Lady of Lincoln (15 page)

‘That is indeed a pretty gown you are wearing,’ remarked Dr Boyle rather shyly, remembering his
faux pas
earlier.

‘Thank you,’ Emily answered demurely. She had learned her lesson from Mr Trimmer and, since it seemed more likely than ever that the gown would be hers, decided to say no more on the matter.

‘I … er … that is to say, I …’

‘Yes, Dr Boyle?’ Emily prompted.

‘I can think of nothing wrong in the daughter of a clergyman wearing something pretty,’ he went on in rather painstaking
tones. ‘Or a daughter of a doctor doing so.’ He glanced at her quickly sideways and ploughed on. ‘I am of the opinion that a wife of a clergyman or of a … a … doctor, could also wear such a gown with a clear conscience.’

‘Then since I am a clergyman’s daughter, that must be of great comfort to me,’ Emily answered him.

‘Yes indeed,’ agreed Dr Boyle. He opened his mouth to make his meaning more plain, but before he could say anything, Emily spoke.

‘There is something that I have been wanting to tell you, Doctor, but I did not want to say it within earshot of my father, for fear of building up his hopes. A couple of days ago, I saw my grandfather open his eyes.’

‘You are certain?’ Dr Boyle replied, turning towards her now with that confident assurance that characterized all his
professional
dealings. ‘Many a person has thought that he has witnessed such a thing – in a mirror perhaps, or from a distance, but it has only been a trick of the light.’

‘No, it was not an illusion,’ Emily replied. ‘I was looking at him at the time, and I saw him slowly open his eyes, then close them again. Does this mean that he will recover, do you think?’

‘It is too early to say,’ he replied cautiously. ‘But I have known cases when a person has remained immobile as your grandfather has done for some time, then regained many of their faculties. It is as if the body decides that it needs a complete rest, and simply takes one. But although we must not be hasty here, I must say that it is a good sign.’

‘Oh, thank you!’ Emily cried, turning a glowing face towards him.

Sir Gareth and Mrs Hughes, following behind, were in an excellent position to see how the doctor beamed down at his companion in response. ‘What a charming end for this
expedition
it would be for Dr Boyle and Miss Whittaker to announce their engagement,’ mused Mrs Hughes. ‘A doctor and a
clergyman’s
daughter, neither of them in the first flush of youth.
What match could possibly be more suitable?’

The baronet’s response was merely a grunt.

Gainsborough Old Hall was indeed an impressive building at first glance, but on closer inspection, neglect could clearly be seen, from the untended garden, to the shabby paintwork and the occasional broken window.

‘What a pity,’ exclaimed Emily. ‘I can remember visiting it when I was quite a young child, and I’m sure it was not as bad then.’

‘Scenes from one’s childhood are always rosy,’ remarked the baronet.

‘No they ain’t,’ replied Lord Stuart. ‘I still remember the beating I got for climbing up onto the barn roof. That’s not a rosy memory.’

‘No, but I’ll wager your backside was,’ the baronet retorted.

‘Sir Gareth! You are in the presence of ladies!’ declared the doctor, shocked.

‘I beg your pardon, ladies,’ answered the baronet, bowing slightly, but there was still a twinkle in his eye.

When they had looked their fill at the Old Hall, they walked on to All Saints Church, which was only a short distance away. This time, Emily found herself walking with Sir Gareth, whilst Mrs Hughes set out to charm both Lord Stuart and Dr Boyle at the same time.

‘I suppose I should feel guilty that I have deprived the good doctor of his companion, especially when he was clearly
enjoying
your conversation so much,’ the baronet remarked. Moments later he could have kicked himself for a comment that would have been picked up by such as Mrs Hughes as an
example
of jealousy.

Emily, however, simply took his words at their face value. ‘He was telling me some good news about my grandfather,’ she said, and proceeded to inform him of the doctor’s opinion.

‘That is indeed encouraging,’ Sir Gareth answered. ‘For how long has he been in his present condition?’

Emily told him, and as she did so, he reflected what a strange household it was for a young woman to grow up in. No wonder she was different from other women he knew.

