The Land of Summer
Read The Land of Summer Online
Authors: Charlotte Bingham
About the Book
As the eldest of four daughters, American heiress Emmaline Nesbitt has always understood that she is obliged to wed. But no proposals have so far come her way, until at a ball in her family home she meets Julius, a handsome and charming Englishman who wastes no time in proposing to her. Shortly after, Emmaline sails to England for her wedding.
What awaits her on arrival is a long way from her expectations. She is brought to a strange house full of odd guests and eccentric servants – a far cry from the fine home Julius had promised – as well as a very different Julius. As the days go by, her fiancé changes beyond recognition, so much so that Emmaline believes there is no future to their relationship. But that is before Julius’s past, and the history of his family and background make themselves plain to her.
Contents
THE LAND
OF SUMMER
Charlotte Bingham
For the Duke
Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds
… it is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken …
Shakespeare,
Sonnet 116
ENGLAND IN THE 1880s
Chapter One
Massachusetts, the 1880s
AS ALWAYS, EMMALINE
Nesbitt found herself sitting all too demurely on the sidelines pretending not to notice that everyone else was dancing, while next door in the smoking room the man who was to be responsible for the sudden change in her fortunes picked up a fresh hand of cards and wondered whether now might be the time to allow his host to start to win back a proportion of the money he had lost. Normally such a thought would never enter the head of a card player as experienced as he, but tonight he was playing a different game and there was good reason for feeling as he did. He was not seated at the card table just for pleasure, as he would be the first to admit, although there was a great deal of pleasure to be gained for a gentleman finding himself in such opulent surroundings. No, this well-bred, handsome Englishman was here on business, on purpose to try to secure the future of a firm based thousands of miles away back across the Atlantic.
So far it had been good; all the carefully prearranged introductions had very soon led to invitations to meetings in New York and Chicago and finally to this house, the principal residence of the Nesbitt family, in Massachusetts. The decision as to whether the Nesbitt & Nesbitt catalogue should carry the furniture, designs and materials of Aubrey & Aubrey Ltd had not yet been taken, but he had the distinct feeling that the scales were tipping heavily in his favour. It might need one more discreet and subtle
coup
, but Julius Aubrey carried more than one trick up his perfectly tailored sleeve, and if he needed to come up with one more match-winning play then he most certainly would, so necessary did it seem to him to land a deal that would ensure the continuing prosperity of everyone connected with Aubrey & Aubrey Ltd, but most of all of himself.
And so the Englishman decided that now was the time to allow his host to stage a dramatic recovery and claw back some of the considerable amount of money he had wagered and lost across the table in the past hour, even though, as Julius well knew, Mr Onslow Nesbitt was a man who possibly carried more spending money in his wallet than most men earn in a year. Yet so much did Julius Aubrey enjoy winning – as much as he hated losing – that for a moment he hesitated, allowing himself to wonder, albeit briefly, how he would feel if he let his host win back most of his money only for the business proposition
to
founder, leaving him to go back to England empty-handed.
As a matter of fact, he knew exactly how he would feel – very foolish indeed. However, remembering exactly what was at stake and what the alternatives were, he regretfully buried any idea of walking away from the card table a winner and thought instead of the long game, beginning to apply his considerable card-playing skills to making it look as if his host was playing brilliantly, and he himself was not losing quite deliberately.
‘Congratulations, sir,’ he said to Nesbitt as the final cards were collected up with the losing chips. ‘I think that was possibly the most dextrous series of hands played this evening.’
‘Most kind of you, sir,’ Nesbitt replied. ‘Coming from someone who was providing an object lesson in how to play poker, I consider that the highest of compliments. But now, if you gentlemen are in agreement,’ he added, stubbing out his cigar and pushing his chair back from the green baize table, ‘I think that if any of our marriages are to survive, we should perhaps show our faces once more in the ballroom.’
‘I am sorry Mrs Nesbitt did not feel well enough to attend this quite splendid function,’ Aubrey remarked to his host as they re-entered the ballroom.
‘Mrs Nesbitt is rarely well enough to attend anything, Mr Aubrey,’ Onslow Nesbitt growled. ‘Other than to herself.’
‘A shame, sir. You have my sympathies.’
‘Most kind of you, Mr Aubrey, but I don’t need’em. I know plenty of other fine ladies who take to their beds for quite different reasons.’
‘I see your charming daughters are greatly in demand,’ Aubrey observed quickly, noting the three beautiful Nesbitt girls being danced around the floor by three highly presentable young men.
‘My girls are always in demand,’ Nesbitt replied, selecting a fresh cigar from a box of Havanas brought to him by a servant. ‘All except, alas, my poor Emmaline’ – Onslow Nesbitt nodded across the floor in the direction of his eldest daughter – ‘or rather the eternal sitter, as her mother calls her.’
‘Still can’t get her off your hands, eh, Onslow?’ a large red-faced gentleman asked his host, adding a nudge for good measure. ‘Still can’t find a husband for her, eh?’
