Melinda Hammond

HIGHCLOUGH LADY

Melinda Hammond

Chapter One

 Miss Verity Shore did not believe in fairy tales, nor in knights in armour, but sometimes, just sometimes, she yearned for a little excitement to leaven her humdrum existence as a governess. Gazing out of the window at the grey November sky, she reflected that even the weather had let her down, for the threatened snow had not arrived to brighten a rather dreary day. Shaking off such melancholy thoughts, she turned back to look around the schoolroom, wondering anew at the disorder two lively children could create in such a short time. The blazing fire threw a cosy glow over the room, although the shadows were deepening quickly as the short winter day drew to its close.

 She scooped up the books from the table and returned them to the shelf, pushed slates and chalks into a drawer then paused again at the window to look out at the houses clustered in the valley below. Cromford: Sir Richard Arkwright's vision brought to life. Even after a decade of building the whole area was grey with the dust from the on-going work, the vast mills and sturdy houses for the workers, as well as the excavations for the new canal. With so much labour required it was no wonder many families were flocking to the village. Not that her employer was interested in such industry: Sir Toby Hucklow considered himself too much of a gentleman to acknowledge any connection with trade, even though much of his own wealth came from the quarries that provided the creamy-grey building stone.

 Miss Shore was kneeling on the floor, putting away the counting blocks when she heard the door open. She looked up.

 'Sir Toby! Are you looking for the children? Lady Hucklow summoned them to the drawing room …'

 'I know, I know, Miss Shore. It is
you
I have come to see.' Sir Toby strutted into the room, his burgundy-velvet frock-coat swinging as he moved.

 Verity had risen to her feet and was shaking out her skirts but his words gave her pause.

 'Me, sir?'

 'Why, yes.' Sir Toby shook out his ruffles and gazed down at the large ruby that glinted from one stubby finger. I have not had the opportunity to speak to you since you arrived here, and I do like to be on the best of terms with my household!' He stepped forward until he was standing directly before her, so close that she could smell the greasy pomade on his black hair and see the tiny broken veins that gave his cheeks their ruddy appearance. Her instinct was to move away, but the solid schoolroom table was at her back. Assuming an expression of interest, she waited silently for him to continue. 'Yes, my dear. How long have you been with us now, a month, is it?'

 'Two, sir.'

 'As long as that! Well, well. Of course, I have been away from home for such a deal of time recently. And how are you settling in?'

 'Very well, sir, thank you. Everyone is most kind, and the children are very good.' As long as one has unlimited amounts of energy to keep them amused, she added silently.

 'Good, good. Is this your first post?'

 'No, sir. I was governess to Lord Panbury's daughters until this summer, when the youngest joined her sisters at school. I explained this to Lady Hucklow in my letter of application.'

 'Indeed? And you so young! Why, you hardly seem old enough to be out of the schoolroom yourself … but my wife speaks very highly of you, Miss Shore.'

 Verity forced herself to meet his little black eyes.

 'Lady Hucklow is most kind.'

 'No, no, not kind. You have fitted in here very well. You are an ornament to the schoolroom.' He bared his teeth in a smile that reminded Verity of a wolf about to devour his prey. 'Most definitely an ornament.'

 'Thank you sir,' she tried to move aside but he reached out and caught her arm.

 'Oh, don't run away from me, my dear.'

 'Sir Toby, I have much to do-'

 He chuckled, and the hair prickled at the back of Verity's neck.

 'Nothing that can't wait, I'm sure.' He pulled her closer, until she could feel his hot breath on her cheek. 'I want only a little kiss. You need not be afraid of me.'

 'I am not afraid,' she gasped, struggling to free herself, 'I am revolted!' She broke away and moved swiftly towards the door, but Sir Toby was before her. He barred her way, his yellow teeth still smiling.

 'Come now, my dear. Enough of this jesting.'

 'I assure you I am in earnest!' she declared, curbing her temper as she retreated behind the table.

