Nicola Cornick (14 page)

And now not even the courtesy of her formal name, now that he no longer had any reason to hoodwink her! For some reason, Annabella had never imagined that Will would seek her out again, let alone here at
Larkswood, which was the very cause of the dispute between them. But now that he was here, she wondered why on earth she had not thought to anticipate such a meeting, for she was indeed woefully unprepared to deal with him. Acutely aware of the cobwebs clinging to her skin, her flushed face and her stained and torn gown, she glared at him.

‘You are not welcome here, Sir William! Leave my property immediately!’

Will showed no sign that he had even heard her, strolling imperturbably across the cobbles towards her. Annabella’s fury locked in a tight pain in her chest.

‘I want to talk to you.’ Now he was standing in front of her.

‘Well, I have no wish to talk to you!’ Annabella raised her chin. ‘Take yourself off, sir!’

Will seemed unmoved. He smiled slightly, as though she were a spoilt child. It made her blood boil even more. ‘Must you be so melodramatic?’ he enquired. ‘I had hoped that we could go into the house and talk sensibly about this.’

Talk sensibly! It was the last thing Annabella wished to do! ‘You are not listening to me, sir,’ she responded furiously, her green eyes flashing. ‘I do not want to speak to you. Now, go away!’

No gentleman that she had ever met, and certainly no one whose manners were as good as Sir William’s, was likely to disregard her wishes in this and force his company on her. She had already turned away when Will picked her up and carried her, kicking and shrieking, into the house. Susan, who had come into the yard to find out what had happened to the pail of
water, stood in open-mouthed amazement as Sir William strode past her.

‘The devil you don’t!’ he said equably, as he put Annabella down on her feet in the drawing-room and prudently stood back out of range when she might have tried to slap him. He closed the door, then looked about him with what Annabella could only interpret as horrified surprise.

‘Good God,’ he said, quietly.

She could imagine what prompted his thoughts and it filled her with even greater anger. The once-delicate plaster of the ceiling was crumbling into dust and mould was growing on the walls. The floorboards had given way in one corner and the curtains were rotting where they hung. There was barely any furniture and a fusty smell filled the air.

‘You cannot possibly stay here,’ Sir William said, still in the same quiet tone.

‘Yes, I understood that was what you came to tell me,’ Annabella said nastily, suddenly afraid that she might cry. The temerity of the man in pretending to care about her was too much. ‘So, do you intend to try to buy me off, sir? Or perhaps you have no wish to offer money for such a ruin of a house, and have simply come to tell me that you will take the case to court? You are too late, sir—my lawyer has told me as much already!’

Sir William sighed, driving his hands into his trouser pockets. ‘I meant only that the place is not fit for you to live in and you will make yourself ill in the trying. Good God, the walls are running with damp—you will succumb to a chill within a week!’

‘Your concern touches me, sir,’ Annabella said,
filled with a perverse enjoyment that she appeared to be able to be as horrible to him as she wanted without him retaliating. ‘You need pretend no longer, however! Had you had any genuine consideration for me, you would have told me of your interest in Larkswood from the start, instead of cozening me with soft and sweet words!’

‘So now we come to it,’ Will said softly. He opened the door again, letting in the fresh air and the sunlight. ‘It is not as you imagine, Annabella. How could I have told you? I was caught—I knew that if I told you about Larkswood as soon as we met you would assume that the house was my only interest in you, or that I was trying to charm you into letting me have it back for a minimal price…I knew that you would not believe I was interested in you for yourself alone!’

‘Whereas now, of course,’ Annabella said sarcastically, ‘I know just how true your sentiments really were!’

She saw a muscle tighten in Will’s jaw and felt even happier to see that she could pierce his indifference and make him angry when he was trying so hard to be rational. She felt almost drunk with the pleasure of it.

‘Have you now come to tell me that you have changed your mind and will not be claiming Larkswood back?’ she demanded, and saw her answer at once as he turned away.

‘If you would let me explain,’ he said, with constraint. ‘My father regretted the wager he made with Bertram Broseley by which he signed away this house. He tried to buy it back several times, I believe, but your father would have nothing to do with it. I
am willing to try to prove that the wager was illegal because I need the house—’

‘
You
need the house!’ The hurt burst in Annabella in a huge, angry tide. ‘No, sir,
I
need this house—really need it! You, who have so much, think of taking from me the only thing that really is mine! What am I to become—a pensioner of my sister and her husband, or worse, the continued object of Lady St Auby’s charity?’

‘I had once hoped,’ Sir William said very quietly, ‘that you would become my wife.’

