Toblethorpe Manor (31 page)

“Miss Stuart is looking after me, Vane. I will ring if I need you,” she told her. She and Rosalind settled down to a comfortable cose over their luncheon. By the time Lucy ran in, a couple of hours later, she felt quite herself again.

“Are you better, mama?” cried Lucy. “I’d have come before but Charles said I would only fuss you and Rosalind would care for you better. You do not mind if I call you Rosalind?” she asked. “We shall soon be sisters, nearly.”

“Not at all,” answered Rosalind smiling. “Since Charles always calls you Lucy, I never think of you as anything else. It will be delightful to have a sister.”

“Will it not? I have always wished for one. Charles says…” She chattered on until Lady Annabel stopped her.

“I cannot think how Charles ever manages to say anything,” she declared. “Hush, child. Miss Stuart will think you a veritable rattlepate.”

“Will you not call me Rosalind, too, ma’am?” asked Rosalind shyly.

“If you wish it, my dear. Now I shall get up and come down to meet the rest of the company. Lucy, ring for Vane, please. I shall see you both in half an hour or so.”

Rosalind found the company dispersed about the house. It had begun to rain heavily and even the most enthusiastic huntsmen had returned. She looked for Richard to tell him of his mother’s recovery, and found him playing billiards with Lord Denham. Well coached by her father and her cousin, she waited in silence until he had finished his shot. He saw her as he straightened up, and the glad welcome in his eyes made her forget her errand for a moment.

“How is Lady Annabel?” asked Lord Denham.

“Oh, she is quite well again. I think she was only tired, Mr. Carstairs, and soon revived. She is coming down shortly.”

“Thank you for looking after her, Miss Stuart,” said Richard warmly. “It was most considerate of you.”

Rosalind blushed and uttered a hasty disclaimer.

“I did not feel Lucy could be relied on to do her duty at that moment,” she added dryly.

“I’m afraid not. You have met my sister?”

“Yes, she came up to Lady Annabel’s room. What a charming child! Charles is lucky indeed to have found such a bride with such a family.”

“I am glad you think so, Miss Stuart.” Richard wondered if he was included in her encomium, but before he could think of a way to find out, Harry came into the room.

“Rosalind!” he exclaimed, “Lucy told me where to find you. I need your help with Sir Roderick. Come, let us find a quiet corner and rehearse.”

“Oh yes, Harry!” she replied gaily. “I learned a few speeches this morning and hoped we might hear each other recite. Miss Patience Allgood seems to spend a great deal of time bewailing her fate.”

“Sir Roderick to the rescue!” cried Harry, and cast a mocking glance at Richard as he ushered her out.

“I do not wish to interfere,” said Lord Denham cautiously, “but I feel it would be a good move on your part to get on first-name terms with Miss Stuart. With that dratted brother of mine running around calling her Rosalind at the top of his voice, the contrast is quite painful.”

“Believe me, I have noticed it,” answered Richard ruefully. “I had not wanted to push matters too fast. After all, she met me for the first time yesterday. Though, indeed, she met Harry only two days ago.”

“It should not be difficult now that Lucy is here. It seems she has already managed it, and if Miss Stuart is to be, more or less, her sister-in-law, then you are nearly Miss Stuart’s brother.”

“Dammit, Tony, I do not wish to be Rosalind’s brother!”

“She may have both of us for brothers if you do not watch out. I’ve never known Harry remain interested in a female when it meant fighting off a rival. It’s always been easy come, easy go with him. It’s my belief he’s been hooked, even if he doesn’t know it yet himself. And since your little puss turned me down, he’s a fair chance at being a marquis one day.”

“Miss Stuart would not fall for a title,” said Richard coldly.

“How can you be sure? And, anyway, there’s no saying she won’t take a liking to him, the ladies often do. There’s no understanding women.”

“That’s what Charles said,” Richard affirmed gloomily, and they went back to their game.

Harry had never had any difficulty in understanding women. The only thing that puzzled him about Rosalind was the reason behind her frivolous behaviour. He was certain that it was not her usual manner and that there was a definite cause. He knew equally well that she found him attractive and amusing, enjoyed his company, and looked no further, and that she was fighting a much stronger attraction toward Richard for which she could not account to herself.

