Emily Greenwood (15 page)

“There’s to be a picnic outing tomorrow,” he said. “You and your father will come, of course.” He said it pleasantly, but he was not offering her a choice.

She knew she most certainly could not spend the day at a country picnic with James and his guests. That would surely be the end of any resolve she had left to get him away from Tethering. And get him away she must.

“No, thank you,” she said. “We shall not be coming.”

He lifted an eyebrow. “We had an agreement, Felicity.”

“Yes,” she said, and forced coldness into her voice, “but we’ve done enough tonight to create for your guests the illusion that there are no hard feelings between us.”

Felicity’s words stung James. Had they only been creating an illusion that night? That wasn’t what it had felt like. He regarded her unflinchingly, allowing the silence to drag out, so that she felt forced to continue.

“I’ve already played the friendly neighbor!” she said in a tighter voice, as if she were very tense. “What more do you want from me?”

His eyebrows shot up at her mention of playing the friendly neighbor, which could only remind them both of Mirabelle’s visit earlier that day. Her hazel eyes grew stormy.

“We do
not
need to come.”

He wanted to growl in frustration. Where was his laughing temptress of earlier, who had teased him in front of his guests? He wanted her back, the smiling minx who laughed and flirted, not this woman who only refused him. He wasn’t going to do anything to her, not any of the things his fantasies had already supplied. But he needed her to be as she had been. They could at least enjoy one another’s company. He wasn’t ready to give that up.

“But you will,” he said in a voice that would brook no argument. “It’s Miranda’s birthday tomorrow, and I want it to be a special day for her. She has taken a liking to you and your father, I can see that, and she would be very disappointed if you didn’t come.”

Her face registered a struggle between warring impulses, no doubt between wanting to tell him to go to the devil and not wanting to hurt his sweet, kind aunt. James was fairly certain he could count on her essentially good nature winning out. He really hoped he was right. Funny how the idea of a picnic without Felicity now sounded like a day without sunshine.

“You’re fond of blackmail, aren’t you?”

“I do whatever it takes to achieve my plans. I hardly think you have grounds to complain, Mirabelle-Annabelle. And there’d better not be any other ‘belles’ lurking about.”

“Oh, very well,” she grumbled, looking down at where her hands hung clasped against her black gown, “we will come.”

“Good,” he said, and his hand lifted to brush against her soft cheek even before he’d willed it. She looked up, startled, and he experienced a small victory in her look of astonishment mingled with pleasure as he pulled away. In the next moment Mr. Wilcox’s footsteps could be heard approaching the entryway, and they stepped abruptly apart. But not before she shot him a terrific scowl.

***

James and Miranda were the only two down early for breakfast the next morning, and he was glad for some time alone with her. Looking at her as she sat across from him, a smallish, trim, older woman with graying hair and wrinkles where once her handsome face had been smooth, James was acutely aware that she was of an age when health began to decline. Miranda had been like a mother to him, and the thought that he might be out of the country when she needed him worried him. Catching his eye, she smiled at him, bringing out the crow’s feet that added life to her gray-blue eyes.

Was it right to leave her without a family member while he was gone? She was in good health, vigorous even, but she was getting older. Maybe he should decide now, before leaving, to limit how long he would be away.

“You look pensive, my dear,” she said, regarding him over her teacup.

He smiled. “I’d like you to come to live at Granton as soon as it’s back in my control.”

“Why, thank you, that’s a delightful idea. I’ve always loved Granton.”

He knew that familiar anger that surged whenever he thought of his brother and the endless troubles Charles had caused. “I’m sorry that you haven’t been able to be there these last three years.”

“Don’t worry,” she said.

“Well, once I pay off the debt and we can return to Granton, I want to see you happily settled there. But I will also have to be gone sometimes.”

Her eyes narrowed into a shrewd look. “And you’re wondering how this aging old aunt of yours will get along without you to look after her.”

He frowned. “Miranda, you are as vigorous as a young lady, but I do worry about leaving you without family for months at a time.”

She put her cup down and smiled confidently. “Well, you can put your mind to rest, dear. I’ll never be entirely alone again. Josephine has become a good friend to me, and Louisa will always be with me in spirit, which is a great comfort.”

He cleared his throat. This was a delicate subject to approach. “As to that, Miranda, I am a bit concerned about this medium of yours, this Madame Lottie.”

“Why should you be? She’s done me a great service in helping me to communicate with dear Louisa. I am grateful to her.”