‘Oh!’ The cruelty of his words touched Annabella to the quick. She felt all the breath go out of her as though she had been punched. She turned on him in blazing fury. ‘There is no need to gild the lily, sir! All pretence between us is at an end! You never cared for me, and I never had any feelings for you!’

‘Is that so?’ Sir William had moved with surprising agility to catch hold of her and pull her into his arms, despite her struggles. Annabella could not free a hand to slap him, so she kicked his shins viciously.

‘You little vixen!’ Sir William still sounded amused and it infuriated her. If he had tried to kiss her, she would have bitten him. He did not do so, however, merely holding her so tightly that she could barely move. He spoke into the golden curls.

‘Now, my love, I remember thinking once that honesty was one of your greatest virtues. Be honest now, and tell me that you are indifferent to me.’

‘I see that you are amusing yourself at my expense as well—’ Annabella said hotly, only to be interrupted.

‘Amusement be damned!’ There was angry vehe
mence in Weston’s tone now behind the quietly spoken words. ‘You are determined to think the worst of me, are you not, madam? What, then, if I live up to your opinion of me?’

It was unfair, Annabella thought desperately. Held close in his arms, all she could concentrate on was the treacherous persuasion of his body against hers, the feeling of attunement that was both familiar and yet intoxicatingly exciting at the same time. She looked up into his eyes, her own darkening with despair.

‘You need not make your feelings any more plain, sir—’

‘Oh, indeed!’

She could not fight him, nor, she found, did she have any inclination to do so. This time there were no concessions to her inexperience. He kissed her with a ruthless demand and she returned the kiss in full measure. They were so swept away that neither of them heard the carriage that rumbled up the track, or the voices in the yard and the footsteps in the hall. They did not break apart until an amused masculine voice behind them said,

‘Well, William, I have found you in some extraordinary situations before now, but none so remarkable as this!’

It was a moment of some delicacy. James Mullineaux was lounging in the doorway, a whimsical smile on his face as he regarded the couple. Annabella, her heart sinking, saw that Alicia was at his shoulder, immaculately beautiful as ever in a dress of bright yellow that should have clashed horribly with
her auburn hair, but of course did not. And worse, behind them, but still with an undoubtedly clear view of proceedings, stood her grandmother, the Dowager Countess of Stansfield, whom she had never previously met but whose identity was obvious. Lady Stansfield, in vivid emerald green that matched her bright green eyes, was watching Annabella with an incalculable expression.

‘We had thought to invite you back to Oxenham with us, Annabella,’ Alicia said to her sister, hurrying into the sudden silence, ‘but perhaps, if you have settled your differences with Sir William…’ Her thoughtful gaze travelled from Annabella’s bright red face to Will’s studiously blank one.

‘I have not!’ Annabella snapped. ‘Sir William has made some arrogant and groundless assumptions that his suit would be welcome! Well, it is not, whatever appearances may say to the contrary!’

‘It was a good try though, Will!’ James Mullineaux observed with a broad smile, and Annabella glared at him, quite forgetting that she had always been in awe of her sister’s devastatingly handsome husband.

‘Well, then…’ Alicia said, a little inadequately, as the silence again threatened to become embarrassingly long, ‘would you care to stay at Oxenham for a little, Annabella, just until Larkswood is made more comfortable for you?’

Annabella caught Alicia’s eye and was shaken out of her self-absorption. Preoccupied with her feelings for Will Weston, appalled that she had responded so fervently to his kiss, humiliated to have been discovered thus, she had not really thought how difficult
such a meeting could be for Alicia. Now she came forward with a sudden, shy smile to kiss her.

‘Oh Alicia, I am so sorry! I am really so very glad to see you again, and nothing would please me more than to spend some time with you, but only—’ her gaze fell on Will and hardened again ‘—as long as it is understood that I do not give up my claim to Larkswood! I do not care if our father robbed, cheated or murdered his way into this property—I intend to keep it!’

Alicia hugged her, a little apprehensively. Seeing her own temper reflected in someone else was a rather nerve-racking experience. ‘Of course! We can talk about it all later. For now, let us get you out of this place before the whole house comes tumbling about our ears—’

‘Annabella!’ The autocratic tones stopped them all in their tracks. Lady Stansfield had drawn herself up to her full—tiny—height. ‘Come here, my gel.’

Annabella’s heart was suddenly in her mouth. She knew of her grandmother only by repute, but had heard that the old lady was sharper than a needle and never minced her words. She dropped her a demure curtsy. Lady Stansfield’s jewel-bright eyes scanned her face thoughtfully.

