A Kiss from the Heart (12 page)

He had been much looking forward to Miranda's company uninterrupted for the rest of the day and he had endured more than enough of Lady Waterton's prattle not to wish to have to eat luncheon with her.

“Miranda and I will be working through luncheon today, Mama,” said the Earl sharply. “We shall be eating together at one o'clock.”

The Countess drew herself up to her full height and her blue eyes were pools of ice.

“Very well, Stringer, take the tray away. My son and Miss Whitby will have luncheon later.”

She turned on her heel and spun out of the room.

“I am sorry – ” began Miranda.

“There is nothing to apologise for,” interrupted the Earl. “Mama was in the wrong.”

“She does not care for me.”

“You must ignore her. She does not like change. Now let me see this list of builders you have compiled.”

The next hour flew by. Stringer brought in their luncheon at one o'clock and they paused while they ate.

Before they both realised it, the clock in the hall was striking six.

“My goodness! Papa will be wondering what has happened to me!” exclaimed Miranda. “Will you have my carriage brought round, please?”

As the Earl escorted her outside, he could not resist taking her dainty hand. She had not remembered to put on her gloves and it felt wonderful in his.

“Until tomorrow, then,” he said in a low voice. His eyes burned into hers as he lingered over her hand.

“Yes,” she whispered a little hoarsely. “I will send your regards to Papa.”

They stared into each other's eyes and she slipped her hand from his.

She quickly climbed into her carriage and his heart twisted in two. How he wished she could remain at the Hall and dine with them!

Dinner that evening was as tedious as the previous evening.

His mother was cool towards him while he tried his best to ignore Lady Waterton.

Unable to face another evening of her chattering, as soon as pudding was over he rose from the table, claiming a headache.

“You are leaving so soon?” pouted Lady Waterton, her face falling with displeasure.

“I am best going straight to bed whenever one of my headaches threatens,” he explained, going over to kiss his mother goodnight. “And I have much to do tomorrow.”

“Perhaps you could take Lady Waterton for a drive in the afternoon,” suggested his mother.

“We shall see, Mama. I have so many appointments that it might not be possible. If I am not free, then perhaps Alec can accompany her.”

The Earl was aware as he left the room that a chilly atmosphere had descended.

But whilst he felt sorry for Alec, having to entertain the two women without him, he knew he could not himself endure it a moment longer.

*

Much later as the Hall settled and the servants slept soundly in their beds, a lone carriage was plunging along the road to Malvern at great speed.

“Faster! Faster!” shouted the occupant, who was in a great hurry to reach his destination.

He rapped impatiently on the roof of the carriage with his silver-topped cane. His face was contorted into a mask of fury with drops of spittle forming at the ends of his long handlebar moustache.

‘If she thinks she has escaped from me, she is so wrong!' he muttered, as the horses picked up speed along the flat, straight road.

‘
Very wrong
!'

It was really such a beautiful morning the next day that Miranda could not bear to travel in her stuffy carriage.

She told her father that she would walk to the Hall and set off early with a straw hat on her head to protect her from the sun's rays.

Although only eight o'clock, it was already warm and sultry. The sky was pure blue overhead without any clouds and Miranda sang to herself as she made her way across the fields.

If she had known that, just a few miles away in a hotel in Malvern, slept the man who had been the cause of her decision to leave London so suddenly, she would not have been so carefree or happy.

Lord Brookfield had arrived at the
Spa Hotel
in the early hours of the morning, having almost worn out the team of horses on his hired carriage.

It had taken him some time to discover Miranda's whereabouts, but, as soon as he had, he had not tarried in London an instant longer.

It had cost him a great deal of money to persuade the carriage firm to hire him a team of horses at such short notice.

He would have taken his own, had they not been on his Hertfordshire estate and he was in no mood to delay.

As soon as he arrived at his hotel, before he even went to his suite of rooms, he made enquiries as to where he could find Sir George Whitby.

“He is an old friend, but in my haste to leave, I left his address behind,” he told the concierge.

“We would be very pleased to send him word of your arrival,” began the man cautiously.

But a silver guinea had soon smoothed the way and the concierge wrote out Sir George's address on a sheet of hotel notepaper along with instructions of how to get there.

With a satisfied grunt, Lord Brookfield tucked the precious note into his wallet and proceeded to his room. As soon as his luggage had been unloaded, he went to bed and slept.

‘I am in no hurry,' he murmured, as he laid his head on the white cotton pillowslip. ‘She does not know of my arrival here – she will not be rushing off!'

*

By the time that Miranda arrived at the Hall, she was thrilled to see that Miss Jenkins was just pulling up in her buggy.

Although it had been a couple of years since she had last seen her, she waved as she handed the reins of her horse to the waiting stable boy.

“Miss Miranda!” called Miss Jenkins. “I would not have recognised you! You are all grown up. Just look at you!”

“It is wonderful that we shall be working together,” enthused Miranda, as they walked into the Hall. “There is so much to do and Lord Templeton has such splendid ideas for improving the estate.”

“If he is anything like he was as a boy, then I shall have to be going after him with a broom the entire time!” said Miss Jenkins with a fond laugh. “Is he still as lazy?”

“Oh, no. He is quite changed. I expect you know that he was in India for the last five years – quite the hero, by all accounts.”

“Yes, I remember his mother reading me extracts from his letters. That is when he managed to send one. Although he never boasted about his achievements, one could tell he had been in many daring exploits.”

“You will now find him a different man,” answered Miranda with an introspective smile. “There is much that has changed about him.”

The study door was open and the Earl was already at his desk. His face lit up as he saw Miss Jenkins coming towards him.

“I am so very glad that you came!” he greeted her, getting up to shake her hand. “You are not a moment too soon. As you can see, I am about to drown in a sea of paper!”

