A Christmas Courtship (16 page)

‘Sir Edmund?’

He looked at her. ‘I hope I didn’t hurt you too much, Miss Amberley.’

‘It was nothing, Sir Edmund. Has the pain passed now?’

‘Almost.’

‘Is it really right that you should still be enduring such….’

‘My doctors all inform me that my recovery will be tiresome and tedious, but that in the end I will be restored to my former self.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’m touched at your concern, Miss Amberley, and since you are at the moment so flatteringly anxious on my behalf, I shall take wicked advantage and press yet again for an answer to a question which is bothering me a great deal. Will you
please
tell me what is wrong in your life? Don’t attempt to fob me off with Mortimer, for it won’t wash. There’s something else, and I wish to help if I can.’

‘This isn’t fair, Sir Edmund….’

‘It isn’t meant to be. As I said, I’m taking advantage.’

‘There isn’t anything you can do,’ she replied frankly, meeting his gaze.

‘Allow me to be the judge of that.’

She drew a long breath. ‘I simply can’t confide in you, Sir Edmund,’ she said quietly.

‘So you will not even give me the opportunity to assist if I can?’

She’d offended him, she could see it in his eyes. She felt she had to say something, but what? Inspiration came from nowhere. ‘Have you heard of the Amberley pendant, Sir Edmund?’

‘The pendant? Why, yes, I believe it is depicted in the portrait of Queen Elizabeth in the great hall at Amberley Court.’

‘Yes, it is. Well, it’s been in our possession for the past two years, but now I’m afraid we have to sell it, and I’m very upset
about it.’ There was nothing untrue in what she said.

‘You
have
to sell it?’

‘Yes. You’re right to think that something is wrong, Sir Edmund, for there is a family crisis, and the price it will fetch will solve the problem. Please don’t ask me what the crisis is.’

He sat back, studying her. ‘It must indeed be a crisis, for I imagine that pendant will bring in a goodly sum.’

‘Eight hundred and fifty guineas,’ she said.

‘Who is purchasing it?’

‘Mr Gilbey, the Gloucester jeweler. At least….’

‘Yes?’

‘We hope that he will purchase it for that sum. He’s offered it in the past.’

‘There is some doubt now?’

She smiled a little. ‘Mr Gilbey is nothing if not a shrewd man of business, Sir Edmund, and he will know that we are in dire straits to be at last prepared to part with the pendant. It isn’t beyond the bounds of possibility that he will reduce his offer accordingly, in the hope of acquiring it for as little as possible.’

He was silent for a moment. ‘Is it a matter of urgency, Miss Amberley?’

‘Yes. Jake is going to Gloucester today, and if Mr Gilbey is not available, then he will go again tomorrow.’

‘And there is absolutely no doubt that the pendant must be sold?’

‘No doubt at all.’

‘Would you consider selling it to me?’

‘To you?’ She stared at him in surprise.

‘Yes. It so happens that I have such a sum in my possession at Amberley Court, because I was intending to commission an item of jewelry for Athena’s wedding gift, and the jeweler in Worcester that I intended to approach is a man who deals only in cash, never in anything else.’

‘You would like the pendant to give to Lady Hetherington on your wedding?’

‘It would seem ideal, don’t you agree?’

Ideal? She hated the thought, but no matter what her personal feelings were, she knew it was an offer she did not dare to refuse,
for it would mean removing all doubt about the acquisition of the all-important note. She gave a small smile. ‘Yes, Sir Edmund, it would indeed be ideal.’

He returned the smile. ‘It is settled then, and since there is this urgency, I am more than prepared to complete the purchase today. Will it be in order for me to come to Orchard Cottage this afternoon?’

‘Sir Edmund…?’

‘Yes?’

‘Did you say that Lady Hetherington will be in Gloucester all day with her brother?’

‘Yes.’

‘I was wondering …’ She colored, for what she wished to ask was a little presumptuous. ‘Sir Edmund, I haven’t been inside Amberley Court for two years, and I still love it so much. Would it be possible for me to bring the pendant to you?’

He drew her hand to his lips. ‘By all means, Miss Amberley, by all means.’