‘Maybe not, Horace,’ Onslow replied, lighting his cigar, ‘but then perhaps that’s preferable to seeing her hitched to that son of yours.’
‘I would say you lucky gentlemen are spoiled for choice over here,’ Aubrey remarked. ‘In England today any young man worth his salt would be charmed to consider taking a young lady with the looks, grace and background of Miss Emmaline Nesbitt as a wife, I can assure you.’
‘Is that a fact, Mr Aubrey?’ Onslow wondered, eyeing his guest. ‘Is that a fact? In that case perhaps you would be kind enough to take her back to England with you?’
Aubrey looked startled for a moment, and then amused. ‘I am sure any man would be charmed to introduce Miss Nesbitt to English society,’ he said.
‘Please, do not hesitate on my account.’ Onslow Nesbitt was laughing. ‘If you took Emmaline from us you would also take with you the undying gratitude of the whole Nesbitt family, Mr Aubrey.’
Seeing his host distracted by friends who had come up to greet him, the Englishman narrowed his eyes to peer through the throng of dancers at the young woman sitting alone on a chair pulled up close to a pillar decorated with strands of ivy and hand-made flowers. He quickly noted that she had a good figure and a fine head of hair, was dressed well, and sat with great poise and stillness, and as he watched her it occurred to his mischievous mind that here were the makings of a
coup
that might well seal the deal.
From her position on the sidelines, Emmaline had seen the party emerge from the smoking room to stand surveying the dance. The orchestra was playing a tune that she particularly loved, but while her three beautiful and much sought-after younger sisters were getting their chance to show off their dancing skills on the floor, Emmaline had yet again found herself stationed on a gilt chair, her dance card unfilled, her composure belying the humiliation of being once more the only Nesbitt girl not dancing.
She held her dance card high in front of her
face
, pretending to consult it, as she took another glance at the party of gentlemen still standing at the end of the corridor that led to the smoking room. Among their number was the handsome Englishman who she knew had come over to do business with her father. His re-emergence must, she knew, give hope to those young ladies who had not had the luck to attract any dance partners. Not that Emmaline herself entertained any foolish notions, not by any means. She knew her place all too well. It was on a gilt chair, watching, always watching, as the rest of the world danced by her.
She had, as always, resigned herself to her seat, maintaining her upright stance, trying not to notice that when her sisters danced past her they averted their eyes, as if she was nothing to do with them, so that when she glanced over the top of her dance card and found
him
looking directly at her, surprise made her forget her manners for a moment and she stared straight back at him. She recollected herself almost immediately and dropped her gaze, but out of the corner of her eye she watched with mounting astonishment as he adjusted the set of his tail coat, checked the position of his white bow tie between thumb and finger of one gloved hand, and crossed the dance floor to her side.
There has to be some mistake
, Emmaline thought, as she looked to the right of her and the left. Both chairs were empty.
Or perhaps he has brought a message from Papa
.
‘Miss Nesbitt,’ the stranger said, standing directly in front of her, which made even Emmaline realise that there could be no mistake. ‘Miss Nesbitt, forgive me. We met briefly before dinner, but since then …’ Seeing her bewilderment, he started again. ‘Miss Nesbitt, I am not sure whether you are aware of it or not, but I am from England, come here to do business in this great country of yours.’
‘Mr Aubrey,’ Emmaline replied quietly, accepting his hand while finding herself looking anywhere except at his face. ‘Of course I recall who you are and why you are here. It is not often that we have visitors from across the Atlantic.’
‘Excellent. That makes me a prize exhibit,’ Aubrey replied gaily. ‘And while I am sure there is little hope for me, I was nevertheless wondering whether perhaps, when you glance at your dance card, you might find that you have just one dance left free, one that you and I might enjoy?’
Despite having spent most of her time on a gilt chair to the side of the ballroom floor, Emmaline knew the ensuing ritual by heart. A young woman must always pretend that her dance card was almost full. No one wanted to dance with someone whom no one else had asked to stand up. It was just a fact.
‘I see I have the dance after this one free, Mr Aubrey, the last one,’ she said in a low voice. ‘No, forgive me,’ she added hastily. ‘No, that was my mistake. As it happens, by chance – by an extraordinary chance – I have the very next dance free,
as
it happens.’ She peered at her card. ‘Yes. Mr Generes was taken home sick, poor fellow.’
‘A two-step, I do declare,’ Aubrey announced as the orchestra played the introduction. ‘I rather enjoy a two-step, truly I do, although considering it takes two people and four legs, surely it should be called a four-step!’ He bowed.
Offering her hand to him in the accepted manner, Emmaline rose and allowed herself to be led out on to the dance floor, where her confidence immediately returned, for if there was one thing of which she was quite, quite sure, it was that she could dance.
As it happened, gentleman that he most certainly appeared to be, her dancing partner guided Emmaline round the floor with dexterity, while she herself demonstrated a lightness of foot which seemed to please him. Certainly he had about him an aura of such gaiety and kindness that when the music stopped, and he bowed and thanked Emmaline, she felt overwhelmed with disappointment.