‘Hmph! Don’t seek to cozen me with your milk-and-water airs, miss! It’s a bit late for that! I saw you just now, aye, and heard you too!’ She took Annabella’s chin in her hand. ‘You have a great look of your mother about you, child,’ she said surprisingly, ‘and a Stansfield through and through, to judge by that temper!’ She gave a dry cackle of laughter. ‘You’ll
have to try harder, Sir William, to win this one’s heart!’

‘So it would seem, ma’am,’ Sir William said expressionlessly.

The bright green eyes moved on to search his face for a moment, then Lady Stansfield laughed again. ‘You’ll do,’ she said, with a malicious smile, ‘and I shall enjoy the entertainment of watching you try to prevail!’

‘Grandmama,’ Alicia said severely, ‘we are not all here simply as a diversion for you! James, I shall take Annabella off to pack now, if you wish for a word with Will! Annabella, I think that little maid had better come with you…’ And she shepherded her sister and her grandmother out of the room.

As she packed her meagre belongings for the second time in a month and instructed Susan to do the same, comforting the lovelorn girl with the thought that they would soon be back, Annabella was prey to very mixed emotions. She had no intention of letting go of Larkswood now that she had found it, nor of falling victim to Will’s convincing lies for a second time. And whilst she was glad to have the chance to get to know both her sister and her grandmother better, she was aware that it could distract her from the problem of the house, and that could be dangerous. Besides, whilst neither Alicia nor James had expressed any view on her relationship with Sir William, they were both great friends of his and could therefore not be impartial…Annabella sighed. Looking out of the window, she saw James and Will emerge from the house and part with a quick word and a handshake. No, it would not do to let her defences down.

A
licia Mullineaux was reading, but her mind was not on the written word, and when the door opened softly to admit her husband into the bedroom, she cast the book aside on the bedspread with little regret.

‘James, I need to talk to you!’

James Mullineaux raised one black eyebrow and sat down beside her, taking her hand in his. His wife looked distractingly lovely in a diaphanous lace nightdress, but he doubted whether she would appreciate being told so at the moment, for her face was crumpled with worry in a way that made her look absurdly childlike.

‘What is it, my love?’ he asked gently. ‘Surely you cannot be worrying about Annabella again? She is with your Grandmother in her room, chatting nineteen to the dozen, so that is one of your fears allayed, at least!’

The frown on Alicia’s brow lightened for a moment. ‘Yes, I must own that I had the gravest doubts that they would like each other, and yet they have taken to each other in such a way!’

‘Your grandmother,’ James said, toying with a curl that was lying seductively in the hollow of Alicia’s collarbone, ‘recognised instantly what the rest of us have only just started to realise, which is that Annabella, like you, is a Stansfield after her own heart! So, if that is not your concern, what—?’

Alicia’s frown returned. ‘It is just that I cannot believe Annabella is happy,’ she said in a rush. ‘She loves Will, but she refuses to see him, and will not listen to a word in his favour. Oh, I can see that she believes herself deceived and, indeed, it was unfortunate that he did not see fit to tell her about Larkswood before, but…’

James’s lips had replaced his fingers in stroking the delicate skin of her neck, and Alicia stopped, trying to remember what she was trying to say. ‘James…’

‘Yes, my love?’

‘About Annabella and Will…’

James raised his head slightly. ‘Alicia, I love Will Weston like a brother, and I want your sister to be happy, but we must leave them to sort out their differences. And just now I could wish them in Hades…’ His fingers had found the ribbons which tied the nightdress and were giving them short shrift. He slipped his hand inside the lacy bodice. Alicia gasped.

‘Do you still wish to talk?’ James asked teasingly, his lips brushing hers, ‘or may it wait until later?’

Annabella St Auby and Will Weston were also awake, but for different reasons. Annabella had parted company with her grandmother a few minutes before, having spent an entertaining evening being regaled with stories of Lady Stansfield’s experiences in
ton
society. She was feeling too restless to sleep, pacing about in the pretty yellow bedroom which Alicia had had furnished especially for her, picking up a book, casting it aside, turning to her needlework and sighing before she even attempted a stitch.

Once she was on her own these days, she found that her thoughts reverted to Will Weston in the tiresome but inescapable way that they had done for the past three weeks. When she had first come to Oxenham, he had called to see her several times and she had refused to speak to him, but in the past week he had neither written nor called. She supposed that she deserved this but, annoyingly, his absence had done nothing to keep him from her mind. Nor did Alicia or James ever mention Will to her, an omission which Annabella was beginning to consider as rather sinister.