Wearing her riding habit and black beaver hat, Blanche stood by the parlor fire watching her father as he gazed upon the pendant for the last time. His face was sad as he ran his fingertips over the magnificent balas rubies.

‘To think that they came all the way from ancient Afghanistan,’ he murmured. ‘I have often wondered about their history. Who possessed them first? How did they come to England?’ With a heavy sigh, he folded the square of purple velvet again, and turned to give it to her. ‘I wish it was going to grace a more endearing person than Lady Hetherington, who, from what you tell me, seems to be a cat of the first order.
However
, beggars cannot be choosers, as they say.’

She put the folded velvet into her reticule, and then picked up her riding crop from the table. ‘I will not be long, but I mean to ride to the church before returning here. The stone must be ready on the wall when Mr Baxter goes there after dark.’

He nodded. ‘Take care, my dear, for I don’t like the thought of you riding in the snow. I know you’re a more than competent rider, but I still worry about you. I worried when you rode to Eastington….’

She went to him, hugging him tightly. ‘Jonathan will be here with us tonight, so you must think about that instead of getting in a bother in case I take a tumble into a snowdrift.’

Then she left, going out into the back yard where Jake was waiting with the good horse, her own stile being lame. With her reticule looped safely over her wrist, she rode away from Orchard Cottage, across the road toward the armorial gates. The lodgekeeper had been warned to expect her, and came to open
the gates immediately, touching his cap as she passed.

‘Good afternoon, Miss Amberley.’

‘Good afternoon, Edwards.’

She felt his pensive gaze following her as she commenced the long ride along the curving driveway. A thick fringe of laurel and rhododendrons lined the way, while above towered the grand fir trees that had been planted in her grandfather’s time. She caught a glimpse of the herd of deer, fleeing away through the snow as they saw her. The peacocks’ calls drifted on the cold air, growing louder the closer she came to the house. At last she reached the edge of the trees, and the open park stretched away before her toward Amberley Court itself. She reined in, gazing at the house that had been her family’s home for centuries.

Amberley Court was a fine Tudor mansion, built of stone from an earlier building, for a medieval castle had once stood in this spot. Half-timbered on its upper stories, it possessed a gabled, rambling roof and latticed casement windows, some of them startingly elegant and large. There was a jutting stone porch supported on thick stone columns, and the drive led onto a terrace, in front of which was the sunken garden that was one of the few perfect examples left in the country of a true Tudor garden.

Urging her horse on along the snowy drive, Blanche feasted her eyes upon the house. Oh, how much she still loved it, and how deeply she yearned to live there again. She’d stifled her feelings for two long years, not once attempting to see it, even though she lived so near, but suddenly, those feelings couldn’t be stifled anymore. She missed Amberley Court with all her heart, and now, with the advent of Lady Hetherington, another woman was going to be its mistress.

The drive curved around the sunken garden, where the deep snow obscured the little paths and the herb and flower beds, with their low, neatly-clipped hedges. The topiary trees and shrubs rose like iced chess pieces around the central foundation, where in summer the sunlight shimmered on dancing water at the feet of a stone nymph. The nymph looked cold now, her face cast forlornly down toward the frozen pool.

As Blanche reined in by the porch, the door opened and the
butler, Evans, emerged. He’d been there when she’d resided in the house, and he smiled warmly as he beckoned to a following footman to take the reins of her horse.

‘Welcome home, Miss …’ He broke off in some confusion. ‘I beg your pardon, Miss Amberley, I meant to say, welcome to Amberley Court,’ he said more correctly.

‘Thank you, Evans,’ she replied, dismounting.

He smiled again. He was a round-faced Welshman,
middle-aged
and capable, and, with Hannah’s equally capable
assistance
, he’d always seen to the perfect running of the household. He wore his customary garb, a plain but well-cut gray coat, a cream wool waistcoat, gray breeches, and buckled black shoes. His hair had receded to virtually nothing, and so he wore a gray powdered wig that was tied back with a black satin ribbon.

Before he showed her into the house, he paused for a moment, lowering his voice so that no one else could possibly hear what he said. ‘Begging your pardon again, Miss Amberley, but I wish to say how very, very sorry I am to hear all that is being said about Master Jonathan.’

She was caught off guard. ‘I-I beg your pardon?’

