Lois Menzel

by Ruled by Passion

  This early in the season the stream was cold, and Jack soon had enough. When he heard the ladies and Belinda approaching, he swam to the bank. He quickly scooped up his shirt, pulled it over his head, and was decent again before they made their way along the narrow path through the thicket.

  The women sat beside him on the grassy bank. Anne watched the boys in the deep pool, gliding swiftly through the water. Soon their antics tempted Arelia and she waded in with bare feet.

  “Do you swim?” she asked Anne.

  “No. But I think it must be wonderful.”

  “My father subscribed to a swimming bath in London and considered it excellent exercise,” Jack said. “He taught Tenbury and Henry and me to swim when we were quite young. We came here often in the summer.”

  “After Henry and I were married, I made him teach me,” Arelia added. “I could teach you, Miss Waverly, if you like,” she offered.

  Anne only smiled, trying to envision herself paddling about as Tom and Will were. Arelia soon wandered off to play with Belinda, while the boys splashed water at each other.

  “Are you enjoying your position here, Miss Waverly?” Jack Saunders asked.

  “Very much. The work is easy—hardly like work at all.”

  “How is Tom getting on with his new tutor?”

  “Mr. Pearce only started earlier this week, but so far things seem to be going well. He does not appear to be a man who will settle for any nonsense from Tom, and I believe Tom respects him.”

  “It is just like Tenbury to employ a cleric,” Jack complained. “Can you imagine having him about the place all summer? I shall have to guard my tongue night and day.”

  “I think Lord Tenbury was interested in finding the best man for the position. I doubt if Mr. Pearce’s profession influenced him unduly.”

  Jack smiled. “You have taken Tenbury’s measure quickly enough, have you not, ma’am?”

  “I know he is a master of expedience,” she replied. “The remedy for most any problem seems to be written on the inside of his eyelids. He need only blink, and the solution is forthcoming.”

  Jack laughed aloud, but Anne soon had a more serious question for him. “I have wanted to know, but hesitated to ask Mrs. Saunders. Was Tom always a troublesome boy, or did the problems start after his father died?”

  “You are much deeper than at first you seemed, Miss Waverly. The problems started just after his father died, but in the last year or so have worsened. We know he has not handled the loss well, and we have done what we can to help. We are hoping that in time, the bitterness will pass.”

  “Is that what you think it is? Bitterness?”

  “Tom told me that he thought Henry had wasted his life—that war is a senseless endeavor. When I tried to explain that the continued freedom of the country depends on the dedication of the men in our army and navy, he insisted that the outcome of the battle would have been the same whether his father had been there or not.”

  During the next two days there seemed an almost continuous stream of carriages making its way through the main gates of Tenton Park and down the long drive to the Castle. Anne learned that some of those invited were old family friends, others were acquaintances only. There were married couples, parents with daughters in tow, several widows, and a few unattached gentlemen.

  “God, how I detest these little country gatherings of Arelia’s,” Jack complained as he and Anne stood together at twilight, watching yet another lantern-lit coach move slowly up the drive.

  “Does she have them often?”

  “At least once a year. She never gives up hope that one day she will invite someone who will take Tenbury’s fancy. During the Season she keeps her eyes and ears open for the slightest comment he might make about a particular woman. I swear she takes notes. Then she invites a collection of people with those ladies included, hoping that the country air and relaxed setting will spur Tenbury into some action, preferably a proposal.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Absolutely. The sad thing is that one of these days Tenbury just might fall into parson’s mousetrap, then I fear Arelia will continue the tradition to catch me a wife. How I dread the thought!”

  “Does he know what she is doing?”

  “Certainly he knows, and I am sure he does not care. The summers here are less boring with people about, and not many men eschew the company of beautiful, wealthy women.”

  “Are they always beautiful and wealthy?”

  “Most of the time. This year they certainly are. There are three here already who are surely on Arelia’s list of possibilities. For one—”

  “Wait,” Anne interrupted. “Let me guess. Lady Mason. She is beautiful.”

  “And wealthy. Her late husband owned a respectable portion of Cumberland, and from what they say, he left her a most impressive legacy. A widow ripe for the plucking.”