While these thoughts were going through his head, Emily began to speak once more. ‘Since we are talking about my family, sir, I must take the opportunity of thanking you for … for giving Patrick back to me.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ the baronet asked, mystified.

‘You told me your memories of him, and by doing so, in some way enabled memories of my own to be released,’ she explained. She began to recount the things that she had recalled as she lay in bed a short time before, together with one or two other cameos that had returned to her mind since then. He chuckled as she did so, and so did she, but suddenly, to her astonishment and mortification, she found that she was crying as well.

‘My dear Em— Miss Whittaker,’ he said concernedly. He glanced round. They were a little ahead of the rest of the party. ‘Come, we’ll walk round the outside of the church,’ he said. ‘It will give you a chance to compose yourself.’

Emily’s tears did not last for long. ‘I don’t know why I did that,’ she said apologetically. ‘Please forgive me.’

‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he answered, putting his
handkerchief
back in his pocket when he saw that her own was quite adequate for her needs. ‘I suspect that you were never really given a chance to mourn Patrick, and you are doing a little of that now.’ He paused briefly, then seeing that she was still
looking
a little downcast, he said teasingly, ‘You can have me for a brother, if you like.’

‘I don’t want you for a brother.’ The words were out of her mouth before she could recall them.

The teasing expression vanished from his face. ‘Forgive me,’ he said, inclining his head gravely. ‘I didn’t mean to presume.’

Emily stared at him in consternation. She wanted to explain to him that he was not presuming, but she could not think how
to tell him so without revealing that the reason why she did not want him for a brother was because the feelings that he kindled in her breast were not sisterly. She did not know how to say this without sounding either brazen or immodest. All she could manage before they came within earshot of the rest of the party was, ‘You were not presuming. You simply took me by surprise. It was a strange idea, that is all.’ The smile returned to his face, but it was not quite as warm as it had been before.

Although All Saints had a fine medieval tower, the body of it had been remodelled about fifty years before, and the visitors were pleased to approve the light, modern interior. As they were leaving, they were very surprised to find Mr and Mrs Trimmer entering but without Oliver and James.

‘The landlord came down to the quay and offered to take the boys back to the inn to play in the garden, since there were no boat rides available,’ the clergyman told them. ‘I knew that Aurelia would want to see the church so we came straight here.’

The others offered to wait, but Mr and Mrs Trimmer insisted that they would be quite happy to walk back alone, so the other five wandered towards the White Hart, taking a look at the market place by way of a small diversion.

‘No, no, I am going to walk back with Miss Whittaker,’ Mrs Hughes declared. ‘You gentlemen can keep your distance. I am going to tell her what wicked fellows you all are.’

‘I say, coz, I protest!’ exclaimed Lord Stuart. ‘Look at Boyle! He’s a physician! What could be more respectable? As for me, there’s no vice in me at all, I swear it. Ask anyone you like. Ask Blades here! Mind you, the things I could tell you about
him
…!’

‘Balderdash!’ retorted Sir Gareth cheerfully, but there was a hint of worry behind his eyes.

‘Now, my dear, we have got rid of the gentlemen so you can tell me everything,’ said Mrs Hughes in a confiding tone.

‘That would take rather a long time,’ Emily responded. Then, because she knew she must and because this was such a perfect
opportunity, she said, ‘Mrs Hughes, you must allow me to beg your pardon for being so abrupt when I met you in the street, yesterday. The fact of the matter is—’

‘Oh, think no more of it,’ replied the other carelessly. ‘I am sure I have not. But come, let us talk of more interesting topics. You know perfectly well that I am longing to know how matters stand between you and that charming doctor.’

Emily turned upon her an expression that was wholly baffled. She might have described the doctor as many things, but
charming
was not one of them.

For a moment, an impatient look crossed Mrs Hughes’s lovely features. Then, trying another approach, she said, ‘Has he proposed yet? I made sure that he would do so this afternoon. In fact, I was telling Gareth of my suspicions as we were walking behind you.’

‘And did he entertain the same suspicions?’ Emily asked.

