by Mary Nichols
He had no choice but to obey and it was left to James and Cecil to pick their partners. Emma watched, her foot tapping. ‘I am sorry, child,’ Amelia whispered to her. ‘You should be enjoying the dancing too.’
‘That would set the cat among the pigeons,’ she whispered back, pretending she didn’t care.
The dance ended, the men bowed and the ladies curtsied, while Charity searched for more music. When she struck up a waltz, Mrs Griggs protested. ‘Charity, that is most unsuitable,’ she said. ‘Find a country dance.’
‘Oh, but, Mrs Griggs, the waltz is considered perfectly proper in London, you know,’ Charlotte said. ‘Is that not so, my lord?’ She appealed to Alex.
‘I believe it is danced frequently in the best ballrooms nowadays,’ he said. ‘Even at Almack’s, which is considered very proper indeed.’ He looked across at Emma as he spoke and there was a twinkle in his eye that made her smile.
‘Oh, do teach it to us, my lord,’ Charlotte begged. ‘It is all right, isn’t it, Mama?’
‘If his lordship says it is done in respectable circles, I think we can allow it.’
Alex smiled and, while Charity inexpertly thumped out the beat, proceeded to show them how to dance a waltz. ‘It’s difficult to demonstrate the lady’s steps without a partner who knows it,’ he said, stepping over to Emma and grabbing her hand to pull her to her feet. ‘Come, Miss Draper, let us show them.’
She should have pulled away, should have refused to leave her seat, but she was not strong-willed enough. She had been longing to dance with him and he had given her the opportunity and she was not going to waste it. She ignored the gasp of outrage of those watching as he swung her into the dance, and after that she forgot them altogether. She was in his arms, her body swaying with his, so in tune with each other, they moved as if they had been dancing together all their lives. He did not speak and neither did she, but there was a mischievous twinkle in his blue eyes as if he knew what he had done and did not care.
The music ended and he held her hand as she dropped into a deep curtsy, then raised her again and bowed. ‘Thank you, my lady.’
She gasped. How could he say that to her? Did he know? Or was he teasing? Had anyone else heard him? ‘My lord,’ she said, bowing her head, so that he should not see her consternation.
‘Now, it’s my turn,’ Charlotte cried, stepping up to Alex as he reluctantly released Emma. ‘Come on, Charity, play it again.’
He bowed and danced with her and then the other ladies, patiently showing them the steps, while Emma returned to her seat, her heart so full of a mixture of elation and jealousy, she could not speak. It would be like that wherever they went. If he singled her out, he would jeopardise his popularity with the elite of the area, but if he ignored her, her heart would break. The best thing was not to attend such gatherings. She did not think Mrs Summers truly needed her and was only trying to be kind by taking her.
Alex knew he had stepped over the line between acceptable and unacceptable behaviour and so he spent the rest of the evening being extra-attentive to the other young ladies, ignoring Miss Draper, which was the hardest thing for him to do, and emptying the butter boat over the older generation of ladies so that by the end of the evening he was once again in favour. He knew they were making an effort to overlook his strange way of going on because they had marriageable daughters and viscounts did not come their way very often. He would have been amused and thumbed his nose at them if he hadn’t wanted to win them over to his regatta idea. By the end of the evening he thought he had, certainly enough for him to feel justified in making a start on the arrangements. They were even talking about a ball to finish off the proceedings in style.
‘After all, now Lord Malvers has shown us how to waltz, we ought to be able to show it off,’ Charlotte said. ‘Do you not think it a good notion, my lord?’
‘Yes, but I do not know if I will have the time to organise it.’
‘Then we will organise it for you, won’t we, Mama? You are very good at that sort of thing, everybody says so. After all, the occasion is not just for the lower class of person, is it?’
Lady Pettifer murmured that she would be responsible for the ball, if Lord Malvers wished it. They could hire the assembly rooms for the purpose.
He had not thought of rounding the evening off in that way, but realised it was a good idea, and, if he did not have the organising of it, so much the better. He thanked her ladyship; the last day in June was decided on by mutual agreement and the evening ended on a happy note.
He spent the next day talking to anyone who could help him. Having discovered that the nearest of the small uninhabited islands belonged to a Mr Hawthorne who lived in Bowness, he set off to see him and obtained his permission to use it for a battle, so long as no permanent damage was done and it was handed back at the end exactly as he found it. Next he went to all the inns and taverns in the area where ex-soldiers congregated and recruited as many men as he could to construct a wooden fortress on the island with all the trappings to defend it, including cannon. Others he set to work making a small armada from boats and yachts and anything that floated. Accounts for the materials they needed were to be sent to him.
‘What’s it all for?’ one of the men asked him.
‘To entertain the population and the offcomers, to make work and bring money to the area.’
‘Yes, I c’n see that, but if there’s to be a battle, it ought to be over something: a broken agreement, revenge for a wrong, the kidnapping of a lady, something like that.’
‘Yes,’ someone else piped up. ‘If a beautiful damsel were to be carried off to the island by evil men, she’d have to be rescued by the good men, don’t you think?’
‘A sort of Helen of Troy,’ Alex mused. ‘You might have an idea there. I’ll put my mind to it.’
