Joan Wolf (4 page)

I fortified myself with another sip of wine and watched him as he took the chair opposite to mine. “You probably think I’m here because I’m on a repairing lease,” he said, and took a healthy swallow.

“The thought had crossed my mind,” I replied frankly.

He grinned. “Not this time, Annabelle. In fact, I did fairly well at Watier’s last week. I rather think I won enough money to last me for a while.”

“My congratulations,” I said.

He settled his broad shoulders against the rose silk chair back. “I came because I was worried about you.”

I twirled the stem of my glass with my fingers. “There is no need to worry about me, Jack. I am going on very well.”

“London isn’t the same without you, Annabelle.” He looked at me over the top of his wineglass. “Even that muttonhead Byron wrote a poem about you—called it ‘Farewell Brightness,’ or some such nonsense.”

“Have you taken to reading
poetry,
Jack?” I asked in amazement.

The grin dawned again. “Not likely,” he said.

The door opened and a footman came in bearing a tray with a pitcher of lemonade and two glasses.

“Lemonade?”
Jack said in horror.

I said firmly, “Thank you, William. You may set it down on the table there.”

William placed the tray of lemonade on a piecrust table close to my chair. He straightened and said in a wooden voice, “Mr. Hodges said I was to tell you that Mr. Jack’s portmanteau has been sent to the Dower House.”

Hodges, that wily old devil, was making sure that Jack knew he was not welcome. My gently spoken, “Thank you, William,” clashed with Jack’s much louder, “What the devil do you mean by sending my portmanteau over to Adam’s! I’m not staying with Adam, damn it.”

I nodded to William to go, which he did. Hastily. Then I turned to confront Jack. “Hodges says that you cannot stay in the house with me, as I am not chaperoned.”

His blue eyes blazed. “Damn it all, Annabelle, I’m your cousin! Of course I can stay with you.”

“You are not my cousin, Jack, you are Gerald’s cousin. And Gerald is...”

I could not say the word.

The quick anger left Jack’s face, and he leaned forward to take my fingers into his own hard grasp. “Annabelle, love, I’m sorry. You know I wouldn’t do anything to distress you.”

I thought as I left my hand in his for a moment before withdrawing it gently, Hodges is right. I ought not to be alone with Jack.

He gave me a charming, crooked grin. “I will even stay with Adam, if that will make you happy.”

I took a deep, unsteady breath. “It isn’t a penance to stay with Adam, Jack.” I took another breath, and this time my voice came out steadier. “He has been very good to me.”

Jack pushed himself out of his chair and paced restlessly to the window. He said, “I cannot understand why Gerald named Stephen and not Adam to be Giles’s guardian. The very thought of Stephen
guiding
anyone is enough to make one shudder.”

“He has done very well in Jamaica these last five years.” I poured myself a glass of lemonade. “Gerald said that ours was one of the few sugar plantations that has not had to declare bankruptcy.”

“My grandfather made a fortune out of that sugar plantation, but its time is finished,” Jack said. “Napoleon killed the sugar market when he barred British goods from Europe. You might just as well declare it bankrupt and be rid of it.”

I drank some lemonade and did not reply.

“I really don’t think I can stand more than two days of Aunt Fanny,” Jack said gloomily,

“Why not? “ I said in surprise. Adam’s wife did talk a bit, but she was an extremely good-hearted woman who had kept an open house for all the Grandville children when we were young. We had all liked Aunt Fanny far more than we liked my mother.

“Because,” Jack said, “she will tell me—in great detail—all about Nell’s come-out. She has told me all about it the last three times we have met.”

“Nell had quite a success in London, Jack. She had four offers of marriage!”

“I know all about them,” Jack said, “I even know the color of each suitor’s eyes.”

I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing.

Jack went to the cupboard where the wine was kept and poured another glass. “One can’t help but wonder why Nell hasn’t accepted one of these desirable suitors,” he commented as he turned to face me again.

I shrugged. “Perhaps she didn’t care for any of them.”

“She hasn’t said anything to you?”

I shook my head.

“Well, she is certain to get other offers,” Jack said. “The word around town is that Adam has come up with a handsome dowry for her.”

The dogs, who had been whining pitifully from behind the door that led into the morning room, now began to bark. I went to the door and opened it to let them in.