  “Number two would be the daughter of the Earl of Haverham,” Anne supplied. “I cannot remember her name.”

  “Right again. Her name is Lady Constance Naismith. She is about twenty-five, still unmarried. They say she is mighty difficult to please, but Arelia must believe Tenbury could win her, otherwise she would not have been invited.”

  “That makes only two,” Anne finished. “I can think of no one else.”

  “Ah, you are forgetting Miss Pauline Redditch.”

  “But she is only a child!”

  “She is eighteen. Old enough and pretty enough to tempt any man.”

  Anne found it hard to imagine Lord Tenbury married to any of these ladies, yet she suspected Mrs. Saunders would not waste time inviting women he did not admire.

  Within a few days the guests at Tenton Castle fell into a loose routine. Most of the gentlemen rose by mid morning and spent a leisurely breakfast, after which some went riding while others retired to the billiards room to talk or read the London papers.

  The ladies rose later, seldom putting in any appearance until luncheon. Then they descended in their soft, nearly transparent muslins of saffron, pink, and turquoise to dot the Castle and the grounds with spots of bright color. During the afternoons they chatted in the salons or strolled about the broad lawns. Some made up riding parties with the gentlemen.

  In the late afternoon the ladies disappeared to dress for dinner, a process that occupied several hours. Dinner was a long, formal affair involving many courses, carefully orchestrated by Lord Tenbury’s excellent cook and overseen by Mrs. Saunders. After dinner there was congenial conversation in the drawing room, with several tables of cards. If the gentlemen preferred, they could escape female company in the billiards room, where they enjoyed that game, engaged in smoking, and relaxed with the best offerings of his lordship’s finely stocked wine cellar.

  Anne’s days during this time also fell into a pattern, though hers was much simpler. She had breakfast with Belinda and Tom in the schoolroom. She then spent the entire morning with Belinda while Tom studied with Mr. Pearce.

  Tom applied himself so well during the morning that he often had several hours free in the afternoon. Anne was relieved to see Mr. Pearce showing such good sense. Held too rigidly to a schedule, Tom would more than likely rebel again.

  Often in the afternoons Anne accompanied the children on their adventures. Occasionally she rode with them, or she took them on long walks about the estate. On warm days she went with them to the stream and read in the shade while they swam. Jack sometimes rode or walked with them, saying he had little in common with “Arelia’s set.”

  Other days Anne stayed in the schoolroom planning Belinda’s lessons. She went often to the library, a room seldom visited by Lord Tenbury’s guests. There she would read or write letters to her old housekeeper, Mrs. Nesbitt, or her cousins’ governess, Ruth Marsh. Lady Tenbury sometimes joined her, and they passed pleasant hours together, reading and talking. Anne ate her evening meal with the children and was usually in bed before ten o’clock, while the guests below were still at dinner.

  Anne found great pl
easure in her new gowns. She had never given much thought before to how she appeared to others, but when Belinda admired her gown, or Jack commented that a color became her, she flushed with pleasure. Looking at her reflection in a pier glass, she tried to remember how she had appeared only a few weeks ago. She had gained some weight, and there was a rosy glow to her cheeks. Now that she no longer scraped her hair back so severely, her face appeared fuller and she looked younger, she thought.

  Her new-found pleasure tarnished somewhat in the shadow of the fine ladies invited to Arelia’s house party. Against their costly gowns in brilliant colors, adorned with ribbons and lace, hemmed with rows of ornate flounces, her simple gowns paled. With their elegant coiffures, their wrists dripping diamonds, the fragrance of expensive Parisian scent following them lightly on the air, these women belonged to a different world. When Anne passed them on the stairs or in the hall, some greeted her and most smiled; several ignored her completely. Anne knew now that Mrs. Saunders had not been extravagant in dressing her. The dresses Anne had thought far too grand were perfectly suited to her position as governess.

  Early one afternoon, returning from a walk in the home wood, Anne encountered Arelia leaving the Castle on her way to the stables. She wore a dark blue habit trimmed in black braid; a bright blue feather from her hat curled charmingly against her shoulder.

