The Six Month Marriage (18 page)

Madeline laughed in return, and secured his undying
devotion by calling him an old rogue.

Friendly relations having been established, he regaled
her with tales of his youth, telling her that he had seen the cottages being
built.

‘And how do you feel about them being replaced?’ asked
Madeline, looking round the homely room and wondering whether he could bear to
see it go.

‘Eh, lass, I’ll miss ‘em and no mistake, but it’s better
so. It’s the damp. Plays tricks on old bones.’

During the course of the conversation Madeline realised
not only that the cottages were in need of rebuilding, but something else
besides. She learned that Amelia and Percival’s happy marriage was not a
rarity. Because Old Ned and his wife, though they sparred good-naturedly
throughout Madeline’s entire visit, clearly enjoyed a happy married life as
well. It was perplexing. Either she had by good fortune stumbled across the
only two happily married couples in the country or else her mother’s warnings
had been sadly misplaced. But she was still not sure which it was.

After talking with Old Ned for a while longer, Madeline
took her leave of him and his wife. As she did so she called over her shoulder
mischievously, ‘I’ll just put wood in t’ole!’

Ned creased up in laughter, and his wife chuckled, and
Madeline, feeling pleased to have made them laugh – and relieved that the
strange phrase did indeed mean
close the door
! - went out to her waiting
mare.

All in all, she felt, as she mounted the pretty little
animal, her morning had been well spent. She was looking forward to discussing
the plans again that evening with Philip now that she could visualise the scene
and knew exactly what he meant to do.

But it was not long before her happy spirits evaporated.
She had hardly left the cottages when she glimpsed movement out of the corner
of her eye. She turned her head, but could see nothing. She searched the
surrounding moors with her eyes but could not see any moving thing. Not a fox,
not a hare, not a bird. Nothing. And yet something had caught her eye.

Feeling unsettled she set her mare to a brisk trot and
headed towards the Manor, turning her head to look behind her every few
minutes, but still she could see nothing. But she felt sure she was being
followed.

She quickened her horse’s pace, beginning to feel
anxious. She may not be able to see anything but she was becoming increasingly
aware that, if danger threatened, she was far from help.

For the first time she began to truly regret turning
down Philip’s offer of protection. She had seen it as threatening but she was
coming to realise that other people did not always present a threat. They could
also be a source of happiness and safety. But it was too late to do anything
about it now. She was out on the moors, alone, and could only hope she reached
the Manor before anything untoward happened.

She set her mare to a faster pace still, and glanced
over her shoulder once again. And this time she saw something. A man, far off,
but following her.

She urged her mare onward, hoping that her lead would be
long enough to allow her to reach the Manor. But she was handicapped by the
fact that she was riding side-saddle, whilst her pursuer was riding astride.

The stables now came into view. She rode as fast as she
could, scarcely daring to breathe, then let out a huge sigh of relief as she
clattered into the stable yard. Safe at last!

Dismounting quickly, she all but ran in to the house.

‘Where is the Earl?’ she demanded of Crump, who was at
that moment crossing the hall.

‘He’s in his study, my lady, but . . . ’

Madeline waited no longer, leaving Crump to say, ‘. . .
he has someone with him,’ to empty air.

‘Philip, I have to speak to —’ said Madeline, throwing
open the door to Philip’s study, before belatedly realising that the estate
manager was with him.

‘I can come back later,’ said the manager, looking
uncertainly from the Earl to the Countess and back again.

‘Do that please,’ said Philip, his eyes never once
leaving Madeline. ‘Now then,’ he said, when they were alone, standing up and
coming round the desk to place his hands on his shoulders, ‘tell me, what is
the matter?’

‘There was someone following me,’ said Madeline, in her
fear blurting the words out without preamble. ‘Out on the moor. He has followed
me all the way back to the Manor. I thought I would never escape. I was wrong
to refuse protection, how I wished for it when I found myself alone.’

Philip relaxed at her admission, but then said, ‘Describe
him.’

‘I can’t. He was too far away for me to see him
properly. But a rough man, not a gentleman. He was dressed as a labourer. He
was wearing some kind of breeches and a shirt, but no coat. He must have
something to do with Jack,’ she said.

‘No.’ Philip shook his head.

‘What then?’ Madeline faltered, perplexed by Philip’s
attitude. He did not seem worried, or even surprised.

He sank back on to his desk with a frown. ‘Madeline . .
. ’

‘Yes?’

‘You are not in any danger.’

‘How can you say that? I have been followed across the
moor. How can I not be in danger?’

‘The man you saw . . . His name is Jenkins. He is
someone who . . . works . . . for me from time to time.’

‘He works for you?’ asked Madeline, confused.

‘Yes.’

‘Then why was he following me?’ She suddenly broke off. ‘You’ve
been having me followed,’ she said accusingly.

‘Madeline —’

‘Haven’t you?’ she demanded.

‘You have just admitted that you wished you had someone
with you when you thought you were in danger,’ Philip pointed out.

‘But I wasn’t in any danger. I only thought I was
because you set someone to follow me!’

‘What else was I to do?’ he demanded. ‘There are
dangerous forces at work here, Madeline. You know that. You have seen them for
yourself. Jack is involved in something extremely perilous, and the men who are
pursuing him will stop at nothing. They will use any means in their power to
bring him down, and if they feel it will be to their advantage to harm you then
they will do so. I needed to know you would be safe.’ He took a deep breath and
when he was calmer he continued. ‘Sometimes we do the right things for the
wrong reasons; or the wrong things for the right reasons. Life is not always
simple.’