Thoroughly satisfied with his day’s work, he returned home, wondering if Miss Draper would consent to take part and be the lady to be kidnapped. He put it to her over dinner. ‘It would only mean pretending to struggle while you are being carried off and waiting on the island to be rescued. What do you say?’
‘If it helps, of course I will,’ she said. ‘But are there not other young ladies who might do as well? One of the Misses Hurley or Miss Pettifer. I am sure she would jump at the chance.’
He looked at her in amusement—his lovely Miss Draper was jealous! ‘No, can you imagine them kicking and screaming? They would be far too decorous for that.’
‘Meaning I am not,’ she said sharply.
‘Well, I do know you can act the part.’
‘Alex, do not tease,’ Amelia said, seeing the look of consternation on Emma’s face. ‘It is unkind of you. It is not Fanny’s fault that she has so many adventures.’
‘No, you are right. I beg your pardon, Miss Draper. But will you do it?’
‘Yes, if you like. Tell me what you would like me to do.’
‘I haven’t worked it out yet, there is plenty of time. We’ll talk about it tomorrow, while we are out riding.’ Because of his outrageous behaviour in making her dance with him the evening before, he knew she deserved an apology and an explanation and going riding might afford an opportunity to talk.
‘Are we going riding? It is the first I heard of it.’
‘I did promise to take you. Tell me if it is not convenient.’
‘It is not my convenience that matters. Mrs Summers might need me.’
‘You go and enjoy yourself, my dear,’ Amelia said. ‘I have no particular need of you tomorrow.’
And so she agreed and began to look forward to it eagerly.
The next morning they rode along the road to the bridge that took them over the river, and then round the top of the lake where she had tried to walk before and were soon following a path through woods that was wide enough for them to ride side by side. They talked about the kidnap of the lady and the rescue attempt and how it could be done, until they emerged on the far shore of the lake. There was a stretch of firm turf here
and they were able to put the horses to a canter. Emma spurred Bonny into a gallop and was thrilled when the mare responded. It was good to feel the wind on her face; for the first time in months she felt free. If only it could always be like that.
He followed her, his heart in his mouth, but when he saw how competently she rode and how fearless she was, he relaxed. She was no novice. They slowed at last and slipped from the saddles to rest the horses, standing side by side, looking out across the lake to Waterhead on the far side. ‘You managed very well for someone who has only done a little hacking,’ he said.
Was he probing again? Or simply teasing her? Should she confess that she had been riding almost since she could walk? If she did, it would lead to other questions and was she ready to answer them? ‘My father taught me. He was very fond of riding. I have done very little since he died.’
‘I am sorry. I did not mean to make you sad.’
‘I am not sad, my lord.’
‘Good.’ He paused, but when she did not enlarge on that, added, ‘Can you not call me Alex, at least when we are alone?’
‘Oh, no, my lord, that would not be—’
‘Proper!’ he said, laughing. ‘For someone who manages to fall into every sort of mischief, getting wet and muddy, letting down her hair and riding like a trooper, you place an inordinate amount of importance on being proper. I do not think you make a very good lady’s companion at all. I said so before, did I not?’
‘Then it is as well it is not for you to decide, but Mrs Summers, and she seems satisfied.’ It was spoken sharply.
‘No doubt there is a reason for that,’ he said gently.
‘Yes, she is a kind lady who understands my predicament.’
‘I wish I did,’ he said.
‘You know perfectly well that it became necessary for me to earn a living and Mrs Summers was known to my mother; it was better than working for a stranger. Surely you can understand that?’
He sighed. ‘I am doing my best.’
‘And so am I. Please do not keep quizzing me, or I shall think you do not believe me and that would be most uncivil of you.’
‘Very well, I shall say no more. But I want to apologise for putting you to the blush the other night. I wanted to dance with you and I had seen you tapping your foot as if you wanted to join. The temptation was too strong to resist. Am I forgiven?’ It was asked with a smile that sent her pulses racing. He had a most disconcerting way of slighting her and making it sound like a compliment.
‘Yes, but why did you address me as if I were a lady?’
‘Oh, I was only demonstrating to the others how it should be done in polite circles,’ he said offhandedly. ‘And it annoyed me to see you ignored.’
Her spirits soared at this, but then plummeted again. ‘But that is my lot, my lord. There is no getting away from it and I beg you not to do anything like that again.’
‘Very well, I shall pay no heed to you in future. Will that satisfy you?’
‘Yes,’ she said firmly, but she did not mean it. She liked his attention, if only because it proved she was not invisible. ‘Now the horses are rested, we had better make our way back.’
He did not try to detain her. What could he say? He knew something troubled her and it was more than the necessity of earning a living, and was hurt to think she did not trust him enough to tell him. One of these days she would try his patience to such an extent he would take her by the shoulders and shake her until her teeth rattled. No one, man woman or child, had ever frustrated him as she did.
They rode back in silence. He helped her dismount and watched her go into the house, her back ramrod straight. He sighed and took the horses to the stables and spent the rest of the day planning the battle, interviewing men and making lists. Being occupied helped to keep his mind off Miss Fanny Draper.