“The ubiquitous hounds,” Jack said with resignation as they circled around his feet, reacquainting themselves with his smell.

“They’re spaniels, Jack, not hounds.”

“I say, Annabelle, must they slobber all over my boots?”

I snapped my fingers and the dogs came to my side.

Jack said, “Who was it that Fanny inveigled into helping her bring Nell out? Some old relic of a cousin, wasn’t it?”

“Yes.” I went back to my chair, and the dogs settled themselves on the floor at my feet. “Her name is Dorothy Grandville and she lives in Bath.” I bent down to scratch Portia’s long silky ears. “I offered to help with Nell’s come-out, but Aunt Fanny didn’t seem to want me.”

I tried not to sound hurt, but the fact was I had been hurt. After all, Nell was almost like my little sister. I had always assumed that I would assist in her come-out.

Jack was regarding me with amusement in his pale blue eyes. “Annabelle, darling, no mama in her right mind would want to exhibit her daughter with you alongside for comparison. The point of coming out is that people are supposed to pay attention to you—not to your chaperone.”

Merlin pushed his muzzle against my hand, and I switched from Portia’s ears to his. I didn’t reply.

Jack said, “Do you think you might coax this Dorothy Grandville to come and stay with you at Weston Hall?”

I looked up in astonishment. “Why should I want to do that?”

“To chaperone you, of course,” Jack said. “You can’t keep asking me to put up at Adam’s, Annabelle. Aunt Fanny will drive me straight to Bedlam.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to be visiting quite so frequently, Jack,” I said tartly. “The hunting season is over.”

“Stephen will expect to stay here when he comes home,” Jack pointed out.

I gave Merlin’s head one last pat and folded my hands in my lap. “I don’t even know if Stephen is coming home.”

“Gerald is dead,” Jack said. “Of course Stephen will come home.”

I kept my eyes on my folded hands. “I suppose he will have to. After all, he is Giles’s guardian.”

“He would have come home anyway, Annabelle,” Jack said, “and you know it.”

I felt myself getting into dangerous waters and tried to extricate myself by saying briskly, “Weston is Stephen’s home. Of course he will stay here.”

“Your mother will kick up stiff if you and Stephen are alone together,” Jack said.

I remembered Mama’s words the day of the reading of the will and had to acknowledge that Jack was probably right.

I said bitterly, “I am twenty-three years of age. I have a four-year-old child, and my husband has not been dead a month. Why is everyone treating me as if I were a girl in her first Season?”

Jack said bluntly, “You aren’t a fool, Annabelle. You must know how many men would love to take Gerald’s place.”

I could feel the pulses beginning to throb in my temples. I stood up. “If you will excuse me, Jack, I’ve promised to join Giles in the schoolroom for luncheon.”

Jack accepted his dismissal gracefully. “Very well, I will make my dutiful way to the Dower House.” He gave me a pained look. “Do I have to dine there as well?”

I found a smile. “No, come to the hall for dinner. In fact, if you wait a moment, I’ll write a quick note to Aunt Fanny and ask her and Adam and Nell to join us.”

Jack made a face, but he waited while I wrote the invitation. We went out of the library together, and in the passageway in front of the staircase we ran into Giles and Miss Stedham.

“We were out in the garden getting a little air before luncheon,” Miss Stedham explained.

“Miss Stedham, allow me to introduce my cousin, Mr. Jack Grandville,” I said.

The two of them shook hands, Jack’s eyes glinting with appreciation of Eugenia Stedham’s deep auburn hair and magnolia fresh skin. A little color stained her cheeks at the frank look of admiration in his blue eyes.

“Good-bye Jack,” I said with amusement.

As he turned to leave he murmured to me, “Invite Miss Stedham to dinner, too, Annabelle.”

I thought it was a good idea, so I did.

* * * *

My maid, Marianne, laid out an evening dress made of plain black bombazine, one of several that my mother had had made for me after Gerald’s death. I had scarcely worn any of them, as I was in the habit of dining in the schoolroom with Giles when I was alone at the hall.

“Such a dull material,” Marianne said as she ran her finger up and down the sheenless bodice of the gown.

“In another month or so I can wear black silk,” I said.