“Yes,” he said slowly, considering how best to proceed. “I’m delighted if she’s brought you happiness. It’s just that, well, to be frank, people like Madame Lottie have been known to accept a great deal of money from their clients. I want to be sure that she is not one of those people.”

She gazed at her empty cup, not meeting his eyes. When she spoke, her voice was very quiet. “I don’t expect you to understand this, James. You’re all about reason and logic, and this has to do with the heart and the spirit.”

Damn, he’d gone at it wrong. He didn’t want Miranda to feel he was judging her.

“Yes, I do give her money,” she continued. “It’s small compensation for what she offers me.”

She looked up at him then, and he knew they would not discuss the matter any longer just now. But he was no more at ease with it than he had been when he raised it. He didn’t like the idea that, once they had regained Granton Hall, she would be alone there with just the servants for company when he was gone to Spain or London. What if she
were
going senile, as he had feared when she first spoke of speaking with Louisa? Though she seemed lucid enough now. But she was too trusting—more trusting than he could ever be—and that might lead to her being taken advantage of. Older people were not infrequently abused by servants. But he saw that he couldn’t express any of these concerns to Miranda. She would be insulted and hurt.

They ate in silence until she spoke several minutes later. “Tethering Estate is a very nice property.”

“Yes, isn’t it?” he grinned. He was pleased with his success at Tethering. The house was shaping up nicely, and the crew of workers Felicity was directing had the orchard in healthy condition. He still had much of the five hundred pounds he’d won at hazard left, and he had received word yesterday that all was going according to plan for the sale of the sherry. The receipts from the sherry, along with the five hundred pounds and the proceeds from the sale of Tethering, would pay off Charles’s debt, though James would not have much left in the end. But once the debt was cleared, he could begin receiving the rents again, and the bodega would keep producing. All would be well. Although, now when he thought about selling Tethering—leaving it—the idea held less dazzle and charm than it first had when he won the estate and saw how it might solve his problems. He didn’t want to think about why. He couldn’t afford to.

“I almost like it more than Granton Hall,” Miranda said carefully, watching him as she spoke.

He didn’t like hearing her say that, but he had to acknowledge that his own affection for Tethering had grown. Granton Hall was not charming or intimate, but a statement of a family’s excellent lineage. The Collingtons were an old family that had for three hundred years been respected landowners and members of the House of Commons. Now, thanks to Charles, that respectability was tarnished, but James was going to see it righted.

“And how do the Wilcoxes feel about you being here?” she continued. “It must be a bitter pill, though they handled themselves admirably last night.”

He tugged at his shirt collar, which was annoyingly tight. Fulton must have shrunk it. “I don’t think Mr. Wilcox minds much at all, but Miss Wilcox is not happy about it.” A gross understatement, but Miranda did not need to know the details. He shrugged. “That’s fate for you.”

“Fate?” she repeated. “Hmmph.”

“I’ll have to sell it to pay off the debt. And then we can return to Granton Hall, where we belong.”

“Ah. I see.” She paused. “James, do you care about securing Granton Hall because you love it, or because you’re angry with Charles?”

Her words startled him. For the last three years, he’d been unable to think of Granton without a sick feeling because of what Charles had done. Very well, truth be told, perhaps he did not so much pine for its familiar buildings and land at the moment as yearn for it not to be tainted. “Both, of course.”

“The scandal was three years ago. So what if people then gasped in delighted dismay about Charles Collington’s downfall and savored the gossip they heard about the estate? I doubt anyone remembers now, or cares. Except you. Charles was always a thorn in your side, wasn’t he? Too loud, too undisciplined, too emotional. He was excess while you are quite the opposite. He must have been an embarrassing sibling.”

James didn’t want to dredge up anything to do with his brother. He simply wanted to go forward. “The Collington name is a good and old name, and it deserves to be respected.”

“You can’t forgive him for what happened, can you, James?”

“I can hardly forget. He saddled me with a huge debt!”

She sighed. “You’re right, James, but being right won’t make you happy. Charles is dead, and he cannot offer explanation or apology. We can’t even be sure that he didn’t just make a mistake about the amount, or that he wasn’t convinced he would soon have the money to pay the debt.”

“Yes,” James said drily, “with the hospital funds he took.”

Miranda grimaced. “Charles was doubtless more grandly flawed than many of us. Too inclined to work deals and exaggerate his own capacities. But it doesn’t matter anymore because now he’s gone. And the only one who’s suffering is you.”