  “Dear Miss Waverly!” she exclaimed. “I declare I have not set eyes on you for a week.”

  “You have been busy with your guests, ma’am.”

  “Busy? Run off my feet, more like. This type of gathering invariably wears the hostess to a thread. It almost makes one come to dread the summer.”

  “If you dread it so, why do you do it year after year?” Anne asked practically.

  “Why? The answer is there.” Arelia gazed off across the lawn to where Tenbury strolled along an ornamental water with Lady Mason on his arm. The dark-haired widow wore a pale peach gown that contoured her body like a glove. A delicate parasol of the same color shielded her complexion from the harsh sunlight. Tenbury, however, seemed not to mind the sun, for he was bare-headed, his golden hair catching the light as he bent his head to smile at the lady.

  “Look at him,” Arelia continued. “He is so handsome—so much like Henry …” She paused, but before Anne could reply spoke again. “He has much to offer a woman. He should marry. What he is waiting for I cannot imagine; he will be thirty-five in the autumn.”

  “Perhaps he had rather not be wed. Not all marriages are happy,” Anne offered.

  “True. Yet he has a responsibility. He needs an heir.”

  “But surely Tom—”

  Arelia shook her head, interrupting Anne in mid sentence. “No. This is not what I expect for Thomas. Henry and I had property in Kent. It is there for Tom when he needs it.” She looked past Tenbury and his companion to the expanse of park and forest beyond. “All this should go to Tenbury’s son. It has been that way for generations, and that is the way it should be … Dear me. I must go. Lord Wilmington is waiting.”

  As Arelia bid farewell and hurried off, Anne turned and entered the Castle, making her way to the library. Lady Tenbury was there. Anne greeted her and moved directly to the shelves, searching for a specific book.

  “Will you read to me today?” her ladyship asked.

  “Certainly, my lady. What should you like to hear?” Anne found the volume she sought and began paging through it.

  “What do you have there?” Lady Tenbury asked.

  Anne smiled and crossed the room to sit near the countess. “The Odyssey. I was just speaking outside with Mrs. Saunders.”

  When she paused, Lady Tenbury encouraged, “About?”

  “About marriage,” Anne replied. Continuing to turn pages, she did not notice how Lady Tenbury’s brows rose with interest. “Homer has some thoughts about marriage,” Anne said. “Ah! Here it is.” She read aloud:

  “May the gods grant you all things which your heart desires, and may they give you a husband and a home and gracious concord, for there is nothing greater and better than this—when a husband and wife keep a household in oneness of mind, a great woe to their enemies and joy to their friends, and win high renown.”

  “I think that very true,” her ladyship said when Anne had finished. “Do you not find it appealing? My marriage was so.”

  Anne smiled, “I can believe your marriage was, Lady Tenbury, for you are ‘gracious concord’ itself.”

  “La, child! You flatter me. Whose marriage were you discussing—yours or Arelia’s?”

  “Actually, Mrs. Saunders was discussing Lord Tenbury’s marriage.”

  “I see,” her ladyship responded. “I, too, would like to see him happily wed. I think most mothers wish to see their children comfortably settled. But I am not anxious that he be in a rush.”

  “Do your children need to marry for you to consider them settled or happy?” Anne asked.

  “I think companionship and commitment are important. Loneliness can be overwhelming. I felt it keenly when my husband died. Thank the Lord I had three strong sons to help fill the void.”

  And one of those is already gone, Anne thought to herself.

  “But you did not answer my question earlier, Miss Waverly,” the countess said. “Do you find Homer’s concept of marriage appealing?”

  “I suppose so. I have never thought much about marriage. All the years I lived with Papa, I readily accepted my life with him. By the time he was gone, it seemed to me that any opportunity for marriage was long past.” Anne was gazing steadily out the window, an almost forlorn expression in her eyes.

  Very quietly Lady Tenbury said. “Allow me to quote you a bit of the same Odyssey you hold: ‘Surely these things lie on the knees of the gods.’ ”

  The unhappy squeal of a cat—close followed by a pitiful wail from Belinda—brought Anne instantly to her feet and to the partially open library door. Belinda was sprawled across the floor of the front hall, her calico kitten gripped tightly in her outstretched hands. Towering above her with a look of mingled disgust and reproach was Lady Mason, still on Lord Tenbury’s arm. Clearly the woman and the child had collided; to Anne’s eyes, Belinda had come off the worst.

