The Daughters Of Red Hill Hall (10 page)

‘It is indeed a beautiful day, but I must decline your offer, my dear Sarah. Ah, here she is.’ Charles shook Sarah from his arm and bowed as Rebecca approached. ‘Rebecca! Good morning. How are you today?’

‘Very well, thank you. Shall I ring for some coffee for you?’

‘Thank you, no. If you are willing, I would rather like to walk in the grounds with you. There is something I should like to discuss.’ The last sentence was said quietly, as though Charles did not want Sarah, who still stood nearby, to hear.

Rebecca glanced at her. She had heard, and was glaring at them both. So Charles had brushed Sarah off in favour of her, Rebecca, then? That was unusual. He was usually too polite to risk offending either of them. She smiled up at him. ‘Yes, I should love to go for a walk. Let me just run upstairs and change my shoes and fetch a shawl.’

‘I shall wait for you on the terrace,’ he said, with a smile, and he strode away across the hall.

Rebecca ran upstairs towards her room. On the turn of the stairs she glanced down to see Sarah still standing there, staring up at her. She looked furious. She had obviously planned to intercept Charles and go riding with him. It was the first time he’d turned her down. Rebecca felt a little rush of guilty triumph at the knowledge Charles had this time very definitely chosen
her
over Sarah.

Minutes later Rebecca joined Charles on the terrace, and they set off through the formal gardens at the back of the hall, and towards the small lake fringed by weeping willows, which was Rebecca’s favourite part of the estate. Charles offered his arm and Rebecca took it, enjoying the warmth and strength of it under her hand. They talked of this and that, commenting on the buds just appearing on the trees, the mildness of the day for the time of year, the beauty of the swathe of daffodils under a spreading oak. Finally they reached the lakeside, where Charles pulled out a handkerchief to wipe down a white-painted wrought-iron bench. ‘Shall we rest a while?’

Rebecca sat, and gazed across the lake. ‘It is so beautiful here.’

‘It is indeed,’ he replied. She realised he was looking not at the view but at her. ‘Rebecca, you are more beautiful than the scene before us. I wonder – I know our parents had a long understanding that we should wed, but…’

She sighed and looked away. Here it was. He was about to declare his feelings for Sarah over her. She knew it. ‘Charles, it is all right. I do not hold you to that agreement. If you prefer another, then you must act on your feelings. My father will understand.’

He looked shocked. ‘No, my dear Rebecca, you misunderstand. Perhaps I am not expressing myself very clearly. What I wish to say is that regardless of whether our parents had an agreement, I would at this moment be wooing you anyway. I have developed deep feelings for you. I hope, and pray, that they are reciprocated in some way? If they are not then of course I will release you, but maybe, if you could contemplate a future as my wife, then…’

Rebecca stared at him. His deep brown eyes were wide and pleading with her to let him know her feelings. He cared for her! He wanted her! She wanted to throw her arms around his neck and kiss him in response to his words, but that was not quite the ladylike thing to do. She blushed deeply as she answered him. ‘Dear Charles, I should be delighted to be your wife. I know our parents, especially my mother, God rest her soul, always desired it, but more than that I too have grown to care for you over these last months. I think I should be very happy as your wife.’

‘Oh, Rebecca!’ Charles took her hands in his and leaned forward to claim a kiss – brief but soft and satisfying. Rebecca felt herself melt into his arms, and instinctively knew she belonged there.

‘We must go back to the house, and tell everyone our news! My father, and Sarah…’ Even as she said it, she felt her heart sink. What would Sarah think? What would she do? Despite Sarah’s insistence that she would be happy if Rebecca married Charles, it was obvious she had come to hope she could claim Charles for herself. Well, it was not to be. Charles had chosen, and proposed, and Rebecca had accepted.

‘Let’s keep it to ourselves, just for an hour or two,’ said Charles, with a smile. ‘We have not yet finished our walk. Come, let’s do a circuit of the lake.’ He held out his hand and Rebecca took it, skipping happily alongside her fiancé. Her fiancé!

They followed the path that led along the banks of the lake, looping around its western end. A small wooden footbridge crossed the stream, which flowed out of the end of the lake. As they threaded their way through the willows towards the bridge Rebecca spotted a flash of red – it was Sarah’s gown. She was crossing the bridge, then running up the hill away from the lake. Rebecca caught Charles’s arm. ‘Wait. I just glimpsed Sarah. Why is she running?’

