Black Sheep's Daughter (25 page)

 Teresa flushed. Lord Danville, Mr Wishart, Jenny and Daphne eyed her knowingly but held their tongues.

 "Shoo..." began Lord John.

 "Bless you!" said Jenny and Daphne in chorus.

 "I hope you are not coming down with a cold," said Lord Danville, frowning at his brother.

 "Sneezed myself, this morning," said Mr Wishart. "It's this dashed weather."

 "Spillikins!" said Teresa gratefully. It seemed a pity that she could not boast of her prowess at target shooting, but she knew the others were right to forestall John’s imminent revelation.

 "You must come up to the nursery and play with the children," Lady Pamela invited. "Little Tom adores spillikins."

 In the event, all the young people decided the nursery was as good a place as any to be on such a day. Even Lord Danville (Uncle Tom) and Lord Jordan (Papa) forgot their dignity and joined in games of spillikins and lotto and hunt the slipper.

 Teresa had never seen Muriel so animated. She and Lord Danville took the lead in romping with the children. When they paused for breath, Teresa heard them expatiating on the joys of family life. Both, it seemed, wanted numerous offspring. She wondered whether Andrew knew that he was expected to father a large family. It made her quite cross to see the two of them so in charity with each other. It was not at all fair to Andrew, the way demure Muriel turned into a flirt as soon as he absented himself.

 The afternoon seemed endless, the evening worse.

* * * *

 The next morning was even colder, but at least the sun was shining. Teresa could not bear the thought of another day confined to the house. She was the only lady who chose to ride with the gentlemen, and they were surprised at her joining them.

 "Are you sure it is wise, cousin?" asked Lord Danville solicitously. "After growing up in a tropical climate, you can have no notion how cold England in December can be."

 "I mean to find out, or I shall never know. Annie has bundled me up in innumerable layers of clothing, and your housekeeper thrust this muffler upon me as I came down the stair. How should I wear it, do you think?"

 Lord John offered his assistance. He pulled the hood of her cloak over her head, then wound the muffler round and round the lower half of her face, tucking the end in securely. Then he stood back to study the result. He laughed.

 "Dashed if you don't look like one of those devilish Egyptian mummies in the British Museum."

 "When were you ever in the British Museum?" enquired his elder brother sceptically.

 "Went for a lark once. Most sobering occasion, I can tell you, seeing all those fellows that died four thousand years ago still standing around."

 "I only hope my horse doesn't run a mile when she sees me coming," said Teresa.

 Bundled up as she was, the cold startled her at first. Until she mounted, the ground seemed to suck the warmth from her feet through the soles of her boots. A vigorous gallop brought tears to her eyes from the rush of frigid air, but it warmed the rest of her and she was enjoying herself when Lord Jordan suggested turning back.

 "Not yet," she pleaded. "Let's go a little farther."

 "Let's go round by the lake," said Lord John. "Another day of this and it may freeze over hard enough for skating."

 Teresa had seen a reference to skating in a book, but had not the least idea of what was involved. As they rode towards the lake, the gentlemen described the mechanics of the sport and told numerous anecdotes about the disastrous efforts of their friends.

 “Naturally,” said Mr. Wishart with a wink, “none of those present has ever been so clumsy as to fall on the ice.”

 She had ridden and walked by the lake before, and had thought that it must be delightful in the summer. A tributary of the Arun had been dammed to form a sizable pool with paved walks around it. White-painted bridges crossed the stream, and the whole was protected from wind on the north and east by woodland. A pretty summerhouse stood at the edge of the woods, forlorn at this season.

 Already the lake's surface was iced over except where the stream entered and left. Teresa found it an astonishing sight. As they drew near, an unwary mallard flew down to land and went sliding across, quacking indignantly.

 Lord John dismounted and went to test the ice with a stick. It held, so he took a cautious step, hurriedly retreating when it creaked under his weight.

 "Let me!" cried Teresa.

 Lord John helped her down and, despite Lord Danville's objection and Marco’s anxious “Be careful, Teresa!”, she approached the ice. With some trepidation she stepped onto it with one foot, holding her cousin's hand tightly. The other foot followed, and she stood very still, not wishing to follow the duck's humiliating example.

