.
I turned to see my husband standing in the doorway. As he greeted us my eyes met his for a moment and he smiled. I glanced away hastily. I had apologised for my rude behaviour but I did not wish Sir Leslie to believe I meant more than that. In the next moment, to my relief, Philip joined us. “Good evening everyone. I’m not late, am I?” he asked.
A measure of Leslie’s improved mood was that he answered affably, “Not at all, Philip.”
Philip stared at him in surprise. We were, however, somewhat late, so I placed my hand on Leslie’s arm and said, “Shall we go in to table?”
Aware of Leslie’s eyes on me, I stared at the floor. Neither of us spoke; neither of us referred to the afternoon or my subsequent note. When, after we were seated, I dared glance at him, Sir Leslie was no longer staring at me and I relaxed. Philip, enjoying the favourable mood, regaled us with stories of university life.
“But when do you have time for your studies?” I asked at one point.
“Oh, no one studies. One goes to the university to learn about life. One cannot get that from books!” Philip shrugged.
Leslie raised an eyebrow but said nothing. Mary shook her head but smiled. I was not satisfied with the answer, but instead of persisting, I asked, “Which university are you at, Philip? You’ve not said.”
Philip shifted uncomfortably and Leslie and Mary looked uneasy. “Well, my dear, actually...” Mary began.
“Philip is rusticating at the moment,” Leslie said abruptly. “He was sent down from Oxford last week.”
“And I suppose you never kicked up a lark when you were there!” Philip retorted.
Leslie chuckled, “Ah, but I was never caught.” After a moment, he continued, “I remember once we managed to bar the dean into his office just before he was due to give an important speech. We would certainly have been sent down if the fellow had only known who we were.”
Mary began to laugh. “Leslie! You never told us! But I remember the incident because Father was visiting me and he had heard of it. Though I am quite sure he had no notion you had been involved. He gave quite a sermon on responsibility and the lack of it among university students. Indeed he said he was happy to know his son would never do anything of the sort!”
Philip grinned. “It is still talked of at Oxford. It seems the dean was so overset that, immediately he was released, he appeared with his wig askew. What else did you accomplish while there?”
Leslie shook his head, “Now, now. I’ll not give you ideas. You must think of your own pranks. After you’ve finished with the university we can compare notes.”
A thought suddenly occurred to Philip. “You weren’t involved in the bathing scandal?”
One look at Leslie’s face was sufficient to confirm the suspicion. “What was the bathing scandal?” I asked, delighted. “I don’t wish to hear about it!” Mary exclaimed.
Philip ignored her. “It seems that in Uncle Leslie’s day...”
Leslie stopped him. “If she must know, I’d better explain it. I am not certain what version is circulating now. Well, Heather, there was a somewhat eccentric don who used to bathe in nearby lakes and rivers. One day, one of my friends spied him and shared the knowledge with a group of us. I am afraid we were on a spree for we conceived the following plan. For several days, we watched the spot until finally the don returned to bathe there. We waited until he shed his clothes and entered the water. Alone. It never seems to have occurred to the fellow that it might be foolish to leave his clothes unguarded. At any rate, we scooped them up and carried them off with us.”
Philip was laughing, as was I. Mary asked, “How did the poor fellow contrive?”
Leslie laughed. “That was the best part of it. The don was resourceful and fashioned a sort of covering from leaves and branches. Then, keeping to hedges and so on, proceeded to walk home. At some point someone noticed him and, deciding the fellow was mad and ought to be clapped up in bedlam, gave chase. The don was near home and decided to run for it. As he cross
ed the field to his lodging the covering dropped away and he was in the buff for all the world to see. He had a great deal of difficulty convincing the authorities he was sane and ought not to be carted away!”
“Leslie!” Mary said reprovingly, “how disgraceful.” Although I agreed, I also could not help wishing I had been born a man so that I could attend Oxford and take part in such things. I must have voiced part of the thought aloud for Philip exclaimed, “What a henwitted notion! And I daresay Uncle Leslie feels so more strongly than I!”
Leslie replied, after a moment, “Well, I certainly shouldn’t have married Heather in that event.”
“I am quite happy not to have been born a man,” Mary said with dignity. “I don’t think I should have enjoyed it at all.”