 'Faith m'dear, so am I. I like a filly with spirit, it makes the chase so much more … interesting!'

 He lunged at her. Verity stepped back and swooped to pick up the poker from the hearth.

 'Stay away, Sir Toby, or I will not answer for the consequences!'

 He paused, a slight frown appearing on his brow.

 'I think you would do well to consider your position, Miss Shore.'

 'I
am
considering it, sir, and at this moment it seems most unfavourable!'

 'You would be wise to accommodate me, my dear. I am your employer, after all.'

 Verity compressed her lips to prevent an angry retort. Misreading her hesitation, Sir Toby's wolfish grin reappeared.

 'Well now, you are a sensible little puss. What if I come to your room after dinner, when we can - ah - discuss this?'

 'Sir Toby, there is nothing to discuss. I am employed here as a governess.'

 'Yes, and what would you do if you were turned off without a character?'

 She stared at him. 'You would not.'

 'I have no choice, if you persist in being unreasonable.'

 Verity's eyes darkened angrily, but before she could retort the door burst open.

 'Miss Shore there's a - oh lawks!' the maid stopped in the doorway, gaping at the scene.

 'Well, what in damnation do you want?' demanded Sir Toby.

 The girl dropped a curtsey.

 'If you please, sir, th- there's a gentleman called to see Miss Shore.'

 Verity put down the poker and moved swiftly towards the door.

 'Thank you Ellen. I shall come at once.' She followed the maid out of the room and hurried down the stairs, allowing a thankful sigh to escape her.

 'We was wondering when the master would get round to you.' Ellen skipped down the stairs beside her. 'He's done it to us all, miss. But it ain't that bad, at least his breath don't smell! And he's generous. Always gives you a little present after he's kissed you.'

 Verity shuddered. 'Well I have no intention of letting him kiss me! Now who is this gentleman waiting to see me?'

 'He didn't give his name, miss. Said it didn't make no odds, since you wouldn't know him. I've put him in the morning room, since Lady Hucklow is entertainin' in the drawing room.'

 Before entering the morning room Miss Shore paused. She was shaking from her encounter with Sir Toby, but it was anger rather than fear that made her tremble. A couple of deep breaths steadied her, but did not dispel the colour from her cheeks, nor the light of battle from her eyes as she opened the door. Candles gleamed in their wall brackets, but no fire had been kindled and the room was cold. Not that her visitor would notice, she thought, for the gentleman waiting for her had not removed a many-caped driving coat that added considerably to the width of his shoulders. The coat was a very pale grey, almost white, and as he was also a tall man, the overall impression was one of dominance in the small room. He was standing by the window, staring out at the dusk but as she entered he turned, and bent a keen gaze upon her from beneath black brows. Verity was in no mood to dissemble and returned look for look.

 'Miss Verity Shore?'

 'Yes.'

 'You are the daughter of Captain Charles Harcourt Shore?'

 'I am.'

 The gentleman relaxed a little.

 'Forgive me for not sending up my card. I am Rafe Bannerman, of Eastwood.'

 'Indeed? Should that mean anything to me?'

 He frowned at her, his brows drawing closer together at her sharp tone.

 'My lands neighbour those of Highclough, your father's family home.'

 'Ah.' She sat down on a chair beside the empty hearth, indicating that he should do the same

 'You must excuse me calling upon you in this manner,' he continued, lowering his tall frame on to a chair opposite her own. 'I would normally have spoken with the mistress of the house before introducing myself, but I understand Lady Hucklow is entertaining.'

 'That is so,' Verity affirmed, trying unsuccessfully to hide her impatience.

 The gentleman bent another searching look at her.

 'I beg your pardon, ma'am. You must be cold in here -'

 'It is no matter, I am used to it,' she interrupted him. 'How may I help you?'