 Suddenly she giggled. "How my other brothers would stare, to see me standing on the water," she said. "I hope it will freeze hard enough for skating. John, I will come back now."

 She turned, with the greatest care, and gave him her other hand. As she stepped towards him her foot slipped and she fell forward to land in his arms. For a moment he held her close, gazing down at her with an arrested look. She flushed at the disturbing light in his eyes.

 "You are a cozy armful, cousin," he murmured, setting her steady on her feet. "I believe I'd have stolen a kiss were it not for that muffler."

 "Not in the presence of half a dozen other gentlemen, I trust!"  Teresa attempted a rallying tone.

 "Is that an invitation for the next time we find ourselves alone together?" he enquired with a wicked grin.

 "Certainly not!  Help me mount, if you please."

 They rode back to the house. Teresa was abstracted, wondering whether she had misread her cousin's meaningful gaze. Suppose he did develop a tendre for her, suppose he went so far as to offer for her, did she want to be his wife?

 Lord John was handsome, plump in the pocket, and of impeccable birth, factors that weighed heavily with all her female acquaintance. It would certainly count as an eligible connexion, though as second son he did not quite measure up to a splendid match. More important to Teresa, she thoroughly enjoyed his company, and it would be an added tie to her father's family, for whom she had developed a great affection. Best of all, he was never shocked by her lapses from the highest standards of propriety.

 On the other hand, he had been responsible for several of those lapses. He had not a serious bone in his body and was more like to lead her into mischief than to steer her away. Much as she liked him, she did not hold him in esteem. Nor did she love him.

 A wave of desolation swept over her. Andrew had her heart and she would never love another. It would not be fair to wed her cousin when all she could offer was affection.

 At that point in her musing she managed to laugh at herself. It was not at all likely that John would come up to scratch. For all she knew, first cousins were not permitted to marry in England. Anyway, he was only twenty-four, enjoying his freedom, and with no need to provide an heir. Undoubtedly all he wanted was a light flirtation, and she would oblige, while making very sure not to find herself alone with him!

* * * *

 When the duke heard that the lake was in a fair way to being frozen over, he proposed a skating party. If the weather stayed cold, the ice should be solid enough in a couple of days. If not, they must devise some other entertainment for the invited guests.

 Teresa spent the afternoon helping her aunt write invitations to all the neighbours with offspring of an age to enjoy so vigorous a pastime. Recalling the gentlemen's stories, she hoped the ice would set soon enough for her to practise a little, as she did not wish to make a complete cake of herself in public.

 By the next afternoon, Jenny, Daphne and Muriel were sufficiently tired of being confined to the house to agree to walk with Teresa to the lake.

 "Do pray wrap up warmly," instructed the duchess anxiously. "You will not wish to spend Christmas with a putrid sore throat."

 Teresa was soon ready and went to Jenny's chamber. Jenny, wrapped in layer upon layer of wool, was gazing at herself in the mirror.

 "I shall die of mortification if any gentleman sees me bundled up like an Esquimau," she announced with a melodramatic air, followed by a giggle.

 "I did not invite any gentlemen to accompany us. I am sure it is perfectly proper to go without. The lake is not far from the house, though it is out of sight, and I shall take my pistols, though I beg you will not mention it to the others. No one will see them under my cloak."

 "I scarcely think they will prove necessary!  This is England, not Costa Rica."

 "I promised my father to carry them when possible. Judging by his stories, there must have been more highwaymen and footpads about in his time."

 "In any case, gentlemen are unnecessary for once,” Jenny decided. “We must sneak out down the backstairs."

 "Thus providing amusement to the servants instead," agreed Teresa, laughing.

 They had a merry outing, all but Muriel venturing onto the edge of the ice, clutching each other and giggling. Jenny proclaimed herself an accomplished skater and slid several feet to demonstrate.

 When she turned and picked her way carefully back to them, she was frowning. "There's a man watching us," she said. "In the wood, over there."

 They all looked, but saw no one.

 "Either you imagined it, or it was one of my uncle's gamekeepers," Teresa said.

