Beneath the Major's Scars (12 page)

Dominic choked in the act of finishing his wine.

‘Madam, that is the most blatant propositioning—!’

‘Oh heavens, Major, you quite mistake me, I did not mean—’
Maria put her hand on his arm to prevent him from rising. ‘Oh, my dear sir, I do
not mean that
you
should be that gentleman! I beg
your pardon. It is just, well, you and Reginald are related, after all.’

‘A very distant connection,’ he flashed.

Her gracious smile did not falter.

‘But it was thanks to Reginald that you heard Rooks Tower was
for sale, did you not? So we have been of use to you, I believe.’ She leaned a
little closer. ‘Let me be frank with you.’

He eyed her with some misgiving.

‘I’m afraid you have been too frank already.’

‘No, no. Pray allow me to explain. Zelah is a charming girl,
but this assembly is the nearest she will get to a come-out, and much as I value
the local society, you must admit there is no one here worthy of her. It is not
that there are not good families living nearby, but you will never find Sir
Arthur Andrews, or the Conisbys or the Lulworths attending such an assembly as
this. No, what Zelah needs is a benefactor. Someone to hold a ball for her. A
splendid affair attended by the best families in the area, so that they may see
just what a jewel she is. And so that
Zelah
might
see that there is an alternative to becoming a governess.’ She gave another
sigh. ‘I would happily hold a ball for her, if we were in a position to do so,
but you have visited West Barton, Major, you know we have no reception rooms
suitable for more than a very small gathering.’ She fixed her eyes, so like her
sister’s, upon him. ‘I believe Rooks Tower has several excellent reception
rooms.’

Despite himself, Dominic’s lips twitched.

‘Mrs Buckland, you have been very frank with me, let me be
equally plain. I will happily acknowledge that your husband and I are related
and that it was through our mutual relative that I heard about Rooks Tower. I am
very grateful for that, but even so I have no intention of holding a ball, for
Miss Pentewan or anyone else.’

She stared at him and he held her gaze unblinking, until
finally she nodded.

‘Reginald warned me how it would be, that you would not
countenance such a thing, but Zelah thinks so highly of you, I thought I might
put it to the touch.’

The music had ended and Reginald Buckland was even now bringing
Zelah across to them. Dominic rose.

‘Well, you have done so and you may now be easy.’

* * *

Laughing and breathless, Zelah took Reginald’s arm and
tripped across the room to join her sister. She immediately noticed the tall
figure of the major beside Maria as they left the dance floor. He was standing
with his left side turned to the wall so that he was presenting the right,
uninjured side of his face to the room. Zelah found herself staring at his
profile, the smooth plane of his cheek and the strong, clean line of his jaw.
There was just the hint of a smile on the sculpted lips, perhaps it was
something Maria had said to him. She was struck again by how handsome he was—had
been.

As if aware of her attention he turned to look at her and she
saw again the cruel, jagged scar that distorted the left side of his face. She
kept her eyes upon him, refusing to glance away. She would not betray any sign
of pity, even by a flicker of an eyelid. Whatever happy thoughts he had shared
with Maria had gone. There was no hint of a smile in his hard grey eyes. Beside
her she could hear Reginald’s loud, cheerful banter.

‘By Gad, Zelah, you have worn me out! I think I must sit and
rest my old bones beside Maria for a while. What say you, will you sit down or
shall I find you another partner? Eh, who would you dance with next?’

Her gaze never wavered.

‘I will dance with the major, if he will have me.’

It was a bold statement. For a frightening moment she thought
he would refuse. Then, unsmiling, he held out his hand. Triumphant, she put up
her head and proudly accompanied him to the floor.

The musicians had decided that their audience needed some
respite from the energetic dances and now began a slower, much more stately
beat. Zelah had time to observe her partner and to be observed. Her own gaze
dropped beneath his unwavering scrutiny and she felt herself blushing like any
schoolgirl. She would have missed her step, if her partner had not been adept at
leading her. His grip tightened and she gave him a little smile, grateful for
his support.

‘You are a very good dancer, Major.’

‘Thank you. I was used to be so, but I am very much out of
practice.’

‘Ah, but you have been used to dancing in the grandest
ballrooms. Your idea of
out of practice
is polished
perfection to our little assembly.’

‘You flatter me, ma’am.’

‘No, I do not.’ She met his look, suddenly serious. ‘You are
not lame when you are dancing.’

‘Not when I am dancing with you.’

The sudden and unexpected heat of his glance seared Zelah and a
flame of desire threatened to engulf her. She fought it back. That way led only
to disaster.

‘Nonsense. You have danced several times this evening without
any halting step.’

‘How can you know that?’

‘Because I was watching you.’

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly.

‘How very gratifying.’

