Winter at Cray (15 page)

‘
I was obviously a bigger fool that I realised,
’
she said bitterly, her chin set at a defiant angle. She raised her eyes and looked at the man who was so much like her dead husband in every way, and realised for the first time that there was much more hardness than gentleness in the dark face and only avarice and shrewdness in those darkly beautiful eyes that had once attracted her so much. There was so much she disliked about the man and yet so much that was
Simon. If only she could have seen him in the same light all those years ago.

‘
You—
’
he began, and Louise lifted her chin, her eyes less daring than her manner, but determined to be firm.

‘
I should be an even bigger fool now, Mr. Dupont,
’
she declared,
‘
if I listened to you.
’

It was not the answer he had expected nor the one he wanted to hear, and she saw the dark eyes narrow wa
rn
ingly.
‘
Madame
—
’

Again she interrupted him before he could say more than one word.
‘
I don
’
t see what this boy has to do with me,
’
she told him, drawing encouragement both from the heady glow of the brandy and the gleam of approval she glimpsed in Jonathan Darrell
’
s eyes as he watched her.
‘
I
’
m not responsible for him even if he is Simon
’
s son.
’

Henri Dupont frowned.
‘
There are family obligations,
madame,
obligations one should meet.
’

‘
But why should I?
’
She wished fervently that Stephen would do something more than stand silent and rather sulky by the door as if he found the situation far too embarrassing for him to take part in.

The Frenchman looked as if he despaired of ever making such a fool see reason.
‘
But why not?
’
he asked.
‘
When my brother married you, he understood you to be of a wealthy family. He could have provided for his son and for his family, then he discovers that you are not wealthy, all you have is what you call an allowance from your papa. You have not the money he needs and you will not get it for him. He was cheated,
madame
, and so was his family.
’

There was such logic in his argument as he saw it that for a crazy moment Louise could almost agree with him; only Stephen was apparen
tl
y surprised by anything he said.
‘
You—you mean,
’
he gasped,
‘
that he married Louise for her money?
’
There was a
naiveté
in the question that struck an incongruous note and Louise glimpsed the gleam of derision in Jonathan Darrell
’
s eyes and flushed in resentment of it as if it had been directed at herself.

‘
But of course,
’
Henri Dupont agreed impatiently.
‘
Why else would he marry the English girl? There were plenty of pretty girls in France, in his own town, that he could have married. And if a man marries a wealthy wife is he not entitled to expect that he too will be wealthy?
Mais non!
She cheats him.
’

‘
He must have been even worse than I realised,
’
Stephen admitted, looking rather dazed at the revelation and coming out on her side openly for the first time.
‘
Louise, I
’
m sorry.
’
The apology was pedantic and possibly a little pompous, but Louise realised what it must have cost him to make it, particularly in front of Jonathan Darrell, and she was touched almost to the point of tears.

‘
No, please, Stephen.
’
She shook her head and even managed a half-smile so that he came and stood beside her, taking her hand in his.

‘
Something
’
s just occurred to me,
’
Jonathan
’
s voice startled Louise out of her momentary reverie. His eyes were fixed on the visitor thoughtfully and she thought Henri Dupont looked less confident as if he suspected what had just come to mind.
‘
Why is it so important suddenly to ask for money for this boy? It
’
s been years now since—well, since your brother died, so why have you waited so long?
’

He definitely looked discomfited, Louise thought, and the expressive eyes were hidden by lowered lids.
‘
There are reasons,
m
’
sieur
.’

‘
Obviously,
’
Jonathan agreed dryly,
‘
but what are they?
’

Henri Dupont seemed to find the steady gaze too much for him and he shifted uneasily from one foot to the other.
‘
There are conditions which—change,
’
he told him evasively.
‘
Things are different now.
’

‘
Mmm.
’
Louise looked up curiously at Jonathan
’s
face, thoughtful and speculative. A hasty glance at Stephen showed him curious too now that the question had been raised, but it was Jonathan who took the initiative. Typically high-handed, Louise thought, although she should have been grateful to him, she knew.

‘
I think you
’
d better go,
’
Jonathan told him, polite but quite firm, and the man stared at him in surprise, ready to protest.
‘
You
’
re staying with someone in the village
?’