 "I did not imagine it, and he looked by far too shabby to be one of his Grace's servants. I have noticed they are all particularly well clad."

 "Then it must have been a poacher," Daphne suggested. "Chasing rabbits or pheasants, not young ladies."

 They all laughed, and the conversation turned to the more usual subject of the pursuit of beaux.

 Walking homeward, Teresa noticed that yellowish clouds were gathering. As she was unfamiliar with the climate she thought only that it was a pity the sun no longer shone. However, when she went up to her chamber Annie told her that the talk was all of snow.

 "It don't make sense to me, miss, but they all say the clouds'll make it warmer and it'll likely start snowing tonight."

 "Warmer!  I hope the ice will not melt before the party!"

 * * * *

That evening Teresa asked Lord Danville about the possibility of a thaw.

 "Quite likely," he said. "A chance to skate comes but rarely. I hope you will not be excessively disappointed, Miss Parr," he added, turning to Muriel.

 "Oh no, I never meant to skate," she assured him. "I fear Mama would not approve."

 "It is a hurly-burly business," he conceded. "Your delicacy of principle is admirable."  He smiled at her warmly.

 Teresa immediately decided she must speak to Muriel about her encouragement of his lordship before Andrew returned to observe it. The next morning, she dragged her out to walk down to the lake, ostensibly to test the ice.

 No snow had fallen, but the clouds still lowered overhead. It was much warmer and the thaw had turned the paths to mud. There was no difficulty persuading Jenny and Daphne not to go with them; only Teresa's determination prevailed upon Muriel.

 They walked in silence for some distance, Muriel attempting to avoid the worst of the mud, Teresa casting about for a way of broaching so delicate a matter. She realised now that she had no real right to intervene. None of those concerned were in any way accountable to her and Muriel would have every right to resent her interference.

 As they reached the lake, in which Teresa had lost interest, Muriel spoke first. "I cannot think why we had to come out here, but I am glad of the chance to speak to you privately. I do not know what to do!"

 "What to do?"

 "It is all such a dreadful muddle. Everyone will think it is creampot love, but indeed it is not, and they will say I am a horrid jilt. I cannot bear it!"

 "What can you not bear?  Muriel, pray do not weep, it makes it prodigious difficult to understand you. Here, take my handkerchief. Now explain this muddle, if you please, if you want my advice."

 "Oh, Teresa, I am in love with your cousin!  He is such a perfect gentleman and would not dream of going off to America or China, and I promise you I do not care that he will be duke."

 "Does Tom know this?"

 "I have said nothing. It would be most improper even were I not betrothed to Andrew. A lady simply does not declare her feelings until she is certain that the gentleman’s interest is fixed. And I shall wait forever for him to speak to me, because he is by far too gentlemanly to pay his addresses while I am not free. What am I to do?"

 "You are afraid to cry off in case Tom does not come up to scratch," said Teresa scornfully.

 "No, it is not like that. Only I am afraid it will hurt Andrew dreadfully and all for nothing if I do not marry Lord Danville after all."

 "I am glad you have some thought for Andrew's feelings!  How can you treat him so?  It is the outside of enough, when he has loved you all these years and you have at last set the date for your wedding. And he is prepared to give up China for your sake, though travel is the joy of his life. I had not thought you so hard-hearted."

 Muriel was silent, abashed, and in the quiet Teresa heard a twig break. She glanced round.

 Three scruffy men were bearing down upon them.

 She could not see their faces, wrapped in mufflers, but the middle one, the one with the horse pistol, looked vaguely familiar. The other two, one brawny, the second slight, waved cudgels.

 "Run, Muriel!" Teresa cried, struggling to draw her own pistols from the entangling folds of her cloak.

 Terrified, Muriel froze.

 Teresa grasped the gunstock. It was too late to draw. The ruffians were upon them; better that they should not know she was armed. She turned to flee, knowing the attempt to be in vain.

 The big man wrapped his arms about her. She kicked backwards at his shin, missing as he swung her round. Muriel was squirming in the scrawny man's grasp, her face so white she looked about to swoon.