 He was silent for a long moment, regarding her with an expression she could not read in his hard eyes. Then he said abruptly, 'I regret my mission is not a pleasant one. I have come to inform you that your Grandfather, Sir Ambrose Shore, is dead. In fact he died ten months ago but it has taken me this long to track you down.'

 'I see.'

 His brows rose. 'Is that all you have to say?'

 'Did you expect a display of grief? How should I feel anything for a man I have never met - one, moreover, who cut my father out of his will. I am not such a hypocrite.' She broke off, then continued in a quieter voice. 'I am sorry, that was very impolite. My father rarely mentioned him, you see, and never with affection.' She glanced at him. 'You know our history?'

 'Yes. I am a friend of the family.'

 'Then as a friend, my grandfather's death must have caused you sorrow. You have my sympathy. Was - was it very sudden?'

 'No, he had been in poor health since the death of his eldest son, Evelyn two years earlier.'

 'That would be … my uncle?'

 Yes. Following Evelyn's death Sir Ambrose had some idea of making amends to your father. He learned that Charles was already dead, and when he realized his own end was near, Ambrose renewed his efforts to ascertain if Charles had left a family. Subsequent enquiry eventually provided evidence of a widow, since deceased, and a child - yourself, Miss Shore. Since his death I have continued the enquiries, and traced you to a seminary in Portsmouth. After that I once more ran into difficulty.' The corners of his mouth lifted. 'You proved most elusive, Miss Shore.'

 'Not intentionally, I assure you. It was very good of you to go to such trouble, but I do not see -'

 'Evelyn died without issue, Miss Shore. You are Ambrose's only grandchild, and his heir.' Mr Bannerman smiled at her disbelief. 'It is perfectly true, Miss Shore. With the exception of a few minor bequests, Ambrose has left everything to you.'

 'To me?'

 'Yes. Upon certain conditions.'

 He thought for a moment she had not heard him, for she continued to stare into space for several moments before turning her direct gaze once more upon him.

 'And the conditions?'

 'That you are not married.'

 'I am not.'

 'And that you return to Highclough and live there until your twenty-first birthday, which, if my sources are correct, is May next year.'

 'That does not seem unreasonable.'

 'Good.' He rose and began drawing on his gloves. 'Let me know how soon you can give up your post here, I will arrange for a carriage to collect you. Doubtless you will need to discuss this with your employer —'

 She interrupted him.

 'Are you travelling by carriage today?'

 'I am.'

 Verity rose to her feet, her hands clasped tightly before her.

 'And - and could you take me to Highclough?'

 'I could, it is on my way, but -'

 'Then if you can give me but twenty minutes I will go with you now.'

 His brows rose and she allowed herself a little smile.

 'Believe me, sir. I look upon your arrival as quite providential. I was wondering how soon I would be able to quit this house.'

 'Oh? Are the children difficult?'

 'On no, it is not the
children
.'

 His hard, searching gaze rested on her face.

 'The master's been making love to you, has he?'

 She felt herself blushing and glared at him.

 'You make it seem a very ordinary occurrence!'

 'A very common one, by all accounts.' His tone was dismissive. He walked to the window and looked out into the street, where his coachman was bringing the carriage to a halt at the door of Hucklow House. 'Very well, Miss Shore, I will take you with me. But only if you can be ready in twenty minutes. I'll not keep my horses waiting longer in this wind.''

Chapter Two

 It was almost dark when Mr Bannerman's carriage pulled away from Hucklow House and descended into Cromford. Even as darkness fell there was plenty of activity in the village. The mills operated throughout the night, and the many windows of the huge buildings glowed with light. The taverns too were alive with light and noise as the building workers enjoyed their supper and ale after a hard day's labour. After they had passed the long black form of Masson Mill with its ranks of lighted windows, the signs of activity grew less but when they reached Matlock Bath it began again, although in a different form, for here the road snaked between the river and the genteel houses, hotels and shops that made up this fashionable watering place. Lamps burned brightly to light the promenade for the wealthy visitors who had come to take the waters.