  By the time Anne covered the few steps to the scene, Tenbury had lifted Belinda to her feet. He carefully peeled the frightened kitten from her clothing and handed it to Anne. Belinda shrank timidly against Anne’s skirts when her eyes encountered the scowling visage of Lady Mason.

  Seeing that Belinda’s instinctive apology had frozen on her lips, Anne said, “I am sure Belinda is most sorry, my lady. She must have been chasing the kitten and did not see you.”

  Lady Mason, without acknowledging Anne’s apology or even looking at Belinda, turned to Tenbury and said, “What one most dreads about coming to the country is the necessity of encountering children. With what governesses are paid these days, you might think they would at least be able to keep the urchins out from underfoot. I realize this must be your niece, Tenbury, but do you not agree that children should be confined to the nursery?”

  Anne stood with the kitten clutched to her breast, one arm about Belinda’s shoulders, as she listened with unbelieving ears to this speech. She could do nothing more than stare at the lady, totally at a loss for words even had she been able to summon the courage to utter them. Her eyes moved from Lady Mason to Tenbury, whom she found regarding her with a stern expression. Unable to withstand his scrutiny, she dropped her gaze to the floor. Tenbury answered Lady Mason’s question after only the slightest pause.

  “I do not agree at all. I believe children should be wherever their adventurous feet carry them. Within reason, of course.” He reached down and took Belinda’s chin in his hand, tipping up her tear-stained face. “I think your kitten has had enough excitement for one day, Belinda. Perhaps it would be best if you took her outside to play.”

  The child was smiling as Anne escorted her out the door and down the steps. Anne was grateful that the earl made so little of the inc
ident, but she was prepared to pity both Belinda and Tom if Lady Mason ever became the next Countess of Tenbury.

  Chapter 7

  Early the following afternoon, dressed demurely in her gray gown and straw bonnet, Anne set off to walk to the village. There had been rain during the early hours of the morning, but it had cleared away, leaving blue skies with thin white clouds above. Near the puddles left by the rain, house martins were busily collecting mud for their nests. Along the hedgerows she noticed the frail wild roses in bloom, while in the fields beyond, the farmers were busy cutting the first hay of the season. The sweet scent of freshly mown clover greeted her on a gentle northerly breeze. Further on she recognized a patch of blackberries in blossom—she would bring Belinda to pick them later in the summer.

  She was nearly halfway to the village when Tenbury overtook her in his curricle. He pulled his pair to a standstill beside her. “Well met, Miss Waverly. I have been wanting a word with you. Are you on your way to the village? Let me drive you.”

  “Thank you, sir, but—”

  “I know, you prefer to walk. Unfortunately it is difficult to conduct a conversation between a carriage and the ground.” By a quick count he realized this was the fourth time she had refused to drive with him. Nettled, he was in no mood to indulge her.

  “Perhaps we could speak another time, my lord.”

  “The present time is most convenient for me, Miss Waverly.” When she still hesitated, he added. “May I add that I am not accustomed to having persons in my employ gainsay me, ma’am. Please get into the carriage.”

  The groom jumped down, vacating his seat. Anne unhappily took the hand Tenbury held down to her.

  As Murdock set off back to the Castle, Tenbury put his horses in motion, and Anne summoned all her willpower to calm her anxiety. She had just finished luncheon … she must not allow herself to be ill now.

  “Could you let the horses walk, my lord? The day is so pleasant.”

  He cast a sideways glance at her. Her face had lost its color, and her eyes were dull. Suddenly suspicious he asked, “Do you fear open carriages? You need not. I have been driving more than twenty years and have yet to kill a passenger.” Then remembering one day long ago and feeling the need to be totally honest he said, “There was a broken arm once … Henry.” When she turned her horrified gaze to him he added, “But we were racing recklessly, and the pair we had that day were never so steady as these. What do you need in the village?”