“I am not ‘suffering,’ as you put it, but I would like to point out that I am hugely out of funds still, thanks to my brother.”

“Nonsense, James. Even without Granton Hall, you now have a fine home here at Tethering, plus the proceeds from your bodega. I’d say you’ve done very well for yourself.” She paused. “I hope you won’t undervalue what you’ve already achieved.”

“On the contrary, Miranda, I am quite satisfied that things will work out as well as I might have hoped.”

She sighed and reached over to caress his cheek with a gentle stroke. “James,” she gave a half smile, “you always did have wonderful things you were going to do. And now you
have
done some good things. Why not let go of the past and stop to enjoy what you’ve accomplished?”

He could only smile quizzically at her.

The day of the picnic outing was quite glorious, a quintessential English summer day. The sun shone in a soft blue cloudless sky and the air was light and fresh, carrying with it the teasing scents of myriad blossoms. A breeze gently lifted the leaves in the trees now and then. All nature seemed to be in harmony.

By late morning the carriages that would take the picnic party on their outing were being loaded. Felicity stood waiting in the drive with her father and watching Lydia and Alice, Sir Robert Dunlop and Lady Dunlop’s young daughters, flitting about in their yellow frocks like two butterflies. The little girls were eager to get going, and they circled their parents insistently and badgered the servants loading hampers with their questions, and unknowingly charmed Felicity all the while. It was a bittersweet feeling, because giving up her hope of marriage all those years ago had meant saying no to children. And while that hadn’t seemed such a sacrifice at seventeen, now it truly did. She couldn’t allow herself to consider this now, she knew, or she’d be lost to tears, emotion, foolish behavior. Envy was wrong, it was poison to the spirit, she reminded herself.

She decided then that she would treat the picnic day as if it were outside of time. She would allow herself to enjoy whatever pleasures presented themselves. Today was a gift. She might as well have one full day of freely enjoyed pleasure in the company of James and his family. He would be gone soon, apparently, off to be an MP and see to his other business. And all their time together would simply be part of the past.

“Aren’t you done yet, Fulton?” cried Lydia in her high little voice, dancing around at the man’s feet. His arms were full of a large picnic blanket.

“Not quite yet, miss,” came the muffled but patient reply.

“Lydia, leave Fulton alone,” scolded her older and much wiser sister. “You’re going to make it take longer to be ready.”

“Oh, do sit down, girls,” Lady Dunlop implored her children. With reluctance they seated themselves under a tree and began pulling up violets.

Finally it was time to go and the party set out in two carriages, with the Wilcox and Dunlop families riding together in one and James and the rest of his guests in the other. Mr. Block was apparently going to conduct some local business during the day, and so did not join the picnic.

They drove for perhaps half an hour, to a spot among a low sequence of hills where the first raspberries of summer were growing in large patches on the sunny slopes. The little girls escaped happily from the carriage, bubbling over with plans to pick as many berries as possible.

Hal announced that he wished to stroll along the stream at the bottom of the hills and then climb them for a view of the surrounding countryside and issued a general invitation. Lila Pendleton, James, and Aunt Miranda agreed to come along, and Mr. Wilcox declined politely and sat down with barely concealed eagerness to read peacefully under a tree. Felicity volunteered to go berry-picking with Lydia and Alice, while their grateful parents rested on a picnic blanket. The servants began unpacking lunch.

Felicity followed along behind the little pastel butterflies as they rushed excitedly from clump to clump of ripe red berries, shouting whenever they saw a cluster and eating as many as they put into their baskets. She had been picking for about a quarter of an hour when she became aware of a rustling sound several feet from her. Lifting her head to see what it was—perhaps a rabbit she could point out to the girls—she realized that it was coming from behind an enormous, thickly overgrown patch of raspberry canes that was hopelessly intertwined with a stand of forsythia bushes. But it wasn’t a rabbit after all, she realized as she drew closer. Someone, no doubt one of their party, had strolled over that way and was speaking.

Not wishing to eavesdrop, she was about to make her way closer to the children, who were begging her to come see how many berries were in their patch, when she heard Mrs. Pendleton’s sharp voice from the other side of the bushes.

“James, what are you up to here?”

“What do you mean, Lila?” came James’s voice. “Aren’t we just taking a walk? You were the one who wanted to come this way.”