Charles stepped forward and raised his hand to shield his eyes from the glare of the sun. ‘She’s gone up the hill. There’s someone else up there. A man.’

‘A man?’ Rebecca gasped. ‘Who?’

‘I can’t tell. I can only see an outline. They’re talking, standing close.’

Rebecca followed his pointing finger and saw them. As she watched, Sarah placed her hands on the other figure’s shoulders, reached up and either whispered in his ear or kissed him – they were too far away to tell.

‘She seems to know him well, whoever he is,’ said Charles. ‘Come, we should continue our walk. Unless you fear she is in some danger and I should go to her aid?’

Rebecca was still staring up the hill. Something about the way the man held himself was familiar. Yes, it was that farm labourer Sarah had sometimes spoken of, the one she admired. Jed Arthur.

‘She’s in no danger,’ she replied. ‘Except perhaps from herself.’

Charles glanced at her but said nothing. She took his arm and they turned about, walking back the way they had come. Well, Rebecca thought, no need to fear Sarah’s reaction on learning of her engagement. Sarah was clearly keeping her own secrets. There was still her father to tell. He would, she was sure, be delighted.

‘Splendid news, absolutely splendid!’ Mr Winton clapped his hands together in delight. ‘We shall open a bottle of the best wine for dinner this evening. And you, sir, or soon I may say “son”, will join us, will you not? In fact, stay. I shall have a guest room made up for you.’

Charles nodded. ‘I should be delighted. It will mean I may spend more hours in the presence of my beloved fiancée.’

Rebecca smiled happily up at him. They had gone straight to Papa’s study when they returned from their walk and found him absorbed in his accounts, but he hadn’t in the least minded being interrupted when he heard their news. ‘It is what Mama wanted, is it not, Papa?’

‘Yes, she very much hoped for this to come to pass.’ Papa beamed at them both. ‘Ah, is that Sarah I hear? Call her in. She too must hear our happy news!’

Charles went out to the hallway to summon Sarah. Rebecca bit her lip. What would her adopted sister’s reaction be to the news? An image of Sarah reaching up to kiss Jed Arthur crossed her mind. What was Sarah doing? Should she tell Papa?

‘Rebecca, you are happy with this union, are you not? Please don’t enter into it merely to please me, or for the sake of your dear mother’s memory. I want only what is best for you. You do understand that, don’t you?’ Papa crossed the room and took hold of her hands.

Rebecca realised she must have been looking concerned as she thought of Sarah. She smiled and hugged Papa. ‘Of course I understand it. Be assured, dear father, that I agreed to marry Charles because I love him with all my heart, and I believe that he loves me too.’

Papa smiled broadly, relief flooding across his face. ‘I am pleased to hear that. It means I will be able to go to my grave in the knowledge that you are in a secure and happy marriage. Charles has a large fortune so you will be well provided for, even if my own fortune is split between you and Sarah.’

‘But Papa, you are not going to your grave yet; please don’t speak so!’

‘Not yet, my dear, but it will happen one day. And you must…’ He broke off as the door to the study opened and Sarah entered, followed by Charles.

‘Charles says you have some news I must hear,’ Sarah said, looking from Rebecca to Papa.

Rebecca stared at her feet. Who should be the one to tell Sarah? She supposed she ought to, being closest to her, but felt herself unable to find the right words. Charles crossed the room and stood at her side, placing an arm around her shoulder. Rebecca glanced up at Sarah. Charles’s gesture had told her everything. As Papa began to speak – ‘We have wonderful news! Rebecca is to be married to Charles!’ – Sarah glared at Rebecca as though she had done her a grievous wrong.

Rebecca opened her mouth to speak but Sarah got in first, quickly rearranging her expression into one of delight. ‘Why, that is, erm, wonderful news, dear sister. I hope you will both be very happy. Don’t forget, I shall always be with you, as your companion, for as long as you will deign to have me at your side. Now please, excuse me, for I am tired from my walk and must rest a while before dinner.’ She turned and left the room.

‘Ahem. I would have thought she might have shown more enthusiasm for your match. Perhaps she’ll be more excited for you at dinner time. I’m sure she’s delighted. You two have always been so close. Well then. I suppose I must return to the more mundane matters of the estate accounts. Off you two youngsters go and I shall see you both at dinner.’ Papa returned to his desk and waved a genial hand at them.

