A Marriageable Miss (21 page)

‘The drive gates are about two miles up the road to the right,’ volunteered Mrs Wainwright. ‘But, if you were wanting to surprise his lordship over at the stables, my lady, your best bet is to cut across the lawn out here and follow the river path down to the old footbridge, which goes straight over the river into Markfield itself—you can see the back of the old Hall from there and the stables are just behind the walled garden. It’s a very pretty walk and shouldn’t take you more than twenty minutes or so.’

Having collected a wide-brimmed straw bonnet and a lightweight wrap, Helena slipped out of the house through the double doors of the sitting room on to the terrace beyond, and ran lightly down the steps and across the sloping lawn towards the path that bordered the little river that snaked its way between the two estates.

Just as Mrs Wainwright had said, the walk proved to be a most attractive one, with magnificent willow trees draping their freshly budding fronds into the water on one side of the path and a copper beech hedge sheltering neatly kept vegetable and herb gardens on the other. Even though it was still only mid-April, the air was still and the temperature pleasantly mild. Strolling dreamily along in the sunshine, Helena was soon drinking in the beauty that surrounded her; the huge drifts of wild daffodils adorning the grassy banks of the river and, most enchanting of all, the clusters of primroses, violets and celandines that nestled randomly amongst the roots of the hedgerows. She stopped and watched in awe as a pair of haughty-looking swans sailed majestically by, then laughed out
loud at the antics of a noisy family of ducks as they jostled for position at the river’s edge.

Just the sort of property she had always envisioned whilst endeavouring to persuade her father to sell up and move out of the capital, she recalled, as she let out a wistful sigh. His health could hardly have failed to improve had he chosen to surround himself with such serene tranquillity and now, she was not even sure that she was in a position to invite him down for a short stay! After last night’s bitter confrontation, it would not have surprised her to learn that her husband had every intention of filing for an immediate annulment of their hasty marriage—a resolution with which she would have heartily concurred until less than half an hour ago. Her rather enlightening chat with Mrs Wainwright, however, had raised a host of doubts in her mind and she was now finding it impossible to reconcile the housekeeper’s sturdy avowal of Lord Markfield’s upright character with her own less than complimentary appraisal of him.

Nevertheless, it was difficult to see how she could have been so mistaken about everything—the Cummings woman
had
been in the church, after all and, despite the earl having pointed out that church services were open to the public, Helena still could not understand why any self-respecting female would feel the need to attend her ex-lover’s marriage ceremony since, as far as she could see, any such action could well be likened to the rubbing of salt in an open wound!

Rather more perturbing, perhaps, had been the matter of that ruby earring. Despite Markfield’s angrily vehement protests and denials, there had been no doubt in Helena’s mind as to the trinket’s owner, although she felt bound to admit that, had it not been for the fact that his earlier long-term absence over at the stables still rankled somewhat, she might easily have persuaded herself to take her husband’s word on the subject. As it was, the earl’s protestations had finally ground to a halt and, turning furiously on his heel, he had made for his own chamber where, after slamming the door behind him, she had actually heard the click of the lock as he turned the key.

Summoning up the nerve to face him after all the bitter antagonism that had flowed between them was not going to be easy, she told herself, as she approached the rather ancient-looking footbridge. If, as was beginning to look increasingly likely, her husband turned out to be totally innocent of all that she had accused him, then an abject apology would seem to be in order. Having recalled Markfield’s expression as he had flung himself out of the room, however, Helena could only view such a prospect with increasing apprehension. And yet, as she well knew, if the fault lay at her door, she would just have to steel herself to admit the possibility of a mistake.

But that still did not explain the presence of the earring! Could it have fallen out of her husband’s pocket during an earlier inspection of her room? she wondered. Perhaps he had retrieved the earrings from Lady Cummings at their final meeting, she then conjectured—but why, then, would he need to deny all knowledge of its existence? It was all so very perplexing!