I reached for my wineglass and, finding it empty, turned to ask to have it refilled. As I did so Leslie caught my eye and discreetly shook his head. For a moment I was angry: how dare he presume to say I could not have more? But then I realised he might have cause. My head felt light, my hand a trifle unsteady, and words tripped a little too quickly off my tongue. I glanced at Leslie guiltily, but he smiled reassuringly.
“... not set Philip a bad example, Leslie,” Mary was saying.
“I’m sorry, Mary,” he said and, turning to Philip, admonished, “You are not to take my behaviour as a model.” A twinkle in his eyes belied the stiffness of his words. “Except, of course, in the fact that I was never caught!”
“Leslie!” Mary said despairingly. “I swear, Heather, that I am glad he is not my husband.”
And I wish he were not mine! I wanted to say, but did not. Reminded of my situation, I could no longer enjoy the comfortable atmosphere. Philip must have noticed, for he spoke hastily, “I say, Aunt Heather, don’t cut up stiff! Mother’s only roasting you.”
I forced myself to smile and say lightly, “Of course. And since she is not married to Leslie, it scarcely matters, does it?”
Leslie regarded me grimly over the rim of his wineglass. But he spoke lightly also, “I am afraid, Heather, that all my life Mary has been trying to take care of me and keep me out of trouble. A thankless task.”
Philip seemed amused by the exchange. I wondered if he now considered Leslie more human. I hoped so, for the tensions earlier in the day distressed me. And, selfishly, I welcomed Philip’s company and felt that if the two were at ease with each other, Philip might remain longer. Mary also, of course, but while over the years I had had a surfeit of female companions, I felt starved for male companionship. Particularly male companionship that carried with it no possible complications and no emotional demands.
The men remained behind with their port while Mary and I withdrew. “My dear,” she said, when we were alone, “I am happy to see Leslie in a better frame of mind. I wonder what might have happened? Well, no matter. Tell me, my dear. Have you any plans for refurbishing the castle?”
I shook my head. “I hardly feel it my place to make such changes. I cannot feel I have the right.”
“Nonsense!” she said firmly. “You are Lady Kinwell! You’ve every right to do as you choose. And if Leslie questions that I shall tell him so to his head. You must not let Leslie overset you!”
“But I am not sure I wish to make any changes,” I protested.
“Of course you do,” she retorted. “Tomorrow we shall go around the castle together and form our plans.”
I stared at her helplessly. Mary simply did not understand how I felt. She spoke soothingly, “There, there. Truly, Leslie is not an ogre, as you would discover if you but gave him the opportunity to show you his gentler side.”
Perhaps. But I could not see how Mary’s scheme could do other than set up his back. Though no doubt she knew Leslie better than I. I was freed from finding an answer by the timely entry of the men. I was soon placed, however, in a more awkward position. “Heather,” Mary said, “perhaps you might entertain us? With some music?”
It was not, of course, her fault that she did not remember. “You must excuse me,” I replied as patiently as I was able, “but I have no ability, either with my voice or any other instrument.”
“How fortunate,” Leslie said dryly, “for there are few things I detest more than the sort of inane musical accomplishments most young ladies obtain. I would far rather spend the evening quietly reading.”
My relief at Leslie’s intervention was so great that I smiled at him. Mary was not so pleased. “Well, you shall not be so unsociable this evening, Leslie. Heather, are you familiar with ecarte?”
I signified I was and she called for a card table. Leslie and I were to be partners, it seemed. I dearly hoped he was not the sort of fellow who treated cards as a crucial matter. As the evening progressed, however, I discovered there was no need for concern. We were both competent players and frequently we trounced Mary and Philip. Indeed, it was Mary who called a halt to the cards in obvious poor temper. “It is rather late,” she said, “I think I shall retire.”
Philip was cheerful despite the losses. “You are quite good, Heather. Have you and Uncle Leslie been practising?” I smiled and shook my head. Leslie replied, “I am as surprised as you are, Philip. It is another of her accomplishments that my wife neglected to inform me of.”
“If you knew so little about her,” Philip bantered, “why did you marry her?”
Leslie hesitated, “It was ... one of those things.”
Philip frowned. “That’s exactly what Aunt Heather said. Really...”