‘No,’ she said. ‘I am beginning to realise that.’

For although she was angry with Philip for deceiving her
she was also relieved that he had taken her safety seriously. Such confusing
emotions were new to her. In her father’s, and then her uncle’s, care, her
emotions had been simple. She had been afraid of her father and afraid of her
uncle. She had been sorry for her mother. She had wanted to escape. It had all
been clear. But now it was all muddy. She did not want to be lied to and she
did not want people taking her choices away from her. But neither did she want
to be in danger. Philip had ensured her safety, but only by deceiving her. She
did not know whether to feel grateful to him or angry with him, and she was
caught up in a confusing mixture of both emotions.

‘You have led a protected life so far,’ he said gently. ‘I
know it was unhappy and frightening, but at least it was not confusing. Now
that you are free you are learning that life outside a prison is perplexing,
are you not?’

She nodded. ‘Yes, I am.’

‘In time you will grow used to such conflicts. They
arise all the time in ordinary life. As soon as two or more people are together
there is inevitably conflict, even if they like and respect each other. In
order to resolve those conflicts there needs to be good will on both sides, and
a willingness to give and take. But I think in this case I took too much. I was
afraid for you and so I took your choices away from you.’

‘But you protected me,’ she said.

‘Yes I did. Can you forgive me?’ he asked.

She turned it over in her mind and found that she could.

‘I can this time,’ she said. ‘But what about next time?’

‘Next time we will be able to trust each other a little
more and talk about our ideas more, and we will not stop until we are both
happy with the conclusion.’

‘Is that really possible?’ she asked.

He laughed, and the tension broke.

‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘But we can try.’

There was something so warm and happy about him that she
felt herself begin to melt. The walls she had built around herself were
disintegrating and for a moment she forgot that their marriage was not real.
Only to be reminded of it a minute later when he said, ‘You are very precious
to me, Madeline.’

Very precious to me
. Yes,
indeed. She was very precious to him. She was the key which would unlock his
fortune.

She felt deflated, although she had no reason to be. She
had known the limits of the marriage from the start. She ought to be happy.

The sound of the gong came from the hall, rescuing her
from her conflicting emotions. She excused herself, glad to have the
opportunity to escape, and went upstairs, where she dressed for dinner.

When she joined Philip in the dining-room as dinner was
served, she steered the conversation away from personal matters and asked
Philip about his trip to
London
to see Callaghan.

‘Have you learnt any more about Jack from Callaghan?’
she asked Madeline.

‘Unfortunately not.’ Philip took a drink of wine and put
down his glass. ‘Callaghan is giving nothing away. All I learnt was that he was
pleased to get the message and even more pleased to get Peters. Other than
that, he told me nothing. All he did was to give me his itinerary for the rest
of the year. That way, if I need to contact him again, I will know where to
find him.’

Madeline nodded.

Philip took a mouthful of beef and then said, ‘You went
to see the cottages, I hear?’

‘Yes. It was when I was on my way back that I spotted
Jenkins. It was he who told you I’d visited them, I suppose?’

‘Actually, it wasn’t. I’ve been talking to Old Ned.’

‘You went up to the cottages as well today?’

‘Yes. I wanted to inspect them with a view to my plans
for their replacement. I went up after leaving you.’ He cast her a humorous
look. ‘You’ve made quite a hit with Old Ned.’

Madeline smiled affectionately as she remembered the old
rogue with a twinkle in his eye.

‘You like him?’ asked Philip curiously.

‘Yes,’ laughed Madeline. ‘He’s quite a character.’

‘He is,’ said Philip with a smile.

Madeline rose, and he stood up as she withdrew. The meal
was over and she was following custom by leaving him to his port.

As she left the room, she almost fell over one of the
footmen, who was on his knees outside the door. Now what on earth was he doing
there?

‘Beg pardon, my lady,’ said the footman, scrambling to
his feet.

‘That’s all right —?’

‘Danson, my lady,’ he said.

‘That’s all right, Danson.’ She frowned slightly, as she
wondered where she had heard the name before. Of course. Danson was the footman
who had been paying Jenny too much attention. Still he seemed polite enough
now. And yet . . . and yet there was something about him she did not like.

For one disturbing moment the thought passed through her
mind that he had been looking through the keyhole. A moment later she dismissed
the idea, as she saw that he was clutching a button in his hand, and a glance
at his coat showed her that one of his buttons was indeed missing from the
front of it.

She smiled at herself. What a nonsensical thought! She
must not start imagining that everyone was watching her. The poor man had
simply lost his button, and bent down to reclaim it!

Besides, Jenny had not spoken of any further trouble
with Danson, and it was probably as the maid had said; Danson was bored in the
country, and had asked Jenny too many questions because he needed to find what
interest he could in the lives of his fellow servants, and perhaps in the lives
of his master and mistress.

Making her way to the drawing-room, Madeline put the
trivial incident out of her mind.

Philip,
left alone, was thinking of Old Ned. The old man had been a part of the estate
for as long as he could remember, and Philip had had many marks of kindness
from him. He liked the old man. But Letitia did not feel the same. She had seen
the old man once, before he had been bedridden, and had berated Philip for
stopping to talk to him, saying, "That man’s nothing but a dirty,
disgraceful churl." Whereas Madeline had seen Ned’s lively character and
his sense of fun.

Philip was uncomfortably aware that he kept comparing Madeline
to Letitia. And he was even more aware that he found Letitia wanting. He had
been happy enough to think of her as his future countess a few weeks ago.