She made a sound of exasperation. “I mean at this piddling little estate, Tethered Up or Dithering or whatever it’s called. It’s practically a hovel compared to Granton Hall. Why spend a whole month here when you could settle things and be off to Granton?”

Felicity’s blood started to boil at such dismissive treatment of her beloved home, but then she reminded herself that she did not really care about the opinions of Lila Pendleton, fashionable snob. And that people who listened to others’ conversations heard things they did not like. But now she could not move. She had to hear what James would say.

“I like Tethering,” he replied. “I find it charming. And I need to see to some renovations.”

“Really, James, you must have done just about all that can possibly be done to that little manor already. Fulton can see to the rest. Why don’t you come back to London with me tomorrow?”

He laughed. “Actually, you’d be surprised at what could go wrong at a place like Tethering Hall.”

Felicity blushed as his words.

He continued, “Anyway, I quite like it there. It’s peaceful.”

“Peaceful! Ha!” scoffed Mrs. Pendleton. “What’s keeping you there isn’t peace, James Collington. It’s Felicity Wilcox.”

Felicity strained toward the bushes, trying desperately to lean closer without making any movements that would cause sound. She had to hear his reply.

“Miss Wilcox,” he said, “is an unusual and interesting woman. Rather a funny little country mouse, I grant you.”

A funny country
mouse
? Had he really just called her that?

“I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think nobody is watching,” Mrs. Pendleton said. “There’s something between you.”

A sharp cry from up ahead suddenly drew Felicity’s attention, and she turned to the direction where the girls had been picking berries.

“Miss Wilcox!” Alice was shouting and waving her arms. Alarmed, Felicity rushed over to the girls and discovered that little Lydia had tumbled into the raspberry patch. Felicity’s face was still flaming from the conversation she had overheard even as she gently extricated the tearful child and inspected two small scratches.

James and Mrs. Pendleton arrived a few moments later, having heard the commotion. When it became apparent that Lydia was all right, James suggested that they all rejoin the group for lunch. Felicity watched Mrs. Pendleton and James walk in front of her. They had been lovers, she guessed, and maybe they still were. That was why Mrs. Pendleton talked so freely with him of his affairs. But this hard woman shouldn’t be James’s type, Felicity thought, pressing her lips. The widow was all snobbish
ton
, concerned with nothing but fashion and society, while James was noble, devilish, playful—and far too good a man for Mrs. Pendleton. Felicity was horribly jealous, and also more than a little disgusted with him for liking Mrs. Pendleton at all.

Felicity took her seat on one of the picnic blankets next to Lady Dunlop. The luncheon offering looked delicious; Cook had clearly maintained her sobriety and outdone herself. But Felicity wasn’t hungry. She nibbled halfheartedly at a thin piece of cold beef and watched James talking to his aunt and her father. The sunlight was dancing in his wavy black hair and he was grinning at something Miranda had said. Did the man, in addition to being a dutiful nephew, have to be kind to Felicity’s father and hardworking and smart? Couldn’t the man who won Tethering have been nasty and boorish with buckteeth and a paunch? Couldn’t he have been like Lady Pincheon-Smythe’s nephew, whom, God help her, she was meant to consider a suitor?

She swallowed a piece of beef that might just as well have been a wad of stocking for all that she tasted it.

“Well, Miss Wilcox,” Lady Dunlop said, breaking into her thoughts. “It must be awkward having my cousin owning your family home.”

Felicity almost choked, so startled was she by Lady Dunlop’s frankness. Swallowing with difficulty, she glanced at her father, to see if he had heard, but he was deep in conversation with Aunt Miranda.

She thought to dissemble but caught the steady look in Lady Dunlop’s eyes and decided she would answer truthfully. “It was awkward at first, but James has been… considerate. A good neighbor.”

“I see,” the other woman said in a way that suggested she had a good enough imagination to guess how Felicity might feel. “James has always been both lucky and able to make the most of what he had.”

Felicity said nothing.

“He lands on his feet,” his cousin continued. “But then, he makes his own luck.”

Lady Dunlop considered Felicity. “Had you never heard of the Collingtons before he came here?”

“No,” she replied drily, “but apparently I should have.”

Lady Dunlop chuckled. “The family has been entwined with the running of the country for generations. About three years ago there was a notorious family scandal that provided entertainment for the gossip sheets for several weeks. His brother Charles, an MP, was unfortunately killed while making off with a large amount of money entrusted to him for a hospital building fund. Once Charles was dead, it came out that he’d ruined the family fortunes. That was why James went to Spain.”