She wondered whether they were all conspiring against her behind her back, then scolded herself for her obsession. Whatever the case, in a strange way his absence only seemed to reinforce his presence in her mind and prevent any possibility of her forgetting him.

Other young men had called at Oxenham and had been introduced to her by Alicia, who had seemed overly anxious that she should find at least one admirer in local society. Contrarily, Annabella found herself taking random dislikes to these unsuspecting fellows: they were too young, too old, too fat, too thin, too miserable, too
cheerful
…Even Richard Linley, a neighbour of her own from Lambourn, who had every grace and circumstance to recommend him, was found to be at fault simply for not being Will Weston. And through all her bad temper, Alicia would smile tol
erantly and James would look amiable and Lady Stansfield would tease her for being a fickle madam until she wanted to scream with frustration that they did not understand. But, of course, they did, which was part of the trouble.

Had Annabella but known, she was in the thoughts of the very man whom she found so difficult to dismiss. Will Weston was sitting alone in his study with nothing but a glass of malt whisky and his thoughts for company. He had been turning the wooden globe on his desk, a faint, reminiscent smile on his lips as he remembered his travels to Zanzibar and Antigua and the Cocos Islands…He had never wished to settle on land for any length of time until now, and until now he had never met a woman he had wished to marry…He took a sip of the whisky, enjoying its aromatic flavour. From the first he had been drawn to Annabella St Auby, finding both her person and her individuality deeply attractive. It was an irony that the same characteristics which had endeared her to him in the first place were now the stumbling-block in their relationship. Had she been more tractable he would have risked another attempt at an explanation, but he had no confidence that they would not end up quarrelling. So perhaps he would simply have to try to woo her once more…He smiled again. It did not sound like a hardship.

‘I am not certain whether the colours of that flower border work well together,’ Alicia sighed, eyeing the drift of purple and blue with disfavour. ‘What do you think, Annabella? I must discuss the matter with
Fisher, I suppose, and plan a new planting scheme for next year!’

Annabella jumped guiltily. Her mind had not been on Oxenham’s delightful gardens, nor indeed on much that her sister had said for the past five minutes, for she had been thinking of Will Weston yet again.

During the lazy late summer days, she had gradually grown to know Alicia better and had spent much time with her grandmother, who showed all signs of doting on her newly found grandchild. Little Thomas Mullineaux, her nephew, was also an adorable distraction. Meanwhile, James had sent a team of men to lick Larkswood into shape and soon it would be fit for habitation again. Larkswood, her inheritance. She blotted from her mind the memory of Will’s strained face as he had tried to tell her that he needed the house. The mingled misery and anger rose in her once more, and she was glad when Alicia spoke again and distracted her.

‘Caroline writes that Ermina Hurst has gone back to London,’ Alicia said, reading from a letter that had just been delivered. ‘Apparently Viscount Mundell is under siege from another young lady now, a Miss Hart, who has taken Taunton by storm! Poor Hugo! I wonder how he bears it! And Caro has also met an erstwhile admirer of yours, Annabella, one George Jeffries…Oh!’ She pulled a face. ‘I do not think she likes him a great deal!’

‘Neither did I!’ Annabella said, with feeling. She pushed the memory of Jeffries’s insolent face from her mind, but the mention of his name raised other recollections, which she had forgotten until then. She had been intending to ask Caroline about the dreadful
slander of Sir William Weston’s name, she remembered, and whether such rumours had ever surfaced before. Their quarrel had put such thoughts from her mind, but even now, believing him false in his affection for her, she could not quite also believe that his integrity was also a lie. He had seemed too fine a man, too honourable…Stop it, Annabella, she chided herself furiously, as a warmth invaded her heart, threatening to banish her anger and undo her completely.

‘Alicia…’ she began, intending to ask her sister about the rumours, but at that moment, Thomas chose to crawl towards the flowerbed and put a handful of soil in his mouth. In the ensuing excitement, the nursemaid swooped on her charge with cries of alarm, and Alicia took him on her knee, wiping the dirt from his face.

‘I have an errand to run in Challen village,’ Alicia said, when things had calmed down, ‘but I wondered whether you would mind going for me, dearest Annabella? I promised Mrs Coverdale, the vicar’s wife, that I would pass her some of Thomas’s old baby clothes…’ Her gaze fell on her baby son again, gurgling blissfully on her lap. ‘But James is due back soon, and I wanted to spend some time with him and Thomas alone. Would you mind, Annabella?’

