Nicola Cornick (5 page)

‘Do I take it then, sir, that you actually require a response to your impertinent and intrusive question?’ she asked coldly.

‘Certainly,’ Sir William responded, with equal coolness. ‘That is why I asked the question! I shall not take you back otherwise!’

Bright flags of colour flew in Annabella’s cheeks at this effrontery.

‘Very well, sir! You will have your answer! No doubt it will give you immense gratification to know that your suspicions are well founded! I married Francis St Auby to escape my father’s plans for me, for he did indeed have a suitor in mind! There was a business associate of his, a man of similar stamp to Alicia’s first husband, albeit a little younger and a little less fat—and no doubt likely to live longer! Everyone thought that I loved Francis, but the truth is that I bought my husband with the promise of my fortune, and I did it simply to run away from the alternative! I had too much pride to let people see that my marriage was a sham, but I lived with that truth for the whole of my married life!’ She stopped, her eyes bright with angry animation, her cheeks a vivid, becoming pink.

There was a silence. ‘It was uncivil of me to push you so far, ma’am,’ Sir William said, still watching her intently, ‘but I find I cannot regret it. Do you wish to tell me more?’

Annabella sat staring at him. She was astonished to find that she did indeed want to tell him more: the truth about her marriage, her estrangement from Alicia, the indignities of her life in the St Auby household—words jostled with each other in her head, willing her to spill them out and tell him everything—but the conventional part of her was utterly appalled at her behaviour. One instinct was prompting her to let the whole sorry story tumble out with the artless confidence of a child, but the self-control she had learned in a hard school was asking her how she could be so foolish as to trust a complete stranger. And as she stared at him in bafflement, she heard Sir William swear under his breath and pick up the reins, making to turn the horses.

‘No, wait!’ Annabella put a hand on his arm, suddenly desperate not to lose the opportunity of the moment.

‘There is a mail coach coming, Mrs St Auby,’ Sir William said abruptly. ‘I cannot leave the curricle in the middle of the road!’

Annabella’s face flamed. She shrank back into the corner of her seat, trying to make herself as small as possible as Sir William turned the curricle neatly and pulled over to the side of the road as the posthorn blared. The coach thundered past, throwing up the choking dust in its path, and they were left in silence. The moment for confidences was gone. Suddenly it did not seem such a beautiful day.

‘I am sorry,’ Annabella said hesitantly, uncertain what the apology was for, but moved to make it anyway. She saw the tense lines of Sir William’s face ease a little.

‘Not at all, ma’am. You have nothing with which to reproach yourself.’ He smiled reassuringly and took her hand in a warm clasp, which had a far from reassuring effect. Annabella felt her pulse rate increase. ‘I forgot your relative youth,’ Sir William continued, ‘and I am trying to go too far, too fast, which is not a mistake I make often! Now—’ his tone changed ‘—shall we take tea at Mundell, or do you prefer to go straight back to Taunton?’

Annabella, who had not understood his comment, was tempted to go straight home to nurse her humiliation, but then found herself torn by the wish to prolong her time in Sir William’s company. She frowned.

‘Tea at Mundell would be very nice,’ she ventured.

‘Very well.’ There was nothing but a brisk agreement in his voice. Annabella’s fragile confidence shrivelled a little more. Oh, how could she have acted like such a little ninny? She shuddered as she remembered her ingenuous comments about starting the circulating library. How could she have imagined that such a man, with his wide and sophisticated experience of the world, would have the slightest interest in her parochial plans? And then, how could she have overreacted so when he had asked her about her marriage to Francis? She had about as much notion of how to go on as a five-year-old!

As she sat silently beside him, Sir William Weston was also thinking about his conversation with Anna
bella, though perhaps in terms that would have surprised her. In common with all their friends, he had heard of Alicia Mullineaux’s estrangement from her sister and the widely accepted view that Annabella had more of her grasping, materialistic father in her than was at all acceptable. He had been both surprised and intrigued to find her so inexperienced and unspoilt, when he had expected to meet a brass-faced harpy, old beyond her years. He had quickly seen the miserable torment caused by Lady St Auby, and had been determined to help Annabella if he could. That his motives sprang from something other than altruism, he was prepared to admit at once, for he had no time for self-delusion. A man of action, accustomed to rapidly sum up a situation and make a decision, he had known almost immediately that he would pursue his interest in Annabella St Auby.

