Nicola Cornick (18 page)

Annabella began to realise that Amy’s life on the plantation must have been far more pampered and less hardy that she had imagined. She encouraged her to tell her more about it and for a while was regaled with breathless tales of Charleston society, and how happy Amy had been with Will’s brother. Then Amy seemed to droop like a delicate flower and sighed.

‘But, of course, that is all gone now. It is so very hard, is it not, Mrs St Auby, to lose a husband! There are times when I still feel his loss very strongly. No doubt you feel the same!’

Annabella was tempted to say that she had been very glad to lose Francis, but thought this might upset her visitor. ‘I think I understand how you must feel,’ she said diplomatically. ‘And you have been very brave in leaving your home and coming all this way for the sake of your family! You must have been glad to receive such a welcome at Challen Court.’

‘Oh, yes, Will has been all a brother could be,’ Amy said enthusiastically, accepting one of the scones Miss Frensham passed her. ‘He is looking for a house for us, Mrs St Auby, but I hope it will not be far distant from Challen, for I find the society hereabouts most congenial! Your sister has been all that is kind to me, and I hope…I am sure…I could make friends here…’

Annabella smiled at her reassuringly. It seemed odd
that Amy Weston had the brand of courage that could take her from one continent to another, and yet was uncertain of her welcome in country society.

‘I am sure of it,’ she said warmly, and saw the relief reflected in Amy’s eyes.

‘Of course,’ her new friend continued, ‘when Will marries it will be even more pleasant! I do so hope I shall like his wife!’

Annabella jumped and spilt her tea. Miss Frensham tutted and patted ineffectually at her skirt with a lavender-drenched handkerchief. Down the garden, Charlotte Weston was pursuing a brightly coloured butterfly with her little net. Annabella dragged her gaze away and fixed it on Amy’s pretty, undisturbed face.

‘Is that event imminent, Mrs Weston?’

‘Oh!’ For a moment, Amy looked confused. A little colour came into her cheeks. ‘Well…that is to say, I am not really certain…But,’ she said brightly, ‘I heard Will talking to your brother-in-law the other day and making some mention of the changes he would make at Challen when he got married. Then Lord Mullineaux made some comment that I did not catch but I heard him say that half his female relatives had been in love with Will in their time! And,’ Amy added, digressing to show her partiality, ‘I cannot be surprised at it, for Will is a fine man, is he not, Mrs St Auby?’

‘He is very well, I suppose,’ Annabella said, a little coldly. ‘He is not so handsome as James, of course, but…’

‘Oh, no,’ Amy agreed, with a little smile, as many women had done before her, ‘but then Lord Mulli
neaux is so prodigiously attractive, and so devoted to your sister that it makes one quite envious! But Will is a very agreeable man, and I think any girl would be fortunate to call him husband!’

Annabella could not but agree. A chill touched her at the thought of the lucky girl who would do so. Some female relative of James Mullineaux…a highly suitable alliance between two of the county’s illustrious families…
Surely
Alicia would have told her about this! But perhaps not, if she knew it would upset her sister.

‘Was the name of the lady mentioned?’ she asked Amy, as casually as she was able. Amy wrinkled up her small nose.

‘Not precisely, but I did hear Will remark later that Lord Mullineaux had said that a cousin of his was coming to stay at Oxenham, a Miss Shawcross, who I believe currently lives with his sister in Worcestershire.’

Miss Shawcross. Annabella bit viciously into her third scone and decided that she disliked the sound of her intensely. Amy, quite unaware of the trouble she had caused, regretfully refused Annabella’s offer of a second cup of tea.

‘I should be going back to Challen before the light fades,’ she said anxiously. ‘The autumn evenings close in so fast here, and I fear there may be footpads in these hills!’

Miss Frensham, who had been dozing in her chair in the warm sunshine, now woke up with a start.

‘Oh, no, my dear Mrs Weston, I have not heard of any such thing! I am persuaded that Lord Mullineaux
would never have let us come here if there had been the slightest chance…Oh, dear!’

