The Pretenders (7 page)

Reeve said, “I hope I find you in good health, Aunt Sophia.”

“Hah. You can’t fool me, young man. I could be dead for all you know or care. I haven’t heard a word from you in years.”

The corner of Reeve’s mouth twitched. “I would have heard about your death, Aunt Sophia. There would have been an eclipse of the sun or something equally dramatic to announce the news to the world.”

The old lady laughed heartily. Then, when she had got her breath back, she demanded, “So who is this gel you’ve asked to marry you? Bernard tells me she ain’t got a groat.”

Reeve’s eyes met mine across the room.

“Nary a shilling to my name,” I said cheerfully to the dreadful old woman seated behind the teapot.

Her dark eyes, so disconcertingly like Reeve’s, peered shrewdly into mine. “It’s a love match then?”

It is very seldom that I find myself at a loss for words, but I was at a loss now. Did she know about Bernard’s ultimatum? Should I say anything about Reeve’s debts?

Desperately, I looked across the room for help.

“It is a love match, Aunt.” Reeve said firmly.

Mama put down her cup of tea as if the saucer had suddenly scalded her hand.

Everyone looked at me. I could feel my cheeks grow pink.

Damn Reeve for getting me into this
, I thought.

Then I remembered that I was the one who had insisted that we come to Sussex. I sighed and tried to look sweet, like a maiden in love.

I heard Reeve cough and knew he was covering up a chuckle.

Lady Sophia said to him, “Well, I’m sure that Bernard is hoping that this marriage will put an end to your roguery, but I’ve always had a soft spot for a rascal.” She turned to Lord Bradford. “Unfortunately, you have always been a dead bore, Bernard.”

He looked as if he had heard this castigation a thousand times and had ignored it for a thousand times as well.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, his square face never changing its expression.

Mama gave him a sympathetic look. She had such a soft heart.

Lady Sophia turned back to me and began a relentless interrogation that lasted for the remainder of teatime. The rest of the party sat in wooden silence while they learned that I was twenty-one (“Almost at your last prayers, aren’t you, Missy?”); that I lived in a cottage in the village next to Ambersley; that I played the pianoforte indifferently; that I was a poor needlewoman; that I knew nothing about running a house the size of Ambersley; that, in the eyes of Lady Sophia, I was totally unsuited to be the wife of the Earl of Cambridge.

“Young men,” she said maliciously, “they make their choice of a wife with their eyes and live to rue it.”

Reeve said, “Deb has the best seat on a horse of any girl I’ve ever seen. There aren’t many men I know who can ride as well as she can, as a matter of fact. Who cares if she can’t play the pianoforte? I don’t like the pianoforte. I like to ride.”

Bernard said to me, “Housewifely virtues cannot be ignored, Miss Woodly. As the mistress of an establishment such as Ambersley much will be expected of you.”

Since I would never be the mistress of Ambersley, I was not overly worried about this, but I bowed, smiled, and nodded my agreement, assuring him that I was sure I would be able to learn what I did not already know.

Lady Sophia sniffed loudly, clearly in doubt of my abilities.

Dreadful old woman
, I thought.

Reeve’s eyes caught mine across the room, and he read my thought unerringly. He winked.

A few minutes later the tea party broke up. We would all reassemble again for dinner in a short while, and at that realization I suppressed a groan.

Oh well, Reeve had warned me, I thought, as I followed Mama upstairs to our rooms, where we were supposed to rest until dinner. It was only for a few weeks, after all. I could endure it. I had to.

Unfortunately.

ONCE RULES OF POLITENESS RESTRICTED LADY
Sophia to conversation with the persons who sat on either side of her, dinner was not quite as nerve-shattering as tea had been. Reeve was seated to the right of his aunt, but instead of being the target of her barbs he appeared to be charming the old lady with his most seductive smiles.

I remembered her comment that she liked a rogue. Well, she had certainly found one, I thought sourly.

Mama and I sat on either side of Lord Bradford, I who told us all about the activities he had planned to amuse us during our visit. There would be a dance for the local gentry, some excursions to local sites of interest, and a large summer fair organized by the local villagers. Reeve would probably complain that Lord Bradford’s offerings were a complete bore, but in truth, it sounded to me as if our visit might be rather enjoyable.

We were having dessert when I said to Lord Bradford, “I thought you had two sons, my lord.”

A flicker of uneasiness came across his face, then was quickly gone. “Yes,” he said. “Robert is presently visiting friends in East Anglia, but he will be returning home shortly, Miss Woodly. As you can imagine, he is anxious to meet his cousin’s fiancée.”

I smiled and did not reply.