The footbridge, as she was soon to discover, spanned the river at its narrowest point, just before it altered its course to curve sharply westwards, thereafter to meander its way between Charles Standish’s Southpark property and the main Markfield estate. Mrs Wainwright had mentioned that there was a second bridge some three-quarters of a mile beyond this one but, since she had made up her mind that it was up to her to make the effort to effect some sort of a reconciliation between herself and her husband, Helena could see no virtue in postponing the inevitable any longer than was absolutely necessary.

Despite the fact that the distance between the two banks was little more than eight feet, she could not help but feel a moment’s unease at the sight of the river rushing along beneath her feet through the many gaps in the bridge’s woodwork. No sooner had she reached the far side, however, than she was taking herself to task for behaving in so juvenile a manner—doubtless the estate workers who crossed the bridge on a daily basis would have been highly amused to witness the tottering steps of their new mistress!

Richard, doing his best to keep his mind on his work and off the disastrous events of the previous evening, had an uncanny sense of Helena’s presence long before he could bring himself to turn around and confront her.

The amount of brandy he had consumed the previous evening, in an effort to blot out the image of his wife sprawled on the bed in fervent anticipation of his lovemaking, had resulted in him suffering from the most blinding headache. Now, every time he tried to redirect his attention towards trying to fathom out how the offending jewel could have found its way into his wife’s bedroom, a searing pain shot through his head, rendering him incapable of any kind of constructive thought. He had managed to get as far as questioning Fran, the maidservant, as to precisely where she had come across the bauble—snagged up in one of her mistress’s bed curtains, apparently—but beyond that, he was totally mystified as to how it could possibly have come to be there.

The fact that he had allowed his angry frustration to get the better of him galled him intensely, but he doubted that there was a man alive who would have regarded so unpropitious an interruption with any sort of equanimity. It was bad enough that his ardour had been dashed for the second time that day, but to find himself accused of—what? He was not entirely sure of the charge. Did Helena seriously imagine that he had invited his ex-paramour to share his soon-to-be-wife’s bed with him during the past week? Good God in heaven! To the best of his knowledge the room had been shut up ever since his mother’s death and only his forthcoming marriage had caused him to unlock the door and order its total redecoration and refurbishment.

The only other explanation that his fuddled head had been able to conjure up was that both of these ploys—Helena’s tale about having seen Rachel in the church and her maid’s supposed discovery of the earring—had been drummed up by his new wife in some sort of desperate attempt to avoid an unwanted consummation of their marriage!

All of which both irritated and puzzled the earl deeply, since
he had been utterly convinced that Helena’s responses to his caresses had been genuine. The idea that he might have imagined such eager enthusiasm was almost laughable—and he was sufficiently acquainted with the ways of the opposite sex to be reasonably certain that the former Miss Wheatley was far too much of an innocent to be versed in the subtle art of teasing.

Nevertheless, if that was the way she wanted it, he decided, with a disaffected shrug, then that was the way it would have to be. He had never been obliged to resort to taking a woman by force before and he was certainly not about to start now.

‘What a fine-looking animal!’

Helena’s cheerful call cut across his thoughts and, carefully tethering the thoroughbred colt he had been in the process of training to the nearby gatepost, Richard turned to face her. The discovery that she managed to look so fresh and infinitely kissable after so tempestuous a parting, when he felt so damnably haggard, gave him yet another reason to stay well clear of her. It would seem that the previous night’s débâcle had not overset her in the slightest!

‘Arabian stock,’ he explained, eyeing her curiously. ‘I was hoping to have them ready for next week’s auctions.’ He paused, then, unable to stop himself, he blurted out, ‘I hardly expected to see you here this morning.’

‘Well, at least you haven’t asked me if I slept well,’ she returned drily. ‘It has been the question on almost everyone else’s lips this morning!’

A reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. ‘It’s just that they are all rather keen to find favour with you,’ he assured her. ‘It’s been a good many years since Westpark had a—’

He had been about to say ‘mistress’ but, in view of the present contention between them, hurriedly substituted, ’—lady at its helm.’