Annabella, finding herself out of sorts with both her visitor and her companion, was seized by a malicious impulse.

‘I believe Serena Linley’s coach was stopped by a highwayman on the Lambourn road only last week,’ she said sweetly and entirely untruthfully. ‘She said that it was most exciting!’

Miss Frensham looked up at the hills and shivered histrionically. ‘Upon my word, we continue to live in very lawless times!’

‘Did the villain take anything?’ Amy enquired, looking round a little nervously.

Annabella shrugged. She was already regretting the whim that had prompted her to tell such a story, for no doubt Will Weston would hear of it now and put her down as a troublemaker. Still…

‘Only a kiss, I believe,’ she said lightly.

Miss Frensham gave an outraged gasp but there was a definite twinkle in Amy’s eyes.

‘Well, that could be quite fun!’ she said brightly, and left Annabella with the impression that they might, after all, become friends.

Annabella spent the next couple of days helping Susan to make butter and cheese in the Larkswood dairy. They were fairly self-sufficient, for Lark Farm kept them supplied with the items they could not grow or make for themselves and Owen Linton frequently travelled to market and would undertake a commission for his neighbours in return for a melting look from Susan’s brown eyes. Annabella had found her
self being drawn more and more into the household activities. She had never had the running of a household before, for her father had paid all the bills when she and Francis were first married, and after that she had always been a pensioner in someone else’s home. It was strangely enjoyable to make plans with Susan, who was proving a capable manager and a staunch ally.

Even more pleasant was the prospect of a change of scene and some different company. Alicia had written to invite her sister to stay at Oxenham for a few days, with a view to going to the Faringdon Goose Fair. Annabella grasped the opportunity eagerly. Whilst she did not regret staking her claim to Larkswood, she imagined she might turn into a mad recluse if she never went into the outside world at all and had no fresh entertainment. Perhaps, she thought, churning the butter with unnecessary violence, the fortunate Miss Shawcross would be of their party…

Both Susan and Owen Linton frowned when Annabella borrowed a horse and told them she was off for a ride in the hills on her own that afternoon. Neither of them told her she should not ride alone, although Susan looked as though she would have liked to have done so. Their expressions were so reminiscent of disapproving parents that Annabella almost laughed. As she set off up the track to Lambourn she remembered Will’s comments a few nights ago and reflected that most people found independent women uncomfortable. She knew that most of her acquaintance thought it odd in the extreme that she had chosen to live on her own at Larkswood, and clearly believed her to be an eccentric. Neither Alicia nor James
had tried to dissuade her from living there, but Annabella sometimes wondered whether this was not because they approved but because they wanted her to realise for herself that it did not suit her. Shrugging, she encouraged the horse to a gallop across the rolling chalk down.

There were some ancient standing stones which stood close to the track on the top of the hill. Annabella stopped to consider the view, picking out Larkswood nestling in its hollow, and beyond it in the distance the villages of Challen, Oxenham and the others that dotted the flat valley floor. She dismounted, and hitched her horse’s rein over a fence post whilst she looked at the ancient stones. They were not particularly impressive for many were leaning or tumbled into the field, covered with mosses and lichens, yet there was something peaceful about the spot that made Annabella sit down in the long grass with her back to one sun-warmed stone, and contemplate the scene. Before her, a field of late poppies bobbed and swayed in the light breeze like a shifting red scarf between the heads of corn. Annabella’s eyes closed.

She was not sure how long she dozed for, or what had woken her, though she thought she had felt movement nearby. A skylark was twittering away up above her head and as she opened her eyes, a shadow fell across her and blotted out the sun. For a moment she was gripped by panic, but almost immediately she recognised the newcomer.

‘Oh!’ She struggled to sit upright. ‘You startled me, sir! Whatever are you doing here?’

Will Weston straightened up from where he was leaning against a nearby stone, and viewed Anna
bella’s prone figure with amusement mixed with appreciation. ‘I would hope that I am protecting you from footpads and highwaymen,’ he said dryly.