‘I know that I should not be so forward as to mention such a thing to you, Miss Amberley, but I was in your family’s employ for many years, and I still feel a deep loyalty to you. It grieved me greatly when I first heard the whispers about some soldiers coming to search Orchard Cottage, and then when the rumors circulating Gloucester reached my ears as well, I was outraged that such iniquitous things should be spread concerning an
officer
and a gentleman as honorable as Master Jonathan.’

‘Thank you, Evans.’ So the rumors
had
reached the house, and yet Sir Edmund apparently knew nothing? She looked curiously at the butler. ‘Evans, does Sir Edmund know…?’

‘He has not been informed, Miss Amberley, I’ve seen to that. There did not seem to me to be any necessity whatsoever to inform him about the matter, and out of loyalty to your family, I issued strict instructions to the staff here that nothing was to be said about it either to Sir Edmund or to Lady Hetherington directly, or in their hearing. I know Master Jonathan well enough to be absolutely sure that he would never be guilty of the things
of which he’s accused, and so I refuse to be party in any way to the further spreading of such scandalous untruths.’

So that was how Sir Edmund had remained so strangely in ignorance. The mystery was solved. She smiled at the butler. ‘Thank you, Evans. I know my brother will be deeply touched when he learns of your steadfastness.’

‘Justice will be done, Miss Amberley, I’m certain of that. And now, if you will please come this way…?’ He bowed, and turned to lead her into the house that she hadn’t set foot inside for two long years.

She stepped into the vast, vaulted entrance hall, where her ancestor had once entertained Queen Elizabeth and the court with a banquet so lavish that it had virtually ruined him. It was a splendidly baronial chamber, with richly carved oak panels adorning the walls from floor to ceiling and a high hammerbeam roof graced by lions’ heads. The floor was tiled in red, black, and green, and there were two immense stone fireplaces, their surrounds painted in the same original Tudor colors. A long table ranged down the center of the floor, its gleaming dark surface so highly polished that it reflected the firelight as well as the spangled shades of color from the daylight piercing the stained glass windows.

Tapestries of exquisite beauty hung against the walls, and suits of armor stood in recesses by the windows that faced over the front of the house, affording a fine view of the park. There were window seats with cushions of tapestry, and the curtains were of heavy, dark green velvet that brought out the varying greens of the Christmas foliage that had been garlanded
everywhere
.

Her glance moved instinctively toward the grand staircase, which rose up between newel posts of lions guarding shields that sported Tudor emblems, from the red rose of Lancaster to the portcullis of Henry VII. The staircase divided into two at a half-landing, the branches rising symmetrically to the galleried floor above. At the half-landing, set in spectacular isolation to gaze regally down over the entire hall, was the portrait of Queen Elizabeth.

Clad in a fabulously rich gown of golden brocade with an
ornate gilded ruff, the red-haired queen was a strangely delicate figure, for all her formidable reputation. Her thin pointed face was a mask of white makeup, and her waist was so small that a man’s fingers could surely have encircled it. Jewels adorned her hair, and strings of large pearls were around her neck, but it was the Amberley pendant that her slender, beringed fingers touched. The rubies and pearls were exactly reproduced, every detail precise and faithful, and even the chain seemed to be the correct length, each link painted with painstaking diligence.

‘Welcome to Amberley Court, Miss Amberley,’ said a voice from the far end of the hall, and she turned quickly to see Sir Edmund standing in the doorway of the grand chamber, by which superior name the room that had long been used as the principal drawing room was known.

The spurs on his shining Hessian boots rang as he crossed the tiled floor toward her, his uniformed figure strikingly dramatic in the light from one of the fireplaces as he passed it. He smiled at her. ‘I trust you are satisfied that the house has been well cared for since you left?’

‘Of course.’ She gazed around again. ‘It’s a very beautiful house, isn’t it?’ she murmured.

He nodded. ‘Yes, it is.’

Her lips trembled suddenly, and she turned almost brightly to face him. ‘Perhaps we’d better proceed with the purpose of my visit, Sir Edmund, before I commit the unforgiveable sin of bursting into tears.’

‘I thought perhaps you’d like to see over the entire house, now that you’ve at last graced its portals with your presence again.’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t think I could do that, Sir Edmund, or I would indeed start to cry.’