‘What do you think is wrong with Sarah?’ Charles asked, as they left the study and went into the drawing room.

Rebecca wondered how to answer. Sarah was jealous, that was obvious, but if she told Charles that, might he wonder if he could have picked Sarah instead? Despite what he had said when he proposed, she still felt that possibly he might deep down prefer Sarah.

‘I don’t know. I wonder if her mood has anything to do with that farmhand we saw her with? I think she is keeping secrets from Papa and me.’ She watched Charles frown and shake his head slightly. Good. If she could turn him against Sarah she would feel more secure. For the first time in her life she wished that there was no Sarah to share everything with. She wanted Charles for herself.

Chapter 9

May 2015

Gemma left work a few minutes early with Roger’s permission. She needed time to pop to the supermarket and pick up a few things. Ben was coming round that evening. She’d hoped they might have a night out, perhaps to their favourite bistro, but he’d said he would rather come round to her flat as there were things they needed to discuss. She guessed he wanted to get started on setting a date and finding a wedding venue, Gemma thought, as she walked up the main street, away from the museum and towards the supermarket.

It was a bright, sunny evening. If she had a garden she’d have suggested they sit outside this evening. Something for the ‘must-have’ list for the house they’d buy together. She’d already given their wedding and future together plenty of thought, and had written several lists on her laptop at home. She’d also bought a few bridal magazines. It was time they talked about all this together. If they wanted to get married next summer they’d need to find a venue quickly. The summer months always got booked up a year or more ahead.

She whizzed around the supermarket collecting the ingredients for a dish of spaghetti with chilli, prawns and courgettes. It was an old favourite, took minutes to prepare, and always had Ben exclaiming what a great cook she was. As an afterthought she threw in a bottle of Prosecco. It may be over a month since Ben had proposed but she still felt like celebrating their engagement at every possible opportunity.

She still hadn’t properly celebrated it with Nat, however. At first she’d put that down to Nat’s illness – a bad bout of flu that had her off work for a fortnight. Then even when Nat was better she claimed she couldn’t drink and was too weak to go out much. Gemma had held off, assuming that once Nat was back to full fitness and ready to go out to the pub again, they’d get the chance to drink to her engagement together. It just hadn’t happened yet. She’d barely seen Nat – when Nat had been ill she hadn’t seemed to want Gemma there, and then once she was back at work, their days off had rarely coincided. That was the problem with having customer-facing jobs – the hours were rarely nine-to-five or Monday to Friday. It was sometimes hard enough finding days to spend with Ben.

With the shopping bought she hurried home and got everything prepared, the table set and the sitting room tidied before the time Ben was due. She grinned. She was turning into a proper little housewife. Her mother would be proud. Well, as long as Ben didn’t expect this every night once they were living together. Unless he did it at least fifty per cent of the time…

The doorbell rang at precisely the moment she was expecting Ben. Just like him to be on time and not to use the key she’d given him. She let him in and reached up for a kiss.

‘Erm, I brought you these,’ said Ben, gently pushing her away, and producing a bouquet of spray carnations from behind his back. Not the most imaginative of flowers but a lovely gesture. Gemma was touched. He’d only bought ever her flowers on her birthday before.

‘Lovely! How sweet of you – what’s the occasion?’ She felt a sudden panic – was it exactly a month since they’d got engaged? If so, she should have remembered, and got something for him… Did people celebrate their one-month engagement anniversaries? What was the etiquette? There ought to be a handbook for newly engaged couples.

‘No occasion. Just, well, I just felt like buying them for you. Shall I put them in water?’ He stepped around her and into the kitchen.

‘Sure, thanks. There’s a vase in that cupboard. You bought them simply because you love me, right? Looking forward to plenty more, if that’s the case!’ Gemma skipped happily after him and wrapped her arms around him from behind.

‘Erm, yes. I suppose.’ Ben pulled himself out of her grasp and filled the vase with water. He pushed past her to take them into the sitting room, and placed them on the middle of the coffee table. ‘Is it OK if I put them here?’

‘Yes, lovely. Right, I’ll open the Prosecco and get cooking then.’ Gemma reached into a cupboard for a couple of champagne glasses.