‘Oh yes,’ responded Mrs Hughes, with a ruthless disregard for the truth. ‘In fact, I believe that it was his idea to invite the doctor today, to give him that very opportunity.’

‘That was very kind of Sir Gareth,’ answered Emily, finding that this notion hurt, but not really understanding why.

‘Oh, Gareth can be the kindest of men,’ replied Mrs Hughes blithely. ‘So much so, that many ladies have mistaken his
kindness
for something rather more … intimate, shall we say? And of course he cannot bring himself to repulse them; especially if they are past their last prayers.’ She stopped abruptly as if she had suddenly realized the infelicitous nature of what she had just said. ‘Of course, I do not mean you, dear Miss Whittaker,’ she went on rather awkwardly. ‘You are already spoken for. Though even there, I fear, dear Gareth can sometimes be rather naughty – testing just how faithful some ladies really are, you know. Of course, I am never jealous. I know where his
affections
really lie. And here we are, back at the White Hart Inn. What a lovely chat we have had, have we not? Such a pleasure to hear all your views.’

Emily was left reflecting that in fact, it had been Mrs Hughes who had been doing most of the talking, and half the time, she had been saying things that it had given Emily no pleasure to hear.

Mrs Hughes had not failed to notice that Emily had had a much better view of the gentlemen on the journey there, so on their return, she insisted on taking the backward facing seat. Mrs Trimmer was noticeably tired, and after Emily had assured her that she had no particular desire for conversation, the
clergyman’s
wife closed her eyes and dozed. Mrs Hughes exchanged desultory conversation with her cousin whilst Mr Trimmer and Sir Gareth kept a careful eye on a rather tired Oliver. This left Emily free to think her own thoughts for much of the time. Almost inevitably, in view of what had taken place during the day, she found herself thinking about the baronet. She found that she only had to think about Sir Gareth Blades, the smile in his eyes and the touch of that strong hand, and the colour came to her face, her breathing became shallow and her heart began to beat twice as fast as usual.

How kind he had been that afternoon, and how sensitive to her needs! She did not need Mrs Hughes to inform her that Sir Gareth Blades was kind. She had seen that in evidence in his care for his nephews, his sensitivity to her father’s feelings, even in his forbearance over Lord Stuart’s silliness. Might not his attentions to her spring from that same well of kindness; a
kindness
which had also prompted him to include Dr Boyle in the outing, believing him to be the man of her choice?

The problem with this theory was that there had been things that Sir Gareth had done and said which, if proceeding from kindness, could only indicate kindness of a very odd nature. Flirting with her, for example; looking at her ankles; even
kissing
her beneath the imp. Of course there was always the
possibility
that a society man might think that by showing an ageing spinster such attentions, he
was
being kind.

This was a lowering reflection, but it made no difference to
the way that she felt about him. She had been aware for some time that she was becoming fond of him; she had not really understood the nature of this fondness until that afternoon when he had offered to be her brother, and she had refused him. The affection that she had for him was of a very different nature.

I must be in love with him, she told herself in wonderment. It was such a powerful moment of self-awareness that she found herself looking at the other occupants of the barouche, certain that those around her must have picked up some signal from her. It was almost surprising that Mrs Trimmer should still be dozing, and that Mrs Hughes should be gazing idly at the
passing
scenery. For Emily, this new understanding meant that
nothing
could ever be the same again. The fact that Sir Gareth would never ever glance at a plain clergyman’s daughter of thirty except to be kind to his old friend’s sister made absolutely no difference to her feelings. Nor did the appearance of the elegant lady whom she had met so recently, and who was clearly intimate with the baronet; quite how intimate, she did not dare guess.

She had never before had any personal experience of love. She had learned something of its nature by observing the very real affection between Nathalie and her handsome husband, but naturally these observations were at second hand.

At one time, she had considered marrying Dr Boyle for all kinds of reasons of expediency. Now, she could hardly believe that she had even contemplated such a step. It almost seemed as if her love for the baronet had transformed her into a completely different person. All at once, to her astonishment, she realized that she could not marry the doctor, or, indeed, any man; for if she could not have the man whom she had met and fallen in love with so recently, then she did not want anyone at all.