Anna Jacobs (24 page)

She giggled. “He is rather a fool, isn’t he? I’ve not had much experience of men, but he seems very gullible in his conceit. Am I doing it well, the flirting, I mean?”

“Much too well!” he growled, and kissed the tip of her ear, which was temptingly close to his lips. “If he continues to drool over you in that disgusting way, I shall wind up punching him in the face! Stupid windbag!”

“Well, I have to encourage him a little, so that Grandmamma will think I’m falling in love with him. I can’t pretend to like Mr Serle, for he’s the one she wants me to marry. He seems quite nice, though, don’t you think?”

“Hang Serle! Look, love, let’s be done with this playacting and just tell your grandmother straight out that we’ve fallen in love and wish to get married.”

“Oh, how I wish we could!” she sighed. “But I promise you it wouldn’t work. Firstly, she doesn’t believe that persons of our rank should allow themselves to fall in love. When she caught Bea and me reading a novel once, she threw it on the fire and read us a dreadful lecture about only housemaids falling in love.” She smiled reminiscently. “And I was just about to find out whether Melissa escaped from the evil count and managed to be reunited with her childhood sweetheart, too.”

“Dreadful. Tell me the damned book’s name and I’ll buy you another copy.”

“Oh, there’s no need. I got my maid to purchase another for me the very same week.”

He shook with laughter. “I might have known.” And of course he had to kiss her again, she was looking so beautiful in the moonlight. Then had to stop at a kiss or two in case he shocked her with his passion, because for all her talk, she was clearly an innocent where men were concerned.

“Aah,” she sighed as he pulled away. “I missed you so much, Crispin!”

“And what else do you wish to tell me about your grandmother, my love?” he prompted, keeping firm hold of her hand.

“Well, I think if we told her the truth, she would probably send you away again. Believe me, she can be very autocratic at times - especially if her will is crossed. No, I’ve got to show disinterest in Mr Serle and a fascination with Smeathley,” she grimaced at the prospect, “until she decides to do something about it. She’s determined to marry me off, for some reason.”

He sighed and they both sat there quietly for a while, hand in hand, her head against his shoulder, staring at the moonlit gardens.

Eleanor broke the silence, aware that she shouldn’t linger there too long, in case someone saw her. “You’ll be glad to know that you’ve made an excellent first impression on her, in spite of being called Crispin, and you must continue to woo her favour. And - “ she pushed him away, “Stop it! I can’t think properly when you’re kissing me!”

He chuckled and pretended to pull his hand away from hers as well as his lips, but she wouldn’t allow that.

“My master stroke is that I’ve planted an idea in Grandmamma’s mind about me being the last of the true Graceovers and I rather think she’ll decide to let me marry you in the end to keep the family breeding from the true line, even if the title has lapsed.”

“You’re a devious little schemer, and I doubt I’ll be able to call my soul my own after we’re married. But flirting with that fellow sticks in my gullet!” His voice rose a little with the vehemence of his feelings.

“Shhh! Someone will hear us!”

Justin, whose bedroom window looked out onto the terrace, was lying awake trying to work out how to get Beatrice on her own, so that they could have a frank discussion. As Crispin’s voice rose, Justin realized that the whisperings he had put down to night animals and rustling leaves was the sound of people talking outside. He couldn’t resist getting out of bed to see who they were.

By the time he’d managed to open the window, the couple below him on the terrace were once again entwined. Looking down, he could only see the tops of their heads, half obscured by some damned creeper which grew in profusion upon the old walls and by the branches of a tree which ought, he thought angrily, to have been better trimmed.

As the couple drew apart, Eleanor brushed her hair back behind her ears. Justin sucked his breath in sharply. He had seen Beatrice tuck her hair out of the way in just that manner. He tried desperately to make out the features of the people below him, but the lady, who could have been either Beatrice or Eleanor, was now sitting with her head on the gentleman’s shoulder. By leaning perilously far out of the window, he managed to confirm that the man was Crispin Herforth, but he could neither confirm nor deny his fear that the woman might be Beatrice. He remained there, feeling murderous, trying to see more clearly and failing.

Eventually the two people below stood up and went indoors, but that was no help to the watcher above, for as soon as they moved away from the bench, they were hidden by the building itself.