Miss Jenkins laughed.

“I am sure that much of it can be dispensed with in an instant. Just show me where I am to sit and give me a fresh ream of paper, some ink and a quill and I shall set to work.”

The Earl grinned over her at Miranda and led her to a desk that had been brought down from the storage room. It was smaller than his father's, but was just the right size for the petite Miss Jenkins.

She soon set to work and before the architect had arrived to discuss the new dairy, the pile of paper in front of her had considerably diminished, while a neat stack of addressed correspondence stood on the side.

At midday the Earl announced that he was taking the architect – a Mr. Woodleigh – on a tour of the site.

“Will you be able to continue what you are doing without me for a while?” he enquired, ringing for Stringer to bring his hat. “I promised Alec that when the architect arrived I would take him with us.”

“Of course,” replied Miranda. “But don't forget that there are three builders turning up after luncheon!”

The Earl smiled to himself.

If only all his workers were like Miss Jenkins and Miranda!

‘Especially Miranda,' he told himself.

He left them to resume their duties.

They continued with their work diligently and were not very pleased when the study door suddenly burst open just before luncheon to reveal Lady Waterton.

‘How very rude, she did not even bother to knock!' thought Miranda looking up.

She had heard enough about her from the Earl to realise that she was not exactly a welcome guest to him.

“What industrious little bees!” remarked Lady Waterton. “A veritable hive of activity!”

“Can I help you, Lady Waterton?” asked Miranda. “Were you looking for someone or are you lost?”

Lady Waterton laughed in reply.

“Oh, no, I am not lost. I just thought I would come and visit Robert's little workers!”

‘How dare she speak to me like a mere servant!' thought Miranda, but she calmed herself making her voice smooth and even when she spoke.

“Well, as you can see we are indeed very busy.”

She put her head down to look at her papers.

“What is this?” squawked Lady Waterton suddenly.

She plucked a letter from Miranda's desk and scanned its contents.

“Oh, I can hardly read it! Whose hand is this?”

Miranda retrieved the letter and did not reply. The sooner this rude woman left them alone, the better!

“I can see I am stopping you from your labours,” she sneered after a while. “I shall leave you in peace.”

With a swish of skirts she left the room.

“What an awful woman!” said Miss Jenkins, after the door closed. “And what a huge cheek to say that my handwriting is illegible!”

“She thought it was mine, which is why she made the comment,” added Miranda in a bitter tone.

The gong for luncheon soon sounded and Miranda checked the clock on the mantelpiece.

“He is late,” she murmured.

“Do you mean his Lordship?” asked Miss Jenkins. “I expect the three of them are busy with men's talk!”

“And they will have forgotten the time!”

Just then Stringer came in with a tray followed by a footman with another one.

“Luncheon, ladies! Miss Whitby, I apologise – ”

“Sshh,” Miranda hushed him, aware that the earlier snub could only have come from the Countess. “Let us not make a fuss about it. In any case, Miss Jenkins and I have much to catch up on!”

With that she lifted the lid off the first plate and found a delicious-looking chicken salad with cold new potatoes in mayonnaise. Underneath the second, was a beautifully glazed strawberry tart.

“You must thank cook for looking after us so well!” Miranda enthused warmly.

Although they had been made to eat in a separate room like servants, she had noticed the bill of fare was not what the servants would have eaten for their luncheon.

Scarcely ten minutes later there was a commotion in the hall followed by the sounds of Alec being wheeled into the dining room.

‘He's back!' she thought to herself, thrilled.

“Thank you so much!” she heard Alec saying. “I am so glad you have returned home. It was all becoming too much for me – and thank you as well for sorting out that business with the old gamekeeper. I did not think to go to Sir George and ask for his help.”

“Then it is just as well I returned home!” came the Earl's deep voice. “Now after luncheon I want you to meet my two new assistants. But, for now, Mama will be most displeased if we keep her waiting!”

Miranda returned to her plate of chicken salad and smiled to herself.

‘He is, indeed, a changed man,' she pondered. ‘I am ashamed I thought such bad things about him.'

*

Lord Brookfield was once more on the move.

After bathing he left his suite at the hotel. His hired carriage was ready and waiting for him and he handed the driver his instructions on how to reach their destination.

“Do you think you can locate it?” he barked, squinting at the man against the bright midday sun.

“Course I can, my Lord,” came the crude response. “I can find me way in a blizzard to the North Pole!”

“Just getting me to The Grange will be enough,” smirked Lord Brookfield, climbing up the carriage steps. “The concierge said it is quite easy to find as long as you keep Ledbury Hall to your right.”

“Yah!” cried the driver, cracking the reins over the back of the rested horses.

An hour or so later, the carriage trundled along the narrow road that led to The Grange.

As the concierge had directed, the distant silhouette of Ledbury Hall with its castellated tower was to their right across the fields.

Lord Brookfield stuck his head out of the carriage window to obtain a better view and glimpsed the low squat profile of The Grange in the distance.

‘It is not quite as grand as I would have thought,' he mumbled, settling back in the interior. ‘Sir George is a man of means and I am surprised that he does not show it to the world in a more obvious manner.'

At last they reached the drive.

“Shall I take the 'orses up to the 'ouse, my Lord?”

“No,” he replied with a sly smile. “You stay here with the carriage and I will approach on foot.”

“Very good, my Lord.”

Without waiting for him to jump down and open the door, Lord Brookfield leapt out and was soon striding up the short drive to the house.

‘It is a lot larger than I first thought,' he muttered. ‘It may not be so easy to find her.'

He looked at the horse's trough outside the entrance and smiled.

‘This was once a farm!' he sneered to himself.

All seemed very quiet and he was pleased with that state of affairs.

If Sir George was at home, he would be having luncheon and the servants would all be busy.