The dark head nodded agreement.
‘
But I do not—
’

‘
If Miss Kincaid has anything further to say to you I
’
m sure she
’
ll contact you,
’
Jonathan went on blandly,
‘
now I think you
’
d better leave,
m
’
sieur.
You found it easier climbing the hill today, I expect, it
’
s much easier now that the ground has thawed a little
!’

‘
But—
’
the man attempted to protest.

‘I’ll
see you out,
’
Jonathan told him, and took his arm, leading him inexorably towards the door into the hall, while Louise could only stare after them, a sudden and inexplicable desire to laugh bubbling up inside her until it was dangerously close to making itself heard.

‘
But,
madame
—’
The dark eyes made one last plea, the slim hand spread in that expressive gesture again, but to no avail. Louise merely shook her head, the laughter hysterically seeking release so that she lowered her eyes to spare him the indignity of seeing it.

He was escorted swiftly and politely to the front door, taking up the hat he had arrived in, en route, then ushered down the steps and the door closed firmly and decisively behind him.

Coming back into the sitting-room a moment later, Jonathan looked quite bland and unperturbed and not a little pleased with himself although he did not smile when he spoke.
‘
He
’
s gone,
’
he assured Louise.

‘
He hadn
’
t much option, had he
?’
she asked, wishing the desire to laugh would subside and let her look as disapproving as she wished to, although she had to admit to relief at his action. It was most unsuitable in the circumstances and Jonathan Darrell had behaved with typical brashness. No matter how much she had wanted Henri Dupont to go, it had not been his place to order him out.

‘
You were pretty high-handed,
’
Stephen told him, his frown disapproving.
‘
Considering your position here, I mean, you had no right to take things into your own hands like that.
’

‘
Like what?
’
demanded Emma Kincaid
’
s sharp voice from the doorway, and Louise turned her head sharply. The old lady stood supported by Aunt Jessie
’
s arm under her elbow, her bright eyes taking in the group by the fireplace and missing nothing of the tension that filled the little room.

Louise was up quickly, her expression contrite.
‘
Oh, Great-gran, I
’
m sorry,
’
she told the old lady.
‘
I should have come for you, but I quite forgot the time.
’

‘
Otherwise engaged, no doubt
,’
Emma observed, glancing from one to the other of her companions.
‘
Well, come on, girl, tell me what
’
s been going on.
’

‘
Nothing really, Great-gran.
’
She realised it was little use trying to keep it from her, but at least she could try.

‘
You been fighting, you three?
’
the old lady guessed, and from her expression hoped it was true. She cackled her dry laugh when no one answered her.
‘
I like a good argument, they stimulate the brain.
’

‘
We haven
’
t
been
arguing, Great-gran,
’
Louise insisted, seating her in her customary chair.
‘
I
’
ll get your tea, darling, right away.
’

‘
Never mind the tea yet, you tell me what
’
s been going on down here first,
’
old Emma demanded stubbornly.
‘
I don
’
t like being kept in the dark about what
’
s going on in my own house. Jon—I thought I saw you with that strange Frenchman when I came downstairs.
’

Louise sighed resignedly and the old lady cackled delightedly at her expression.
‘
I don
’
t miss much,
’
she told her.
‘
I saw him when they were busy sneaking him into William
’
s room the other night, and I guessed he
’
d be back before very long when I sent him packing the other morning; he
’
s stubborn. Now, tell me what
’
s been going on.
’

‘
I—I think he wanted money, Great-gran,
’
Louise approached the matter cautiously and saw the old lady nod as if it was exactly what she had expected.

‘
Of course he did,
’
she said blandly.
‘
Did you give him any?
’

Louise looked startled.
‘
No—no, I didn
’
t.
’

‘
Good.
’
The old lady nodded approval.
‘
And h
e
just left without argument?
’
she asked with such blatant innocence that Louise flushed. She knows he didn
’
t, she thought, she knows but she wants to hear it from me. In that moment she realised too how much she was like the old lady.

Emma Kincaid would have laughed exactly as she had, to see the intruder ejected, but she would have been less reticent about showing her laughter, and applauded openly instead of suppressing it for fear of being misunderstood.

Remembering too the high-handed way Jonathan Darrell had escorted her unwelcome visitor from the house, she could almost see old Robert Kincaid at that age, seeing off some unwanted stranger while young Emma laughed at the man
’
s ignominious exit.

For a moment her own laughter bubbled dangerously near the surface again.
‘
No, Great-gran,
’
she said, serious-faced,
‘
Mr. Darrell threw him out
.’