Justin sighed and went back to toss around until the small hours of the morning on a bed which seemed to be full of lumps. If that had been Beatrice on the terrace, it would explain a lot. She might have been attracted to him in London, but she was presumably already promised to another. And it was clearly a secret attachment, for Crispin had shown no signs of paying her attention during the evening. In fact, Mr Herforth had been remarkably self-composed.

It might pay, Justin decided grimly, to get to know that gentleman better. He wasn’t going to give Beatrice up without a struggle. And of course, the woman might turn out to be Eleanor. He prayed it would.

The following morning, the younger members of the party decided to ride out to look at Eleanor’s favourite view, a place where she had spent many happy hours.

Crispin caught her eye for a moment and smiled at this way of describing their previous rendezvous spot.

Augustus Smeathley proved to ride very heavily and to have little skill at managing even the sluggish mount he’d brought with him, which made the other four members of the party, all accomplished horsemen and women, look at him in disgust.

Crispin, finding himself next to Serle, couldn’t help exclaiming, “That damned fellow shouldn’t be allowed to mount a camel, let alone a horse!”

“A heavy gentleman in every way,” agreed Justin. “Had you met him before? He’s some sort of a connection of yours, isn’t he?”

“Good heavens, no! And even if he were a relative, I’d never admit it in public. No, as far as I can make out, he’s a connection of Lady Marguerite’s younger daughter’s husband.” He looked with loathing at Mr Smeathley’s broad shoulders. “No,” he repeated, almost to himself, “that fine gentleman will never be invited to put his legs under my table, I can promise you! Do you know, he recommended some verses from the Bible to me this morning, as being suitable for those whom the Lord had favoured with excessive worldly wealth! The impudence of the fellow!”

“Did he, now?” Justin grinned. “What did you say to that?”

“I recommended him to read Proverbs Three, Verse Seven.”

“Did you, by heavens? I wasn’t aware that you were deeply religious, Mr Herforth.”

Crispin chuckled. “I’m not, but I was forced to learn verses of the Bible many times in my youth as a punishment. Never thought they’d come in useful, which just goes to show.”

“Might one ask what that particular verse says?”

The grin broadened. “Be not wise in thine own eyes: fear the Lord and depart from evil.”

Justin let out a shout of laughter that made the others turn their heads to stare at the two men. He decided that he definitely liked Mr Herforth and realized ruefully that he would not blame Beatrice for having formed an attachment to him.

“I that your own mare?” he asked after a few moments. “She’s a neatly-built creature.”

“Yes.” Crispin leaned forward to pat her neck. “But I shan’t be riding her for much longer, shall I, old girl? It’s about time I bred from her. Be a pity to waste this line, just because I’m fond of riding her.”

The two of them went on to discuss horses and found a common interest in the breeding of suitable mounts, which both held to be more reliable than chancing one’s luck at the sales, since you never knew what sort of temperament a strange horse might have.

During the course of the conversation, it became apparent that Crispin knew the countryside round Satherby rather better than a man should who had only arrived the previous night. Justin looked at him in puzzlement.

Realizing that he’d betrayed himself, Crispin grimaced. “I’m no good as a conspirator, am I? I must beg you not to betray me to Lady Marguerite, Serle. I’ve been staying with friends in the neighbourhood, spying out the land before I came to stay at Satherby itself.”

“Did you not meet any of the family while you were here? That was a little risky, surely?”

“Oh, she will not betray me!” Crispin broke off again. “Hell and damnation! Can’t I keep anything to myself?” He stared at his companion. Justin Serle was a great deal more dangerous than he had at first appeared. Crispin decided to terminate the conversation at once before he betrayed all. “I think someone had better rescue Miss Dencey from that bore,” he said and spurred his horse forward.

Justin watched him go, frowning. Had it been Beatrice meeting Herforth on the terrace the previous evening? Surely she wasn’t in love with him? He was a pleasant enough fellow, without guile or malice, but much too young for her. Then he realized, with a huge lightening of his spirit, that it was far more likely to be Eleanor whom Herforth had met if he’d been staying near here recently, for Beatrice had only just returned from London.