He glanced sideways at her averted face, her expression unreadable in the shadow cast by her bonnet’s brim. She was deliberately keeping her head tilted away from him, as though embarrassed by their recent exchange. Sir William smiled to himself a little, wondering if she had any idea how desirable she looked, how that air of innocent aloofness was at once both part innocent and part alluring. He was tempted to stop and kiss her, partly to see how she would react, but mostly just for the pleasure of feeling that sweet, pink mouth beneath his own…They had reached the gates of Mundell Hall. Will Weston gave himself a mental shake and concentrated hard on the complicated business of driving the curricle through the gateway with inch-perfect precision.

When Annabella saw Viscount Mundell’s guests taking tea beneath a huge tented pavilion on the green lawns, she almost regretted the impulse that had led her to agree to Sir William’s suggestion. Lord and Lady Wallace were not present, but the rest of Mundell’s guests of the previous night were there, and looking so privileged, so immaculately
ton
nish, that Annabella felt both drab and dusty.

‘Courage, Mrs St Auby!’ Sir William had taken her elbow and was giving her an encouraging smile. ‘You look delightful, you are charming company and—they are really quite friendly, you know!’

Annabella smiled despite herself. Strange, she thought, that her discomfort appeared to have communicated itself almost immediately to this most enigmatic of men. Even stranger to her was the fact that he was concerned enough to wish to reassure her. Her heart lightened a little.

They crossed the lawn to join the party, and Annabella immediately saw the scornful amusement in Miss Hurst’s eyes as she surveyed the worn red dress and the unsophisticated plait. Miss Hurst herself was dressed in crisp pink and white candystripe, her hair an artful creation of tangled curls. Before her on the table was a sketching pad showing a water-colour drawing of the gardens and the distant church spire. It was quite beautiful. But one gift Miss Hurst lacked was the gift of generosity, and as Annabella and Sir William reached them, she drew her chair very carefully towards Miss Mundell, effectively excluding Annabella from the circle. It was Caroline Kilgaren who moved to make room for her at the table.

‘Sir William!’ Miss Hurst cooed, as though she had
just seen them for the first time. ‘Pray come and sit by me! We have been desolate without your company!’ And she gave him a melting look through her eyelashes. Sir William seemed unmoved, but he sat down next to her all the same. So that was how the land lay, Annabella thought. A small spark of rebelliousness caught in her and began to burn.

More tea was brought and poured.

‘Did you enjoy your drive?’ Caroline Kilgaren enquired, with a friendly smile. ‘You are very favoured, you know, for Sir William is accounted a notable whip, and seldom takes anybody up! And I imagine this countryside is beautiful to drive through—’

Before Annabella could answer, Miss Hurst had intervened, yawning ostentatiously. ‘Lud, but the country is so slow! Bath and Cheltenham may be tolerable, I suppose, but Taunton! Why, did you see the clothes last night?’ Her malicious brown eyes dwelt on Annabella’s faded red dress again. ‘I declare, some of those coats last night cannot have been fashionable since my father’s day! And as for country manners, did you hear the way Sir Thomas Oakston addressed us last night? Not an ounce of finesse—’

‘I’m surprised you stay in the country so long if you dislike it, Ermina,’ Sir William observed, in a lazy drawl. His gaze moved from Miss Hurst to Viscount Mundell and paused thoughtfully. Miss Hurst reddened unattractively. Annabella began to wonder if Sir William had in fact told the truth when he had said that his friends found it hard to bear with him.

‘Oh, Sir William, how you do tease!’ Miss Hurst had decided to be arch. ‘But I shall punish you later! A duel at the butts, perhaps?’

The archery butts were set some distance away across the lawn, and a bow was propped up behind Miss Hurst’s chair. Another of her accomplishments, Annabella thought, with a private smile, surprised to find that the evidence of Miss Hurst’s achievements was starting to amuse her rather than make her feel inadequate. Sir William picked up the sketching pad and viewed it pensively.