Annabella’s face flamed. She scrambled to her feet. ‘Oh, she told you! It was only in jest—’

‘I am more concerned that you choose to go riding alone,’ Will said, ‘and that you then fall asleep in the middle of nowhere! You are not very wise, are you, Mrs St Auby, despite what I said to you the other night!’

Annabella raised her chin. She knew that he was right, but unfortunately it only brought out the worst in her. ‘I was in no danger,’ she said hotly.

‘Really?’ Will stepped closer. ‘There may not be highwaymen in these hills any more, Mrs St Auby, but it is no sensible thing to go out alone. I wonder that you dare to live at Larkswood, to all intents and purposes remote from civilisation…’

‘But you intended it as a home for Mrs Weston,’ Annabella reminded him in honeyed tones, ‘so you must have considered it suitable then.’

She saw a smile touch Will’s mouth. ‘Very true, and quite right of you to remind me! It would not have served for Amy at all. Well…’ he stepped back to allow her to pass him and regain the path ‘…I am glad to see that you are thriving at Larkswood. I am for Lambourn, for I visit the Linleys this evening. I should be on my way.’ But he did not move, and his thoughtful gaze travelled over Annabella slowly and unreadably, appearing to linger on her flushed face and bright, tumbled hair.

Annabella found herself suffering a constriction in her breathing. She tried to steady herself.

‘How did you know I was here?’ she asked, a little breathlessly.

‘I saw you riding up the hill.’ Will’s voice had dropped. There was suddenly something oddly intimate about the stone circle, the heat pulsing off the ancient stones, the skylarks twittering in the bright arch of the blue sky. Annabella swallowed, her throat dry. An intense longing for the golden happiness of Mundell, before Larkswood and the rest had driven a wedge between them, took hold of her as though she was in a vice. Their eyes met and held as the tension spun out between them.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ Will said harshly, stepping back with such recoil that Annabella felt shocked. There was more violence in his tone than she at first understood, but then she remembered that he was an affianced man now—or as good as such. Crimson with mortification at the thought that her face had betrayed her longing for him, she turned away hastily, caught her foot in the hem of her riding habit and stumbled against one of the stones. She scored her hand painfully on its roughened surface as she tried to break her fall.

‘Oh!’ She stared at the red weal as it came up on her skin, the desire to cry so ridiculously out of proportion to the injury. She looked up into Will’s face and from there it was suddenly an easy step into his arms, and he was kissing her with a violence that was both terrifying and tender as the tears dried on her hot cheeks, and he drew her down into the grass in the shelter of the stone circle.

Their passion rose to consume them with a force only intensified by its long denial. Will’s lips were
hard and bruising, but Annabella only pressed closer, revelling in their demand and the suppressed violence of his need for her, their need for each other. Her lips parted and opened beneath the pressure of his. The taste and the feel of him filled her senses. Neither of them said a word.

The urgency between them was inexpressibly exciting. Will’s imperative fingers unfastened Annabella’s riding habit to reveal the flimsy chemise beneath. Annabella’s breasts were rising and falling rapidly with her fevered breathing, her nipples taut against the fine material. Will caught his breath, almost ripping the fabric aside so that his mouth could take one rosy tip in his mouth. Annabella gasped, her hands tracing an urgent path of their own over the hard muscles of his back, delving under his jacket and shirt to feel the delicious smoothness of his skin. All fear had gone, all thoughts of Francis and the undignified, painful act that he had inflicted on her. All she wanted now, at once, was the exquisite conclusion of such delicious pleasure.

Will’s mouth had returned to hers, its explicit demand making clear that he wanted it too. Every yielding line of Annabella’s body was pressed against his as he forced her back against the stone. The warmth of the sun, combined with the burning in her blood created a feeling of languorous abandonment. Then Will’s grip eased abruptly and he moved away from her.

‘Forgive me…I should not…’

‘Oh!’ Annabella was bewildered for a moment. Dazed by the intoxication of her senses, she was slow to understand that he had withdrawn from her. She
opened her eyes reluctantly. The sky above her head was still bright, the sun still shone, the grass tickled her skin…And Will was supposed to be marrying a certain Miss Shawcross.