That flicker of uneasiness was not at all reassuring.

After dinner, the ladies were forced to follow Lady Sophia to the drawing room so the gentlemen could be left to the dissipation of their port. Reeve rolled his eyes at me as I went by, and I had to stifle a giggle.

It would never do for Lady Sophia to hear such an undignified sound coming from the lips of the future Countess of Cambridge.

We took our places in the drawing room. Lady Sophia was once again on the sofa, and the rest of us sat as far away from her as we could politely get.

Then she started on Mama.

“I understand that you were employed by the late Lord Lynly to be governess to his son, Mrs. Woodly,” she said.

Mama went very pale. “That is correct, Lady Sophia,” she said.

“Hmm. You must have been quite young. Odd that such an unprotected young gel would go to work for a widower.”

Her implication was that not only was it odd, it was not respectable.

“There was nothing odd about it, Lady Sophia,” Mama said. ”Lord Lynly needed a governess, and I was qualified and needed a job. His son and I liked each other. Surely there can be nothing odd in that.”

“It’s demned odd that he married you, you can’t deny that,” the old lady said with relish. ”He did it over the objections of his family, too, I hear.”

Mama said with dignity, “I really do not think that my marital affairs are any of your business, Lady Sophia.”

Good for you, Mama
, I thought.

“Since your daughter is marrying my nephew, they certainly are my business,” Lady Sophia returned. She had a silver-tipped cane which she carried and now she tapped it commandingly on the floor. ”For instance, if you are Lynly’s widow, why are you living in a cottage? Why doesn’t your daughter have a dowry? Why are you calling yourself Mrs. Woodly and not Lady Lynly?” Once more the old lady rapped her cane authoritatively. ”I demand to know the answer to these questions, Mrs. Woodly. It is my right as Cambridge’s aunt.”

By now Mama was white as snow, and I was furious. I said, “If you want to know the answer to those questions, you can ask Reeve, Lady Sophia. He knows everything there is to know about us. And if it doesn’t bother him, then it shouldn’t bother you.”

The old lady’s head snapped around. “Hah, do you dare to dictate to me, Missy?”

I said, my voice clear and cold and deadly, “Leave my mother alone.”

Our eyes met, and for a moment something that almost looked like respect flitted across her splendid old face.

She sat back on her sofa. “Very well,” she said, elevating her perfectly carved nose. “I shall ask my nephew.”

There was a moment of tense silence in the room which was mercifully broken by the entrance of the gentlemen. It did not take Lord Bradford long to realize
that something had happened, and he moved quickly to defuse the situation.

“Will you play something for us, Miss Norton?” he said genially. “You delighted me yesterday with those charming songs.”

Mary Ann Norton shot a glance at Harry from under her long, dark lashes. “I should be happy to, Lord Bradford,” she said.

Lord Bradford gave his son a meaningful look, and Harry went obediently to turn Mary Ann’s music for her. The rest of us settled down to listen.

The girl did play charmingly. And sang charmingly, too. She looked charming as well, with her pastel pink dress picking up the pretty pink color in her cheeks. She was followed by Sally, who was dressed in pastel green and also played and sang and looked charming.

I crossed my fingers and prayed that no one would ask me to follow.

“And you, Miss Woodly?” said that miserable crone, Lady Sophia. “Surely you can perform something upon the instrument?”

I stood up and went glumly to the pianoforte. I had taken lessons once a week for several years from one of the matrons in the village, but I had not been an apt pupil. I limped through two Scottish songs that I had once memorized for a recital, and when I resumed my seat no one urged me to continue.

“Dreadful,” I heard Lady Sophia mutter.

“I thought you played very well, Miss Woodly,” Edmund Norton said stoutly.

The boy must be tone-deaf
, I thought, as I smiled and thanked him.

Shortly after that, Lady Sophia yawned and announced that she was fatigued after all her great exertions and would go to bed. With difficulty, we all refrained from cheering.

Once she was gone, the rest of us went out onto the terrace, which opened off the morning room in the back of the house. The turf of the Downs had been displaced here by gardens, which surrounded the terrace. Paths wound through plantings of flowers, which I smelled but saw only dimly in the moonlight.

Reeve and I found ourselves walking with Mama and Lord Bradford.

“I do apologize for Lady Sophia,” Lord Bradford said. ”In retrospect, it was probably not a wise idea to invite her. But I had to have a hostess, and she is your father’s only sister, Reeve. At the time it seemed like a good idea.”

“What a harridan,” I said frankly. ”She began to upset Mama by asking her all sorts of painful and embarrassing questions. I told her to ask you instead, Reeve, so if she pounces on you, you will know why.”