In fact, Annabella was quite glad of the trip out. The even tenor of life at Oxenham bored her at times, but only, she told herself severely, because she was so unhappy in herself. And that brought her to the only point of Alicia’s request that was inconvenient, for Will Weston’s home was at Challen Court, and she knew that he was staying there despite his absence
from Oxenham. She told herself that she did not want to see him—and knew that she was lying.

Alicia’s landaulet was very pretty and the drive to the village was accomplished with ease, Annabella having no difficulties in controlling the matched pair that drew the carriage. She had met Mrs Coverdale the previous week, and spent a pleasant half-hour chatting and admiring her newborn baby. She drove back down Challen high street, suddenly noticing that there appeared to be babies and small children everywhere, squalling in their mothers’ arms on cottage doorsteps, or playing by the side of the road. A strange feeling, part-longing, part-envy, stirred in Annabella and she blinked in surprise. That was a train of thought that was even less profitable than her hopeless dreams of Sir William Weston…

She did not see him, as she had half-hoped she would. But as she drew out of the village, past the first set of cross-roads which led to Challen Court, she saw that the stage was before her, setting down its passengers at the junction with the Oxford Road. She reined in and waited until it set off again in a cloud of dust, and was about to drive on when her eye was caught by the two passengers who had descended on to the grass verge.

The first was a young woman little more than Annabella’s age, and she was heavily pregnant. A large, battered portmanteaux, surely too heavy for her to carry, lay in front of her, and a child of about three clutched her hand. More babies and children, Annabella thought exasperatedly. She pulled out to pass them. At the same moment the girl called out, ‘Your
pardon, ma’am! Can you direct me to Challen Court, if you please?’

Annabella paused, looking more closely. The young woman was very pale and there was a sheen of sweat on her face, no surprising thing in the heat of the afternoon, but suggestive of illness rather than mere warmth. Her thin dress was sticking to her, and a sudden grimace of pain crossed her features, causing her to grip the child’s hand so tightly that she started to cry. Annabella got down carefully. She took the girl’s arm as she swayed.

‘Challen Court is up this road, but it is almost a mile, you know, and you cannot possible walk it! It is obvious that you are very unwell!’

‘It will pass in a minute,’ the girl whispered. ‘The jolting of the coach…’ She swayed again, catching the wheel of the landaulet to steady herself and closing her eyes for a moment.

Enlightenment burst on Annabella in a flash. ‘But we must get you to the house at once! Are you able to endure the short distance in the carriage? I am afraid that it is the only way…’

The girl gave her a faint, reassuring smile. ‘You are very kind, ma’am. It will be some little time yet…’ Her voice trailed away and she closed her eyes again briefly. She had a sweet voice, Annabella thought, momentarily distracted, with an unusual accent…A servant girl from Cornwall, perhaps, for her tones were similar to Susan’s rich West Country voice. But what did she want at Challen Court?

She helped the young woman up into the seat with some difficulty, and bent to pick up the little girl and pass her up to her mother. The child wriggled on to
the seat and turned to survey Annabella with the serious contemplation of children. She was a pretty little thing, fair and sturdy, and she had the most vivid blue eyes that Annabella had seen. Unmistakable eyes…Weston eyes…At the same moment, the young woman said softly, ‘I know that Will can help me…he wrote to tell me to come…’ and she smiled very slightly.

A cold wave of shock broke over Annabella, and she stood back. The woman, who was slumped in her seat, had not noticed anything odd, but the little girl continued to watch her with Will Weston’s bright blue gaze. Annabella gave herself a shake. Later, she told herself sharply, later you can think about this. For now, you must get her to the house. But she felt cold, and her body seemed slow to act, and her fingers felt clumsy on the reins.

A mere few minutes brought them in sight of Challen Court, which was fortunate, for the young woman had turned an even pastier shade of white and had her eyes closed as spasms of pain wrenched her body. Annabella drove straight into the stable yard. Several grooms, who had been working in the tackroom, came running at the sound of the wheels, and one, brighter than the rest, sped off into the house calling for help.

A number of servants now came hurrying forward, and Annabella’s eyes fell with some relief on the unmistakable figure of a housekeeper. She jumped down from the carriage and went up to the woman, grasping her arm. There was no time for long explanations.

‘Please help us, ma’am! I found the young lady at the crossroads, asking for Challen Court. I think she is about to be confined!’

The housekeeper swept one comprehensive look over the huddled figure in the carriage. ‘Yes, you are right, ma’am! John, Harry, lift the young lady down. Beatrice, run inside and heat some water. Has someone gone for the master? What—’