Chapter Eight
The day of the picnic dawned warm and sunny, the first really warm day of the whole summer. Emma, remembering the humiliation she had endured when they went visiting, was reluctant to subject herself to more of the same. ‘I don’t think I should go,’ she said to Amelia at breakfast that morning. ‘After all, you do not need a companion on an outing like that, when there is plenty of company.’
‘Of course you must come. I would not dream of leaving you behind, especially as Miss Hurley made a point of inviting you.’
When Alex came in from ensuring the men knew what was expected of them while he was gone, he agreed with his aunt and Emma gave in. She dressed in the green spotted muslin with a light cape and a plain straw bonnet and took her place beside Mrs Summers in the carriage that was to convey them as far as the doctor’s house in Ambleside, where they would leave it to walk the rest of the way. Their destination, so she was told, was Scandale Beck.
The young people went on ahead, taking the road north out of the town. Emma contrived to drop back and walk with Mrs Summers, which was, after all, her proper place, but she could not help looking at Alex’s broad back as he walked with Charlotte beside him. The girl was talking all the time and looking sideways up at him from under the brim of her flower-bedecked bonnet. She was most definitely trying to engage his attention and he seemed to be enjoying it, smiling and laughing. But Charlotte was not having him all to herself if the other young ladies could help it and they gathered round him until he looked as though he was being besieged.
‘Do you think one of them will manage to snare him?’ she asked Mrs Summers, pretending she did not care, but not quite succeeding.
‘I doubt any of them have what he’s looking for,’ Amelia said.
‘What is he looking for? Has he told you?’
‘He hasn’t said, but I should think he would expect the woman he married to have some intelligence and character.’
‘Miss Pettifer is very pretty and Miss Griggs is handsome, don’t you think?’
Amelia looked sideways at her and smiled. ‘Do you think he would be swayed by that? Handsome is as handsome does, you know.’
‘That may be so, but they come from respected families and no doubt have dowries. It might be enough to change his mind about not marrying.’
‘Change his mind?’
‘Yes, he told me he was not inclined to marry.’
‘Did he, now?’ Amelia said with a smile. ‘I am sure that one of these days he will find a lady who will change his mind for him, but she will have to be someone very special.’ The conversation was being conducted in an undertone so that no one else would hear. Amelia smiled and added, ‘Emma, are you no nearer telling him the truth?’
‘I don’t know how to.’
‘I said it would become more difficult as time passed, did I not? And now I think you are in love with him; unless you are honest with him, you will lose him.’
‘In love with him!’ Emma exclaimed, but even as she spoke she realised that it was true. She had fallen in love with a man she had met only a few days before. Could it happen that suddenly? Could you love a man with whom you were constantly bickering, who teased and quizzed you as if he did not believe anything you said? She sighed heavily—he was right to doubt her, but would telling him the truth now put that right? ‘Lose him?’ she said, wondering if anyone else had noticed and hoping they had not. It was too humiliating to bear. ‘I never had him, nor can I expect anything from him. When I left home I forfeited my rank to become a nobody, a glorified servant, and that is what I must remain. I do not trust my stepfather or Lord Bentwater. I can never go back to being what I was, so there is no point in telling Lord Malvers the truth.’
‘Oh, my child, you are so wrong about that. Shall I tell him for you?’
‘No, I beg you not to. He will think me lacking in courage if I allowed you to do it and it will not make any difference. When I saw how unhappy my mother was in her second marriage, and nearly all because of Sir George’s gambling, I made up my mind never to risk anything like it. I mean to hold to that resolve.’ She had told herself that when she first set out and in the last few days had
repeated it to herself over and over, as if repetition would convince her.
‘You will change your mind. When all your problems have been resolved, you will wonder why you were so foolish.’
Emma did not answer; she could not imagine a time when she would be free of her particular problem. It weighed her down, so that everything she said and did was coloured by it. A few minutes’ respite when she forgot it for a little while was soon followed by a poignant reminder and hours of pessimism, as if she had no right to happiness.
The road had petered out and become a cart track and Dr Hurley was looking back at them, urging them to keep up, so they stopped talking and hurried after him. The track led to an old packhorse bridge. It was a picturesque spot and it was here they set out their picnic. Doctor Hurley’s cook had provided a generous repast and they all sat on rugs to eat; afterwards, while the older people rested, the young ones strolled about. James, who had brought a sketching pad with him, sat with his back against a rock and busied himself with a stick of charcoal, drawing everyone. Charlotte attached herself like a limpet to Alex, flirting with him so obviously that Emma, who might have laughed if she had not been so unhappy, took herself off on her own.
She walked steadily until the ground began to rise steeply. Refusing to give up, she climbed on, sometimes having to put her hands down to help her to scramble over rocks. How long she had been going she did not know, but after a time she felt she was not alone, there was someone following her. Thinking it must be Lord Malvers and not wanting another brush with him, she toiled on until she stopped in the lee of an overhanging rock and sat down on a boulder, too breathless to continue. If he caught up with her, she would simply send him on his way again. Their constant sparring was exhausting her and she dare not risk letting him see how she felt about him.