He grunted.

“Has she ever come to Ambersley?” I asked. ”I don’t remember seeing her before.”

“She came to visit a few times while my father was still alive, but she hasn’t been since. I haven’t invited her.”

Well, that wasn’t odd. He never invited anyone to Ambersley.

“Where does she live?” I asked.

“Where do all dreadful old spinsters live? Bath, of course,” Reeve said.

Lord Bradford actually chuckled. “She is not as bad as she seems.”

“Well, she hasn’t been very pleasant so far,” Mama surprised me by saying faintly. Normally she would never criticize someone’s relation to their face.

“I will speak to her, Mrs. Woodly,” Lord Bradford said firmly. “Believe me, she will not bother you again.”

I looked up at the sky, which was filled with stars. “What a beautiful night,” I said. I inhaled deeply and once more caught the salty smell of the ocean. “Do you think that we might ride to the sea tomorrow, Lord Bradford? I have never seen it”

“Haven’t you? Then we must remedy that immediately, Miss Woodly. We will most assuredly go to the sea tomorrow, and take a picnic with us. The rest of the young people will enjoy that as well.”

I was immediately sorry that I had said anything about going to the sea. I should have snagged Reeve for an early-morning ride so I could have my first glimpse of the sea with him and not with a group of strangers.

I smiled, and said, “That will be very nice indeed.”

The first of July dawned clear and bright. Breakfast was laid out in the bow window of a very pretty morning room, and by eleven o’clock the whole house party was on horseback and heading in the direction of the sea. Reeve had brought horses from home for himself and for me, and the Norton children had brought their own horses as well. Lord Bradford supplied the
rest, and I had to admit that the quiet, gentle little mare he gave to Mama was perfect.

Mercifully, Lady Sophia remained at home.

Wakefield Manor was directly north of the small village of Fair Haven on the English Channel and to the west of the village, on the other side of a small bay, was an expanse of beach known as Charles Island. To get to the island it was necessary to cross a causeway made of sand and pebbles and eroded shells, which Reeve told me was covered during storms when the tides became excessively high.

“So Charles Island is only an island part of the time, then,” I said.

“That is right,” he replied.

He and I were leading the house party parade, as Reeve’s horse was one of those who always liked to be in front, and now he looked up into the air at a group of noisy seagulls that were swooping over the shining water to our right, and said, “I used to love to come here when I was a boy. Charles Island was once a great haunt of smugglers, you know, and I used to pretend I was a free trader smuggling all kinds of contraband goods into the country.”

I looked up at the crying gulls as well. They looked so graceful and white against the clear blue sky. “Is there still smuggling going on here, do you think?” I asked curiously.

There was a breeze blowing from the west, where the Isle of Wight was visible, and it ruffled the dark hair on Reeve’s brow. “Oh, I’m sure some brandy still gets floated in on the tide,” he answered. “But free trading is not what it was in the last century.”

There were a number of small boats out on the bay between Charles Island and Fair Haven, and I looked at them speculatively, wondering if any of them might sometimes engage in illegal activities. “Did your cousins pretend to be smugglers with you when you were children?” I asked Reeve curiously.

His voice sounded oddly flat as he answered, “Harry used to, but Sally was too young.”

“What about Robert?’

Reeve gave me a strangely somber look. “Robert and I don’t get on, Deb. The animosity was on his side originally, but to be honest, at this point I think I dislike him fully as much as he dislikes me. I was absolutely delighted when I learned that he was not here at Wake-field when we arrived.”

I said, “Lord Bradford told me that he was visiting friends in East Anglia, but that he would be returning home shortly.”

“He can’t stay away long enough, as far as I’m concerned,” Reeve said.

My horse stepped into a puddle that had been left by the tide, and his hooves made a soft splashing sound as he lifted them free.

“Why doesn’t Robert like you, Reeve?” I asked.

He shrugged. “Who knows? It could be simply that I’m standing in the place in the sun that he thinks should belong to him.”

We reached the end of the causeway, our horses set foot on the island, and I shook off the uncomfortable feeling our discussion of the absent Robert had given me and looked around with delight.

On its north side, where we had come ashore, the island’s causeway connected it to the mainland; on its east side it made up part of a series of small, jagged bays, which indeed must have been hell for the government to patrol for smugglers. On its west side it looked out across a stretch of water to the Isle of Wight. All of these three sides of Charles Island were rimmed by a sandy beach. Behind the beach was a forest of evergreens.

And everywhere one looked the sun glittered down on blue-gray water which smelled like salt.

I gave Reeve a rapturous smile. “This is wonderful.”