‘This is exquisite, Charlotte,’ he said to Miss Mundell. ‘Should Hugo ever fall on hard times, you will be able to keep him through your artist’s skill!’

Miss Mundell blushed and disclaimed whilst Miss Hurst flounced, disliking the attention of the group being distracted from her. She turned to Annabella.

‘Do you have any skill with the bow, Mrs St Auby?’

Annabella shook her head slowly, her mouth full of plum cake. For a moment she was tempted to speak with her mouth full and display her deplorable country manners.

‘I regret I do not, Miss Hurst!’

‘A pity!’ The brown eyes were sharp now. ‘But perhaps you have other accomplishments? Your sister, Lady Mullineaux, plays the piano exquisitely. Do you have the same talent?’

Annabella was beginning to feel like a scientific specimen, but was determined not to let this fashion-plate intimidate her. All Miss Hurst’s conversation seemed aimed at disparagement.

‘I fear I do not play well,’ she said solemnly, ignoring the fact that she had a very pretty singing voice and could accompany herself perfectly well. ‘I have
no accomplishments, Miss Hurst—I have no skill with a needle and I draw very ill.’

Miss Hurst, missing the look of covert amusement Will Weston exchanged with Marcus Kilgaren, looked scandalised. ‘My dear Mrs St Auby! But then I dare say such accomplishments are not regarded in your circle! More commercial pursuits—’ she put just the right hint of doubt into her tone ‘—must be valued higher!’

‘Oh, indeed, ma’am!’ Annabella was all sweetness now. ‘My father taught me how to barter at an early age! And I can estimate the value of a cargo of sugar cane—’ She broke off, seeing Sir William’s bright gaze resting upon her thoughtfully.

‘Unusual talents are so much more interesting, are they not?’ Marcus Kilgaren came to Annabella’s rescue. ‘Why, Caro is a case in point!’ He smiled across the table at his wife. ‘Her father was a historian who did not hold with the notion that females should be beautiful but witless. Recognising Caroline’s potential and—’

‘And realising her brother Charles’s lack of it,’ Mundell put in dryly, to general laughter.

‘He taught her himself,’ Marcus finished. ‘Caro now has an encyclopaedic knowledge of medieval architecture which few could match!’

‘Have you visited Stogursey Church, Mrs St Auby?’ Caroline Kilgaren asked, leaning forward eagerly. ‘It is a very fine example of—’

Miss Hurst yawned again. ‘I fear my father never instilled in me anything so fascinating,’ she interrupted, with a wearisome look that robbed the words of any sincerity. ‘He considered that skill in music,
needlework and drawing were the true measure of an educated woman!’ She smiled complacently. ‘I am happy to feel that I have not disappointed him!’

Annabella was startled to discover in herself a strong temptation to empty the contents of the teapot over Miss Hurst’s perfectly coiffed head. She saw Marcus Kilgaren turn away to hide a grin, then Mundell said coolly,

‘Surely, Miss Hurst, you would include gracious conversation and an informed mind on your list of prerequisites?’

‘Oh, the art of conversation, perhaps!’ Miss Hurst waved one white hand, as if to suggest that she had a natural talent that required no practice. ‘And an informed mind, as long as one did not have to study too hard…such bookishness is not at all attractive! Lud, I do not believe I have picked up a book from one month end to the next!’

Annabella thought that she heard Caroline Kilgaren snort with disgust. Her gaze moved on to Miss Mundell, whose head was bent over precisely the type of embroidery that would win Miss Hurst’s praise. Where Miss Hurst was surprisingly opinionated for her years, Miss Mundell was silent and in obvious awe of her friend. She had said very little, apart from a subdued greeting and her confused disclaimer over Sir William’s compliment, and appeared to be a fashionable cipher. Annabella guessed that both young women were close to her own age, but seldom had she felt she had less in common with her contemporaries.

Conversation around the table became general again. Caroline Kilgaren turned back to Annabella.

‘Mrs St Auby,’ she said in an undertone, ‘since our conversation last night I have become even more concerned to help you heal the breach with Alicia. I considered writing to her at once, but wondered whether you would prefer to do so yourself? What do you think?’