Too late she realised he had tricked her. Triumph danced in his
eyes and drew an answering gleam from her own. She sank her teeth into her
bottom lip to prevent the smile that was trying to spill out.

‘I was dancing too, so you were often in my sight, I was not
deliberately looking out for you.’ Her lofty response resulted in a chuckle and
she tried to scowl at him. ‘Fie, sir, you twist my words to pander to your own
vanity!’

‘You are twisting your own words. I have said very little.’

‘No, but you
looked
—’ She laughed.
‘You are making May-game of me, Major. Is this how one flirts in the highest
circles? I fear I am a very unworthy opponent.’

The music came to an end and she sank into her curtsy. He
reached out for her proffered hand to pull her up.

‘There is nothing at all unworthy about you, Miss Pentewan,’ he
murmured and she watched, speechless, as he carried her fingers to his lips.

* * *

Once it was seen that Major Coale was no longer
confining his attentions to the married ladies, those parents with daughters to
marry off began to flock around him and he obliged them all by remaining on the
floor for the rest of the night, but Zelah could not quell the little thrill of
triumph when he led her out for the last dance of the evening.

‘You must be well practised by now, Major.’

‘You have done me a great disservice, madam. Since dancing with
you I have been besieged with partners.’

‘Tell me you did not enjoy it.’

His smile was genuine, softening his face, and again she felt
the ache of attraction.

‘I have not danced like that since...since I returned from the
Peninsula.’

‘Then you should do so more often, Major. You look the better
for it.’

His hand tightened on her fingers and her body cried out to
respond to the warm invitation in his eyes, but she shook her head at him.

‘I will not allow you to flirt with me, or to tease me, Major.
I have a serious point to make and will not be distracted. You see how everyone
accepts you and you are much more at ease with them. I consider this a good
night’s work.’

‘Have I become your charity? Your good cause?’

A quick glance assured her he was not offended and she smiled
up at him

‘Not at all. But it has done you the power of good to come into
society, sir, even if it is only country society!’

Chapter Eight

T
he early morning
sunshine poured in through the windows of the
breakfast room at Rooks Tower, sending golden bars of light across the floor.
Dominic pushed his plate away and sat back, going over his plans for the day. He
had arranged to meet Philips in the West Wood and he knew he would enjoy riding
out. Even before sitting down to breakfast he had sent word to the stables to
have Cloud saddled, but as he crossed the hall his eyes were drawn to the double
doors leading off, his mind flying ahead through the darkened room and into the
library beyond. It was the work of a moment to turn aside and stride through the
shuttered salon. He pushed open the connecting doors and stepped into the
library.

Zelah was already at work, a linen apron fastened over her
dark-grey gown as she carefully dusted one of the many piles of books. Her
bouncing curls had been ruthlessly drawn back into a knot, exposing the slender
curve of her neck and the dainty shell of her ear. She presented a demure
picture, cool and elegant. Nothing like the carefree, vibrant creature he had
danced with last night, but every bit as alluring. His heart lifted when he
remembered Maria Buckland’s words—‘Zelah thinks so highly of you.’

‘I hardly expected you to come today,’ he said. ‘And here you
are, earlier than usual.’

When she turned to smile it brought the golden sunshine into
the room.

‘I could not sleep. Is that not nonsensical, after dancing into
the early hours?’ She added shyly, ‘I enjoyed myself so much. I hope you did,
too, sir?’

‘Very much. Do they hold many such assemblies in
Lesserton?’

‘Oh, I do not think so.’ She picked up another book to dust.
‘Maria says there will not be another until the harvest.’

He tapped his riding crop idly against his boot. The rest of
Mrs Buckland’s conversation gnawed away at his brain.

‘I do not believe governesses go to balls, Miss Pentewan.’

She looked up at him, her brows raised in surprise at his
comment.

‘I do not think they do, sir.’

‘Then what will you do, since you love to dance?’

‘I shall have to teach my charges the basic steps. Then I will
skip around the nursery with them!’ She finished cleaning the book and put it
carefully in place on the bookshelf. ‘Have you come to spoil my morning with
melancholy thoughts? You will not do it. Last night’s music is still running
through my head.’

It was still in Dominic’s head, too. He wanted to sweep her up
in his arms and carry her around the room, breathing in her fresh, flowery
scent, making her laugh again.

No. To flirt with a pretty girl in a crowded ballroom was
acceptable, to do so with an employee here, under his own roof, would be
madness. He gripped the riding crop tighter, felt the sting as it slapped hard
against his leg. He said curtly, ‘There is still a great deal of work to do
here, Miss Pentewan. Do not let last night’s amusements interfere with your
duties.’