The replacement not having escaped her, Helena merely gave a brief nod but, not entirely at ease with the way in which her husband’s eyes seemed to have rested upon her lips, reviving unwanted memories of those heady kisses, she blinked and moved hurriedly across to the five-barred gate where, by stepping up on
to the lowest bar, she was able to rest her folded arms across its topmost strut and direct her attention to the young colt cropping contentedly at the grass scarcely two feet away from her. ‘He’s very beautiful,’ she exclaimed, as soon as she had regained control of her wayward emotions. ‘How many horses do you actually have here?’

‘Only twelve in the actual stud—three stallions, six mares and three colts—plus the usual assortment of carriage horses and other working animals, of course.’

Holding his breath, Richard stepped towards her, his fingers positively itching to feel the warm softness of her body once more in their grasp. ‘What’s brought you here, Helena?’ he asked softly, hoping against hope that, having taken stock of their parlous situation, she had decided to put aside their differences and attempt a fresh start.

But, not entirely confident of her ability to withstand any advances he might be about to make, Helena, leaping down from her perch, sidestepped him neatly and waved her hand in the direction of the house. ‘I just wanted to take a look at the Hall,’ she replied, somewhat breathlessly. ‘After all, it
was
your reason for seeking out my father in the first place, as I recall. I just had a fancy to see what all the fuss was about!’

‘Be my guest,’ returned Richard, giving an impassive shrug of his shoulder. ‘I doubt that you will be particularly impressed—last week’s rain hardly helped matters.’

The speed at which recent events had occurred had rather curtailed his former enthusiasm for reviving the grandeur of the family home and, in view of the latest disappointments he had suffered, its very presence now served only as a mocking reminder of how he had come to be in such an unenviable position in the first place.

‘Oh, I dare say it can soon be put to rights,’ Helena said dismissively. ‘Now that you have Papa’s money, there is no end to the improvements you will be able to make.’

Ignoring his extended arm, she strode off in the direction of the Hall’s rear entrance, feeling a growing need to keep as much
distance between herself and her husband as was humanly possible. How it was that he always had such an overwhelming effect upon her senses, she was at a loss to understand, but it was becoming very clear that she was going to have to watch herself very carefully if she meant to avoid any sort of repetition of the previous day’s heartrending experiences!

Fighting back his frustration, Richard hurried after her and managed to catch up with her just as she was proceeding down the passageway that led into the great hall.

‘Oh, how perfectly dreadful!’

Helena’s shocked whisper smote at his heart.

‘Not a pretty sight, is it?’ he sighed.

And, indeed, it was not. Its roof open to the elements in a good many places, the once-grand entrance hall revealed its rather sorry state in all its depressing entirety; the once highly coveted Gibbons panelling that covered all four walls up as far as the roof beams was badly cracked and bulged out in many areas. Scarcely an inch of woodwork had escaped the long years of neglect, and the irreplaceable carvings were now, seemingly, water damaged beyond repair. And, if that were not more than enough with which to contend, evidence of a recent heavy rainfall had left a great many pools of water littered about the marble-tiled flooring, filling the air with a damp and fetid odour.

As she incredulously took in the ruined shell of the hallway, a lump began to form in Helena’s throat and tears filled her eyes.

‘It’s absolutely appalling,’ she choked. ‘How anyone could treat such magnificent craftsmanship with so little respect is quite beyond my understanding!’

Then, spinning around, she confronted Richard with an indignant glare. ‘You cannot allow such destruction to continue!’ she stormed at him. ‘You must cease what you are doing immediately and set about putting it all back to rights!’

‘Later in the year, possibly,’ he responded. ‘I have more important things to think about at present.’

‘But, surely, this is why you have been so urgently in need of money?’ she persisted, staring up at him in frowning incredulity.
‘You cannot mean to tell me that now that you have my dowry in your hands you have no intention of using it to repair this lovely old place?’