Felicity was astonished. James wasn’t rich? “He ran away to Spain?” she asked incredulously.

Lady Dunlop laughed. “Of course not. He went there to make his fortune in order to clear the debts. That’s why he bought the bodega.”

Felicity blinked. “So he’s not wealthy?”

“Wasn’t. But he’s on the way up again. Because of the success he’s made of the bodega.” Lady Dunlop looked rueful. “Acquiring your home was, I’m afraid, a valuable coup for him.”

“I see,” Felicity said. Everything was so much clearer now. Tethering wasn’t anything like a new toy for James, or simply a challenge. The estate’s rents would be the means to remake his future—no wonder he was putting such effort into its workings. “He never said.”

Lady Dunlop gave a wry half smile. “Well, he wouldn’t, would he?”

No, of course he wouldn’t, Felicity thought as her companion’s attention was claimed by Lydia. James needed Tethering, she thought. It had never occurred to her that he
needed
it at all.

She had a sudden urge to give up her whole plan to get back Tethering. Knowing he needed it, she suddenly found she actually wanted him to have it. She felt a rush of forgiveness toward him—he was no longer her adversary at all, but someone who needed Tethering, just as she did. Well, not quite as much. He was still much better off than the Wilcoxes, obviously. But now she felt compassion for him. He’d had troubles too, though he gave no sign of them.

She tugged wretchedly at a patch of weedy grass growing near her edge of the picnic blanket, her heart rioting. What would happen if she gave up trying to make Tethering unpleasant and embarrassing for him?

He might stay.

She couldn’t have that. She would be just down the hill from him, at Blossom Cottage, inescapably close. He was too fascinating. Completely irresistible.

Oh, how had things come to this? She hadn’t been yearning for someone to come along and change her life. All right, she’d had her silly moments of wishing for a fairy godmother to fix all their money troubles and cure Jonathan of his gambling. And maybe she had, once or twice, allowed herself to wish she’d never made that mistake with Crispin, that she might be able to marry. But that kind of thinking turned too easily to pity, and she had been so fulfilled by what she did for Tethering that it had been easy to let those kinds of thoughts go.

James was so different from anyone she had ever known. She flushed hotly, remembering how wonderful, how magical it felt to be in his arms. Truthfully, she wanted to be there now. And she knew he wanted her there too.

Clearly she’d allowed herself to get too caught up with him. Her life wasn’t about thrills and adventure, even if some foolish part of her seemed to crave it. She was a girl who liked to be busy with something meaningful, the way running Tethering had been meaningful, even if the meaning had been in small things, like creating the right environment for an apple tree to fruit, being a caring mistress to her servants, and sharing a meal with her father from the produce of their estate. James Collington was a confident risk-taker, blithe adventure-seeker, and heart-palpitation-inducing charmer whose world was filled with powerful, glamorous people. Not what this “funny country mouse” needed at all, even if she could have had him. Which she couldn’t.

Oh, what did it matter who he was anyway? One way or another, he would be gone at the end of the summer. And, she very much feared, he would be taking a little piece of her heart with him. It must only be a very little piece.

Lady Dunlop was still talking. “I think,” she said, “that what James needs is the adventure of marriage and parenthood, which I am here to tell you must be infinitely more jaw-dropping than anything he’s yet encountered.”

After this astonishing statement, she smiled kindly at Felicity. “I’m afraid I am more outspoken than is proper, but as you have no doubt noticed from my cousin Hal, it is a family failing.”

The other woman’s frankness left Felicity breathless. But she quite liked her. “I prefer plain speaking myself.”

After that, Lady Dunlop was apparently pleased to move on from discussing James, for which Felicity could not have been more grateful.

She was surprised to notice, as she ate her lunch, that her father had abandoned his solitary reading and seemed to be conversing very animatedly with Aunt Miranda. Felicity couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he looked so happy and engaged, gesticulating occasionally as Miranda nodded and talked, that Felicity realized her father might have been lonely for the company of people his own age. Of a woman his own age. She certainly couldn’t be surprised if he was enjoying Miranda’s company; Felicity liked her very much herself.

When lunch was over, Felicity allowed Alice and Lydia to lead her over to the little stream that ran at the bottom of the hill. She sat talking with them and let them undo her hair and thread violets and buttercups in the loose strands. The girls named her Fairy Queen Felicitania and made her a ring and bracelet of braided clover flowers.