“Really,” Leslie said wearily, “aren’t you being rather ungallant? The proper response would be that seeing Heather you had no need to ask why one would offer for her.”
Philip flushed. “Well, of course. I meant ...”
“Philip,” Mary said firmly, “we shall both retire now. No doubt Leslie and Heather would prefer privacy.” She swept out of the room, Philip at her heels. I felt it a shame that Mary and Leslie should still treat him as a child. And if he were a child, then what of me? When they had gone, Leslie turned to stare at the empty fireplace. “I must apologise for my family,” he said. “It seems they have never learned the art of tact. Philip in particular. But then, he is young.”
“No younger than I,” I retorted.
He turned to face me. “No. No younger than you. Confound it, girl, must you always be so niffy-naffy?” he demanded.
I stiffened. “And why should I not be? Neither you nor Mary appear to give Philip the respect or consideration due him.”
“You’ve a high opinion of Philip, haven’t you?” Leslie asked quietly.
“And why not?” I demanded hotly. “He has been kinder to me than anyone else I’ve met since I left school.”
Leslie flushed. “Does that include my sister? Or Mrs. Morgan? Don’t you simply mean he has been kinder to you than I have?”
I threw my head back. “All right. Yes. That is precisely what I mean.”
“Why?” Leslie asked harshly. “Because he hasn’t ravished you? Give him half a chance and he will.”
I opened my mouth to reply but I was too shocked to speak. I turned and started to leave the room. Before I could take more than a few steps, a hand closed on the back of my neck and halted me. “Why do you insist on provoking me?” Leslie whispered from above. “Lord knows I resolve to be patient. But always you cause me to forget my resolve.” His hand closed tighter. “I would dearly love to shake you as you deserve! But that would scarcely improve matters. Nothing short of removing your tongue ... and even then you would find some way of expressing your contempt and hatred for me! You said that your behaviour is unpardonable and unspeakably rude. You are quite correct, madam. You also said you were afraid you could not curb your tongue. Well, I suggest you try or I shall not be able to curb my temper!” He released me. “Go to bed,” he said contemptuously.
I turned and stared up at him. “I hate you!” I whispered. “I hate you and I always shall!”
And then I fled up the stairs to my chamber. Behind me the door slammed shut and
I frantically bolted it. Finally I threw myself on the bed to cry.
Chapter 6
I woke early the next morning. The scent of roses assailed me as I realised I must have at some point undressed. In the calm of morning my hysteria of the night before seemed unjustified. I did not excuse Leslie’s behaviour, but I could admit that I had provoked him. I rang for morning tea, unwilling to descend and face anyone over the dining table so early in the day. Ellen arrived with Margaret. “My lady,” she said excitedly, “the trunks from Mademoiselle have arrived! Shall I have them sent up?”
“After I’ve dressed,” I said smiling, for Ellen seemed more pleased than I could feel. “Tell me, Ellen. Have the others risen yet?”
“Oh, yes, my lady,” she replied. “Master Philip is out riding; Sir Leslie is dining; and his sister is taking tea in her chamber. Margaret said she asked the same question.”
I sighed. I truly hoped Mary had forgotten her determination to help me refurbish the castle. For in truth I liked the household as it was. Nor did I wish to antagonise Leslie. I hated him and did not wish to weaken my position in any way by putting myself in the wrong. Ellen helped me dress, choosing the green morning costume. I then relaxed over tea, postponing the moment when I must face Mary. Ellen directed John as he brought the trunks of clothes to my chamber. I could not say Leslie had been ungenerous. There were four trunks and, according to Ellen, four more to come later. At last, I could delay no longer, and leaving Ellen to put away my new outfits, I descended to the morning room. Mary was, as I expected, waiting for me. “Good morning, my dear,” she said. “How delighted I am to see you are an early riser. Have you eaten? Good. Did you sleep well? Excellent. Well, shall we begin with here?”
“Mary, I ...” I began, then I saw Leslie in the doorway. The memory of the previous evening caused me to stiffen with fear. What if he were angry still? “Good morning Mary, Heather,” he said impassively. “Mary, whatever your plans, you must delay them. I have decided to give Heather her first riding lesson.”
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