He turned on his heel and marched out, leaving Zelah to gaze
after him. Well! Did he think her so inept, so petty minded that she would be
distracted from her work by an evening’s entertainment? She threw down her
duster in disgust. The morning had been so golden, so wonderful that she had
been eager to reach Rooks Tower and continue with her work. She had been
enjoying herself, carefully cleaning each volume, checking it for damage and
putting in its place ready for cataloguing while in her mind she relived the
pleasures of the evening, but with a few cold words he had destroyed her
pleasure. First he had evoked thoughts of the drudgery that awaited her as a
governess, then he had reminded her—quite unnecessarily—of her duties.

With a little huff of anger she stalked across to the window.
It would serve him right if she walked out now and left him to organise his own
books! Hard on the heels of this mutinous thought was the realisation that Major
Coale could quite easily find someone else to take over, possibly someone much
more competent that she to do the work. Probably a scholar who understood Greek
and Latin and would not need to bother him. Zelah put her hands to her cheeks.
If he should turn her off now, before she had secured another position, she
would be penniless again, living on her family’s charity. It had felt so
rewarding to give her advance wages to Reginald, telling him it was for her keep
and to pay Nicky’s school fees. She needed the second instalment to put aside in
case she fell upon hard times in the future.

She must finish her task here, whatever the cost. It shocked
her to realise how much she wanted to complete it, to make this a library fit
for a gentleman. No, to make it fit for Dominic Coale. She also wanted to see
how the seasons played out on this terrace, once the gardeners had tamed the
overgrown plants and removed the grass and weeds that invaded the cracked
paving.

She clenched her fists.

‘I’ll show you, Major Coale. I am no poor, bullied soldier to
be frightened by your bluster and ill humour.’

With renewed determination she applied herself to her work and
returned to West Barton that evening tired, dusty but content.

* * *

She tried to be pleased when she heard the next day that
Major Coale had gone off on business, but she missed his visits to the library,
even when he was being odiously difficult. Now that most of the books were on
the shelves, she was working her way through each section, recording,
cross-referencing, enjoying the experience of being surrounded by so much
knowledge. Her father, she knew, would relish such a wide-ranging collection and
in her regular letters to her parents she always included details of her
progress at Rooks Tower. It helped her to reinforce her growing sense of pride
in her achievement.

* * *

‘I thought I might accompany Reginald to Lesserton
today, for the hearing. I would be very glad of your company.’

Maria was pouring coffee at the breakfast table as she made
this request. Zelah glanced at her brother-in-law.

‘I have told her it is not necessary, but she insists,’ he
replied jovially, but Zelah noted the slight shaking of his hand as he took the
proffered cup. His was an easy-going nature and she knew he did not relish any
sort of confrontation.

‘Of course Maria will want to support you,’ said Zelah stoutly.
‘I shall come with you. Major Coale can spare me for one day, I am sure.’

* * *

They travelled to Lesserton in the carriage, Reginald in
his best coat of olive superfine and the ladies suitably veiled. The hearing was
to take place in the long room at the White Hart, the same room that had been
used for the assembly, but now it looked very different, stripped of its
garlands and the space filled with desks and benches. The room was already full
to overflowing and Maria observed that the whole of Lesserton was
represented.

‘Which is not surprising,’ agreed Reginald, ‘since they have
all been accustomed to grazing their animals on the land Sir Oswald is
claiming.’ He looked around the crowded room. ‘My dear, I think after all I
would prefer you to wait downstairs for me. The proceedings could become
boisterous. Come, I will bespeak a private room for you.’

Maria protested, but Zelah could see her objections were
half-hearted. They made their way downstairs to a private parlour overlooking
the street, where Reginald left them and went to talk to the farmers gathered in
a little knot around a tall, saturnine gentleman in a black frock coat and
bagwig.

‘That is Mr Summerson, the lawyer from London,’ whispered
Maria, drawing Zelah to the window. ‘Reginald was closeted with him for hours
yesterday. He has obtained copies of the charters filed with the Crown—’ She
broke off as another carriage pulled up at the door. She gave a little snort.
‘And here is Sir Oswald himself. The rat-faced little man with him is his
lawyer. Look how he follows, bowing and scraping. Ugh, quite repulsive.’

Soon everyone had gone upstairs and the ladies settled down to
wait. The landlord sent in coffee and they sat in silence, listening to the
tread of feet above them and the occasional rumble as the crowd muttered or
protested over something that had been said.

* * *

An hour had gone by, two, and still the hearing had
continued. There was a cheer at one point, and Maria had looked up hopefully,
but it was another full hour before the thunder of movement above them told them
that the hearing was over. They waited impatiently, listening to the clatter of
feet on the stairs and watching the villagers pour out onto the street.

‘They do not look particularly elated,’ Zelah observed, not
knowing how to interpret the expressions of the crowd.

She turned expectantly towards the door as her brother-in-law
came in. Maria ran to him.

‘Well?’