Marianne nodded glumly, and I knew she was thinking of all the colorful dresses I would be wearing if I were in London. My young maid adored pretty clothes, and when I was home I tended to live in a riding skirt.

“I expect you are missing the Season this year, Marianne,” I said sympathetically.

“It is that London is so exciting, my lady,” she said. “So many different clothes to wear to so many different places! Balls and routs and Almacks—” Her voice stopped abruptly, and she sank her teeth into her lower lip. “I am sorry, my lady. I should not be speaking of pleasures when you... when my lord .. .” She gathered herself and finished with dignity, “I should not have spoken so. You are not interested in parties now, my lady.”

In fact, I had never been interested in parties. It was Gerald who enjoyed London, not me. I would have been much happier spending April through June in the country, where the beauty belonged to nature and not to artifice.

I finished dressing and went along to the drawing room a little early, as Uncle Adam was famous for being exactly on time.

When Weston Hall had been built in the middle of the last century, it had been designed with a family section in the west part of the house, grouped around one staircase, and a formal section in the east part, grouped around another staircase. The family section contained the library, the morning room, the master bedroom with attached dressing rooms for the earl and the countess, and the room that was now my office. The public section of the house consisted of the hall, salon, drawing room, long gallery, and dining room.

The drawing room, where I received my guests, was a large, elegant room, painted a soft gray color, with a high rotunda ceiling set with gold medallions. Four long windows opened onto a terrace that faced south toward a vista of trimmed shrubbery interspersed with marble statues and flower beds.

I chose a gilt, tapestry-covered chair and sat down to wait for my guests to arrive. At precisely six-thirty, Aunt Fanny arrived in the drawing room, followed by Uncle Adam, Jack, and Nell.

“Annabelle, my dear girl,” Aunt Fanny said in her soft, breathless voice, “how
good
of you to invite us to dinner. Of course, you must be lonely in this great house all by yourself. Please do not ever hesitate
for a moment
to come to visit me. Or certainly you may ask me to visit you. You know how fond I am of you.”

Aunt Fanny was capable of continuing in this good-hearted fashion for at least another ten minutes, but her monologue was mercifully interrupted by her husband. “You must give the rest of us a chance to greet Annabelle, Fanny,” he said. Then, when Aunt Fanny stepped aside, Adam took my hand and kissed my cheek. “How are you, my dear?” he asked. “Good of you to ask us.”

I am tall, so I did not have far to raise my eyes to meet Uncle Adam’s calm, experienced gray gaze. He was in his late fifties, his blond hair was mixed with gray, and his square, genial face bore the look of a man who is well pleased with his world and his ability to deal with it.

Gerald and Stephen had always called Adam “Uncle,” even though he was their father’s cousin and not his brother. He had managed the Weston estate for the last twenty years, first for Gerald’s father and then for Gerald. He and his family resided in the Dower House, which was located at the eastern edge of Weston’s park.

He had always been kindness itself to me, and the smile I gave him was genuine. “It is always good to see you, Uncle Adam,” I said, and turned to his nineteen-year-old daughter, Nell.

She was a small girl in whom the Grandville blond hair was set off by an unusual pair of slightly tilted brown eyes. Nell had always put me in mind of an elf. I smiled at her now, and we exchanged a cousinly kiss.

Jack looked around the room and said, “Don’t tell me we are to be spared the dogs? “

I gave him an irritated look.

“Some fine ladies are preceded by liveried pages,” Adam said humorously, “Annabelle is usually preceded by dogs.”

This drew a laugh from everyone. I spotted Miss Stedham hovering uncertainly in the doorway and beckoned her in, and the rest of the family greeted her in a friendly fashion. The governess was wearing a gray evening dress trimmed in black ribbons and her auburn hair had been pulled into a smooth chignon at her nape, a simple style I myself favored when I was dining at home.

Now that the entire company was assembled, Hodges appeared in the doorway and announced to me that dinner was ready. We lined up for the formal procession to the dining room, with Adam escorting me, Jack escorting Aunt Fanny, and Nell and Miss Stedham bringing up the rear. In this order we crossed the passageway to the dining room, where we took our seats around the mahogany table from which all the leaves had been removed.

It was the first time I had sat at this table since the funeral, and I found myself glancing across the expanse of polished wood, expecting to see Gerald sitting opposite to me.