He beamed around him, certain he’d hit upon the correct explanation, then studied what the others were up to with renewed optimism. That young minx Eleanor was giving no sign of any attachment to Crispin, for Justin had been watching her and Beatrice surreptitiously. Eleanor hadn’t even glanced his way, chatting to her cousin mostly.

As Crispin joined them, Beatrice looked up with a smile so warm that Justin muttered something under his breath and began to doubt his own conclusions again, in spite of their unassailable logic. He wished bitterly that she would smile at him like that, as she had done in London. He wished he could get her away from the others.

“They say it’s the first sign of madness, you know,” said a voice beside him.

He looked round to find that Eleanor had dropped back to join him. “I do beg your pardon. I didn’t see you join me, Miss Graceover. I thought you were with Mr Smeathley and Miss Dencey.”

“Yes, I was. How interesting Mr Smeathley’s conversation is!” She sighed and rolled her eyes. 

“Don’t try your tricks on me!” he said deciding on shock tactics. “You’re no more taken by him than I am!”

She stared at him open-mouthed for a moment, then inclined her head in a salute. “How very perceptive of you, Mr Serle! Pray don’t tell Grandmamma!”

“May I know why you’re doing it?”

“Oh, just funning,” she said lightly. “Beatrice said I couldn’t fool Augustus Smeathley into believing I was attracted to him and I wagered I could. I think I’ve succeeded, don’t you?”

“Yes, you have. But to what purpose?”

She looked at him sideways, debating with herself how much to reveal. “Why, to show Grandmamma he’s not a suitable husband for poor Bea, of course.” A spark of mischief made her add, “Particularly now.” She gave him a quizzical look.

“Why now?” His tone was harsh and the words came out more sharply than he’d intended.

“Because her affections are engaged elsewhere, of course,” she answered lightly, then, as Beatrice turned to call some query about which route they should take, Eleanor left Mr Serle’s side and cantered forward to join the rest of the party, leaving him no alternative but to follow suit.

Once again Serle began to doubt Beatrice’s feelings and for a moment felt despair surge through him, then his expression became grim. Even if Beatrice did have an understanding with Herforth, he didn’t intend to give her up without a struggle. He couldn’t be mistaken about the way she reacted to him, the way she looked at him sometimes. He couldn’t!

He rode the rest of the way to the lookout in grim silence, making no attempt to converse with any of the others.

Once there they dismounted, the gentlemen tied up the horses and nearly everyone sat down to enjoy the view from the shade of some trees.

Only Augustus Smeathley remained standing. He began to wander to and fro, as if admiring the view and after a few minutes, he called out, “Miss Graceover, I wonder if you could tell me what that landmark is?”

As the landmark in question wasn’t visible from where the others were sitting, Eleanor was obliged to join him. “You ought to look at this too, Cousin Crispin,” she called over her shoulder, not wanting, for some reason she couldn’t fathom, to be on her own with Smeathley. “Grandmamma wishes you to get to know every bit of the estate. Why don’t you join us?”

He jumped to his feet. “Certainly, Cousin Eleanor.”

Beatrice started to rise and follow them, but by the simple expedient of setting his hand on her skirt, Justin managed to prevent her from moving.

“We need to talk,” he said quietly.

“We can have nothing private to say to one another.”

“Can we not? I had thought that - “

“No!” She pulled futilely at the skirt.

“I think you’d better explain why you say that. I believe we have a great deal to say to each other. And I also believe I received some encouragement from you in London.” He reached out and seized her hand.

“Let me go!” she whispered furiously, trying in vain to pull away. “You have no right.” She cast an anxious look at the rest of the party, but their backs were turned and they were concentrating on the view.

“Why did you run away from me at Lymsby, Beatrice? Why couldn’t you explain your feelings to me then?”

She hung her head, very conscious of the warmth of his hand on hers. “I - I was cowardly. I shouldn’t have let my interest be engaged. It conflicted with...” Her voice faded away. She could find no words to explain it which didn’t betray the depth of her feelings for him.

“Conflicted with your other interest,” he finished harshly. To hear it from her own lips seemed so final. “You should have remembered him sooner, should you not?” He released both hand and skirt, and began to stand up. “Don’t be afraid that I’ll pursue where I’m not wanted, Miss Dencey! I’ll find an excuse to leave Satherby at the first opportunity.”