He was far less certain about his own feelings. The pang of jealousy that had shot through him when he saw Richard and Rosalind in perfect accord at the pianoforte had taken him by surprise. Until that moment he had considered her an unusually pleasant companion with whom to while away the hours. Suddenly she had become something less easy to define. For the first time in his life he found himself contemplating matrimony, and he hastily pushed the thought away. Tony was the heir, it was his business to continue the family. Rosalind was a delightful woman, and he firmly intended to spend every possible moment of the next couple of weeks in her company, after which Richard could have her with his blessing.

If she wanted him, which he rather hoped she did not.

Chapter 19

Lady Annabel renewed her acquaintance with Lady Catherine Graham. They had both come out in the same Season, and though they had never been intimate, they had many memories in common. Both had been married and widowed, and while Lady Catherine’s marriage had been childless and far from ideal, their experience was another bond between them. They spent many happy hours reminiscing.

Charles and Lucy joined the hunt regularly and as regularly lost it a few hundred yards after the start. Had they ever noticed where they were going, they would have been able to describe half Leicestershire in detail. When they were not out riding together, they managed to find an amazing number of private nooks and crannies in Lord Denham’s house and gardens. After three days, an envious Richard agreed that they might announce their betrothal, which came as no surprise to anyone. Lord Denham, as always philosophical, produced champagne.

Reflecting on his usual hunting parties, Lord Denham could not approve of the course this one was taking. Only the thought that he was doing it for Richard stopped him saying so at frequent intervals. At all hours of the day and night, he would come across actors loudly declaiming their lines, singly, in pairs or in groups. Half his staff seemed to have been co-opted, either to build a stage at one end of his small ballroom, or to sew elaborate and fanciful costumes. Even those of his guests who were not directly involved in acting were busy designing and painting scenery, collecting props, or coaching.

On the days that the local hunt met, he usually managed to muster four or five gentlemen and two or three ladies, but for this he could not even count on Richard, whose detestation of the thespian world was quite equal to his own.

Richard had considerable difficulty in extricating Rosalind from the constant rehearsals Harry seemed to find necessary. However, she was fundamentally far more interested in music than in amateur theatricals, and she played for him every day. Lady Annabel often joined them, and occasionally Charles and Lucy or one or two of the others would drop in to the Long Gallery and listen for a while. One sunny day when no one else was with them, Richard seized his chance.

Rosalind had just finished playing. She turned to him and said gaily, “It is a beautiful day, Mr. Carstairs. Are you going to ride out today?”

“I should like to do so if you would join me, Miss Stuart. Do you never ride?”

“I was used to,” she replied hesitantly. “I had an accident--Charles may have mentioned it--and since then I find the thought of riding makes me very uncomfortable.”

“When you learned to ride, did your instructor always make you mount again immediately when you fell off?” he teased gently.

“Oh yes. You see, I was unable to do so for some time, and I suppose my aversion became settled.”

“Do you think it too late to try again?” Richard asked. “I should gladly do all in my power to help you. Lucy brought two horses. One is a very quiet mare. You might start with her.”

“It would be very pleasant to ride again,” Rosalind said wistfully. “It is too muddy for walking, and driving is no exercise. You really think I might overcome my fear?”

“You are not lacking in courage, Miss Stuart. Will you not make the attempt?”

“I will,” she answered decisively. “Pray let us go immediately, before I lose my nerve. Oh, I did not bring a habit with me!”

Richard brushed aside this frivolous feminine objection. “I shall take care that no one is around. Can you not wear a walking dress?”

Rosalind admitted that perhaps she could.

“Very well. Come, do not look so agitated. I’ll not force you to mount, you know. I shall meet you at the stables as soon as you can be ready.”

Richard had had just this eventuality in mind when he had suggested that Lucy bring old Whitesocks as well as her hunter. When Rosalind entered the clean-swept cobbled stableyard twenty minutes later, he had had the mare saddled and sent the grooms about their business.

“Come and talk to her,” he called.