He took her outstretched hands and forced a smile. ‘All is not
lost.’

He guided the ladies back to the table as a servant came in
with more coffee and a jug of ale and they sat down, waiting in silence until
they were alone once more.

‘It was going very well. Mr Summerson brought a charter that
describes the common land and mentions the stream that forms the westernmost
boundary. The description fits the Lightwater, which runs down from Rooks Ford
and to the west of Prickett Wood. I thought we had it then, until Evanshaw’s man
pointed out that it could just as easily refer to the ditch that runs along the
edge of the bluebell wood.’ Reginald shook his head. ‘Evanshaw then produced a
map, which clearly shows the ditch as the boundary.’

Maria snorted.

‘A forgery!’

‘Very likely, my dear, but with that and the charter, Sir
Arthur is minded to agree that Prickett Wood and the hill grazing does belong to
Sir Oswald.’ He sighed. ‘Some of the older villagers claim their parents told
them of a boundary stone, but it hasn’t been seen in living memory, and Sir
Oswald’s man claims it will have been removed when the lane at the edge of
bluebell wood was widened.’

‘Oh dear,’ said Zelah. ‘Then the villagers have lost their
fight. No wonder they were looking so downcast.’

‘Well, not quite. Sir Arthur is not wholly convinced, and he
has given us until the end of June to find more evidence to prove our case.’

‘And must Sir Oswald allow the villagers access until
then?’

‘I’m afraid not. Evanshaw’s lawyer argued most successfully
against it. However, Sir Arthur has ordered that he remove the mantraps, but he
has conceded that Evanshaw has the right to shoot any deer that wander into the
wood, since they damage his valuable woodland.’

‘It would seem Sir Arthur is well nigh convinced the land
belongs to Lydcombe Park,’ sighed Zelah.

‘If that is the case, can we afford to fight it?’ asked Maria.
‘I know how hard it was for everyone to find the money to pay for the lawyer to
come down for just this one visit.’

‘You can perhaps find someone local,’ suggested Zelah.

Maria looked doubtful. ‘Perhaps, but it will still be
costly.’

Reginald took his wife’s hands. ‘Perhaps I should have
discussed this with you first, my love, but I have pledged that I will bear the
costs for the next hearing. If we win then the farmers and villagers will pay me
back, if we lose... I know that would leave us sadly short,’ he said quickly,
seeing the dismay in her face, ‘but we shall come about, with a little economy.
We have to try.’

‘What is the alternative?’ asked Zelah. ‘What will happen if
the villagers lose the hill grazing and the right to forage in Prickett
Wood?’

Reginald shrugged. ‘Many of them will not be able to survive.
Some of them are our tenants and if they cannot pay their rents then that will
affect us, too.’

‘Then of course we must do what we can to avoid that,’ said
Maria. She glanced at the little bracket clock on the shelf. ‘Pray order more
refreshments, Reginald. If we wait another hour, we can collect Nicky from Mr
Netherby’s on our way home.’

* * *

When Dominic walked into the taproom of the White Hart
that evening he found the mood distinctly sombre. He was on his way back from
Exeter and had made good time, but the warm weather had left him parched and he
decided to slake his thirst in Lesserton before the final stage of his
journey.

He entered the inn, his coat collar turned up and his hat
pulled down to shade the left side of his face, as was his habit, but several of
the locals recognised him and nodded. Giles Grundy was sitting at one end of the
bench beside the long central table and he shifted up to make room. Dominic
hesitated, but he knew it would be churlish to ignore this small sign of
friendship so he went over to join him, saying as he sat down, ‘How went the
hearing today?’

Giles grunted and after taking a long draught from his tankard
he gave Dominic a brief account.

‘Ah, ’tis all over,’ grunted Abraham Judd, puffing morosely on
his pipe at the other end of the table. ‘Even Mr Buckland bringing down a fine
Lunnon lawyer didn’t make no difference. Evanshaw claims the ditch is the
boundary stream and Sir Arthur do believe ’un.’ He turned to spit into the
fireplace at his back. ‘Stream! There’s more water in my pisspot than that there
ditch, and allus has been!’

He stopped and glared at the doorway. Dominic felt the tension
around him and looked up to see Miller, Sir Oswald’s bailiff, had entered. His
glance at the long table was met with sullen stares. With a scowl he turned
away, then thought better of it and came over to the long table.

‘Drownin’ yer sorrows?’ His lip curled. ‘I heard how it went
today, so here’s a warnin’ to you all to keep off Sir Oswald’s land.’

‘But ’tedn’t his land yet, Miller,’ growled Giles Grundy. ‘Not
fer another month.’

Miller shrugged.

‘As near as damn it, an’ I’ll be out with me gun every night,
as will my men. Should any of ’ee want to argue the point, we’d be only too
pleased to shoot ye.’