‘I have a very sympathetic shoulder.’

‘I’m sure you do, Sir Edmund, but it wouldn’t be my place to weep upon it,’ she replied quietly.

He smiled. ‘My shoulder is mine to offer where I will, Miss Amberley, but if the thought of requiring such a support is disagreeable, perhaps we should simply adjourn to the grand chamber?’ He turned, gesturing toward the doorway.

Gathering the skirts of her riding habit, she walked toward it,
and he followed a few steps behind. He paused in the doorway. ‘Evans, will you serve some tea directly?’

‘Yes, Sir Edmund.’

The grand chamber was much more intimate than its name suggested. It was a long, low room with paneled walls and a coffered ceiling of exquisitely decorated plasterwork. Chandeliers of great age shone in the firelight, for in spite of the size of the immense oriel window at the far end of the room, very little daylight penetrated the small, uneven panes.

‘Please be seated, Miss Amberley,’ said Sir Edmund, escorting her to a tapestry-cushioned carved wooden chair by the fire.

She did as she was bade, placing her reticule on her lap.

He paused for a moment. ‘I trust you will not be offended if I decline to sip tea with you, but I find it washy stuff and would prefer a cognac.’

‘Please, sir, feel at liberty to do as you please; it is, after all, your house.’

He went to a small table, and picked up a crystal decanter, but before pouring himself a glass, he looked at her again. ‘Miss Amberley, I trust that this will not be your sole visit to the house.’

‘I fear it must be, Sir Edmund, for Lady Hetherington will not wish to find me on her doorstep.’

‘I would like you to call.’

She looked at him. ‘Thank you, Sir Edmund, but your kind invitation cannot be accepted. The last thing I would wish to do would be to cause any further friction between you and her ladyship.’

He poured the glass of cognac. ‘And so I must forfeit your friendship?’

‘I’m sure it will not be a great sacrifice for you, sir,’ she replied with a faint smile.

‘On the contrary, Miss Amberley, it will be a very great
sacrifice
indeed.’

She looked at him again. ‘I cannot believe that, sir, flattering as it is to me.’

He sat down opposite her, his long legs stretched out. The glass swirled in his hand as he gazed into the fire. ‘I wish things
were not as they are, Miss Amberley; indeed, I’ve come to wish a great deal in recent days.’

‘You must not let a few arguments and misunderstandings sour your relationship with Lady Hetherington.’

‘Misunderstandings?’ He gave a slight laugh. ‘Would that it were that simple. Miss Amberley….’ He broke off with some irritation, for at that moment Evans tapped at the door and ushered in a maid with a tray of tea.

The tray was placed on a small table, which the butler carried to put next to Blanche. ‘Do you wish me to pour for you, Miss Amberley?’ he asked.

‘Yes, if you please, Evans.’

He poured the tea from the silver teapot, and then placed a slice of lemon in the cup. ‘Will there be anything else, Sir Edmund?’

‘No, that will be all,’ came the somewhat clipped response. The butler and the maid withdrew rather hastily, closing the door behind them.

Blanche picked up her cup and saucer. ‘You were about to say, Sir Edmund?’

‘Was I? Oh, I forget what pearl of wisdom was about to slip from my lips, Miss Amberley,’ he replied, his tone conveying to her that he hadn’t forgotten at all, but had decided against saying whatever had been in his mind. He rose to his feet,
resting
a hand on the mantelpiece and looking down into the
glowing
heart of the fire. ‘Do you regret your friendship with Mortimer?’ he asked suddenly.

‘Yes.’

‘And yet you once thought you loved him enough to marry him?’

‘Yes.’

He gave a wry half-laugh. ‘What a fickle thing the heart can be,’ he murmured.

‘Sometimes things happen to shatter all one’s illusions, Sir Edmund, and when those illusions go, there’s nothing left.’

His blue eyes swung toward her. ‘I know that only too well, Miss Amberley,’ he said softly.

She met his gaze in puzzlement, wondering what he was
referring to. Whatever it was, he had no intention of elaborating, that was for sure.

He drained his glass and went to replace it on the table by the decanter. ‘To business, Miss Amberley,’ he said almost briskly. ‘May I see the pendant?’