She had no fear of petting the horse. In fact, she had frequently driven herself about during the summer with no qualms. It was just the idea of actually sitting in the saddle that she could not face.

Richard would not let her back out easily. “You see how small she is. I bought her for Lucy on her twelfth birthday. She was always the gentlest creature, and she is tethered to the rail. Let me lift you up, and I will hold you.”

“You’ll not let go?”

“Not as long as you need me, I promise. Are you ready?”

He placed her securely in the saddle and stood with his arm around her waist. He could feel her tension. She was trembling slightly and her face was pale. Her eyes were fixed on her hands, which held tight to the pommel. Richard spoke to her soothingly, as he would to a frightened horse. She did not relax, but sat there for a minute, then turned to him.

“I want to get down,” she said very softly, with a catch in her voice.

In an instant she was on the ground again, and, seeing that she could support herself, he reluctantly withdrew his arm.

“Brave girl,” he approved.

“You make me feel like a small child, Mr. Carstairs.” Her face was still pale, but her eyes were dancing and she managed a shaky smile.

“It is the irrational, childish fears which are hardest to overcome,” he pointed out seriously. “One cannot argue against them. Will you try again, a little later?”

“Yes, if you will help me. I could not bring myself to do it alone. With you I feel safe and can almost believe I may ride again.”

“I do not doubt that you will do so. However, now I
should like to take you for a drive, if you will spare me another hour?”

“A reward for being a brave girl? That will be delightful, Mr. Carstairs.” Her teasing smile emboldened him, and he caught her hand.

“Miss Stuart, will you not call me Richard? After all, we are soon to be cousins, are we not?”

“Then I should call you Cousin Richard, and you may call me Cousin Rosalind. A nice distinction between impropriety and informality.”

“You are a shocking tease, Rosalind.” He kissed her hand. “Come, let us have the horses put to, cousin. I believe the only vehicle left to us is a gig, but you will not mind that. Where would you like to go?”

“Should you object to taking me into the village? There are one or two things I must purchase for the play. Miss Patience Allgood is disguised as a maid for the first part, you know, and I am determined to wear the biggest mobcap I can find.”

“You are thoroughly enjoying the theatricals, I think.”

“Oh yes! I have never done such a thing before, and I daresay I never shall again; but I confess I cannot see the harm in it, and it is excessively amusing.”

“I believe you are too sensible to allow your emotions to be affected. Yet do you not think a young girl might become so caught up in her role as to let it overset her common sense?”

Rosalind did not answer immediately. As Richard helped her into the gig, she considered his remarks with mixed feelings. It was a compliment of sorts to describe her as sensible. However, Richard had pronounced it in a tone of hopefulness, rather than certainty. On the whole she was inclined to resent his implied assumption of the right to criticize her behaviour, though his words had been unexceptionable. She was left feeling slightly uneasy and wishing she had not so blithely agreed to an exchange of Christian names.

“I see no harm with adequate chaperonage,” she said shortly.

Richard was far from sure how he had offended, but it was plain that she was displeased. With a sinking heart, he dropped the subject and vowed to keep a tighter rein on his jealousy, which he recognized as being the instigator of his comments.

As they drove out of the yard and down the lane, he exerted himself to please her. He had rarely in his life felt the need of such exertion, being in the habit of disregarding as beneath him the disapproval of the greater part of the world. Despite his lack of practice, he succeeded tolerably well, and by the time they reached the village Rosalind was once more in perfect charity with him and conversing happily.

Richard, while finding himself more and more in love, could not help contrasting the late Miss Fell with the present Rosalind. Miss Fell had had a delightful sense of humour, but her constant awareness of her anomalous situation had suppressed true lightheartedness, whereas Rosalind was free to indulge in it. Miss Fell had been an invalid for almost the entire period of their acquaintance. He had found beauty in her eyes and in her glorious hair, as he still did in Rosalind. Yet what a difference in this blooming creature sitting by him, not a classical beauty, perhaps, but glowing with life and health. And that was the biggest contrast, he thought despondently. Miss Fell had needed him. Rosalind manifestly did not.