Anna Jacobs (10 page)

They parted on a more friendly note.

Afterwards, Johanna, who had been eavesdropping unashamedly in the next room while they spoke privately, insisted on knowing what her cousin had said to Justin that required an apology and nearly choked with laughter when Beatrice confessed. “Well, that’s probably the biggest set-down Serle has ever received in his life,” she said, wiping tears from her eyes. “Calling him a dandy! Justin Serle, of all people! Oh dear, I wish I could tell our friends, but of course that would be unpardonable when he so kindly rescued you. Besides, I have some fondness for him myself.”

“Well, I’ve apologized to him about it,” muttered Beatrice defensively, “so I don’t see what more I can do!”

Johanna, still chuckling, informed her cousin that Serle was a noted Corinthian, a famous sportsman and rider, and in no way a dandy. “A dandy, my dear, is likely to lisp at you, to wave his hands when he speaks and to waft flowery perfume all over you.”

“Oh dear! Why did I not know that?” Serle’s movements were all decisive - though graceful, too, and he had smelled of some crisp cologne, whose scent she found very attractive.

“Why did you think it in the first place?” Johanna could not stop chuckling. She wished she had been there to see Serle’s face.

“Well, he puts other men quite in the shade by the way he dresses. He always looks so - so elegant.”

“That’s because he’s not a dandy! Simply a gentleman of exquisite taste.”

“Oh, dear. Ought I to apologize again. I didn’t do it very well.” Beatrice frowned and added, “But that still doesn’t explain it all. Johanna, why does he behave so languidly? And talk only of frivolous things? It’s as if - as if he didn’t really care about anything.” Yet he was so strong and masculine. He had rescued her, held her in his arms and carried her up to her room. And she was no fragile flower. She remembered the way his chest had moved, as he breathed deeply, labouring under her weight. And - she flushed - he had held her when she was sick and been very gentle with her afterwards. She remembered it all quite clearly now.

“By no means must you apologize again! I told you: it’ll do him good to know how others see him sometimes. I’m very fond of Justin, but he has lived behind a barrier since his brother’s death, concealing his feelings from the world. He does have a serious side to him, you know, but he doesn’t care to broadcast it. He takes a keen interest in improving his estates and in agriculture generally. His tenants and employees are very well looked after, I can assure you.”

“I’m glad of that.”

Johanna saw that Beatrice was still looking thoughtful and suddenly began to wonder about the two of them. It was not like Justin to show that he cared about someone’s opinion and it was not like Bea to worry so much about something so unimportant. She would, she decided, keep an eye on them the next time they met and see how they behaved with each other. Was it possible ... ? No, Serle would surely marry a more dashing lady than quiet Beatrice. But still ...

During the following few days, Johanna couldn’t help noticing that for someone who affected complete indifference to Mr Serle, Bea mentioned his name rather frequently. And for someone who had been so greatly insulted, Justin paid an amazing number of visits to check on Miss Dencey’s recovery and to report to her on Tom’s progress.

Was it really possible, Johanna wondered, that her quiet young cousin was proving attractive to Justin Serle, the man of whom matchmaking mamas had despaired for years? How very amusing it all was! And what a feather in her cap it would be if she could promote a match between Bea and Justin.

Even her fussy mother would approve of that connection.

Chapter 5

The Dowager was upset. “Look at this!” she said, brandishing a piece of paper at Eleanor. “How dare he?”

“What’s wrong, Grandmamma?” Now that Bea was away, Eleanor found herself expected to listen to her grandmother more attentively over their midday meal - which made her realize how skilfully Bea had smoothed things over before and kept the old lady tranquil. She tried to do the same, but had to admit that she was not as good at this as her young aunt was.

“You can never trust a Herforth to do what’s right!” the Dowager said bitterly. “Although he is the heir to Satherby - an honour he does not deserve, I might add - he has written to say he will not be available to visit until later in the year.”

“I didn’t know you were expecting him, Grandmamma.”

“I invited him expressly to come here so that I could make sure he’s up to snuff. But,” awful scorn filled her voice, “he cannot even make the effort.” She scowled down at the letter. “Ignorant clodpate! Placing farming and such menial occupations before the well-being of estates which have belonged to The Family for two centuries and which it is now his bounden duty to preserve and protect.”

Eleanor was surprised at the depth of anger in her grandmother’s voice. “But he cannot just leave his other responsibilities, surely?” she ventured. “And he is going to come here later in the year, so that will be all right.”

“Satherby is by far the most important of his responsibilities. And I had planned to have him here now. He must learn to behave in a way consonant with his new and totally undeserved status in life.” She breathed deeply, crumpled the letter in her hand, then let it drop beside her plate.

Eleanor returned to her breakfast, but when she glanced sideways she was worried at how white and frail her grandmother looked.

Indeed, after this expenditure of nervous energy, the Dowager admitted to her maid that she felt quite washed out, and agreed to rest and recruit her strength for a few days while she decided on what tack to take next with the elusive heir.

Her fretting and fuming at mealtimes would have made Eleanor’s life quite intolerable had that young lady not had several other things to divert her. She had lately found another supplier of romantic novels in the nearby town and had her head stuffed full of the adventures of a series of dashing heroines so reckless they regularly landed themselves in the direst straits just as the dinner bell rang. Then poor Eleanor had to endure an evening’s suspense before she could find out how their problems were resolved.

In addition, there was Snowy. The fluffy white puppy, which Beatrice had given her before she left, needed training and exercising, and that occupied a considerable amount of Eleanor’s time. A dog which was to be allowed inside the Dowager’s residence when he grew older needed impeccable manners and must be perfectly groomed at all times.

Best of all, however, Eleanor had made a new acquaintance, quite unknown to her grandmother, and this added considerable interest to her days.

Only Eleanor’s groom, Anders, was aware of her new friend, and although he objected strongly at first, she managed to persuade him to suspend judgment.

Anders had been her father’s head groom and had brought Eleanor to the Abbey himself after the carriage accident which had killed her parents and younger brother. Her governess, who had broken her ankle a week previous to that, had declined absolutely to subject herself to the jolting of a journey across country, and the rest of the staff, who lived in dire terror of the Dowager’s rare visits, were glad to abnegate responsibility.

Once at Satherby, Anders had been offered the job of becoming Miss Eleanor’s personal groom, for the Dowager, grim-faced in flowing black, did not neglect her duty to look after her favourite son’s faithful servants, however much she might be grieving over his death.

From that day onwards, Anders had supervised Miss Eleanor and her riding with the utmost care and now boasted that she was the best lady rider in the county.

As the sole link with her past, he was the only other person apart from Beatrice who was able to cheer up the solitary child mourning the loss of her parents and brother. He had chosen Miss Eleanor’s horses for her, guided her through the mysteries of learning to jump and accompanied her to her first hunt. He was generally reckoned by the other servants to be willing to kill for her, if necessary.

Left to her own devices and feeling more than usually restless that day, Eleanor went for a walk in the woods, disobeying the Dowager by doing so unescorted by either maid or groom - and disobeying Anders too, for he agreed absolutely with the Dowager on this point.

Eleanor felt she desperately time to herself. It had been a trying week since the letter from Crispin Herforth, with her grandmother’s temper fluctuating between rage and scorn, and Eleanor was finding it hard to remain cheerful.

The puppy strayed from the narrow path to follow a quite irresistible scent and refused to obey a command from his mistress to return to heel. Terrified of losing her pet, she ran after him and caught up just in time to see him disappear down a rabbit hole. Some of the soft earth fell in on him, so although he managed to turn round, he was unable to get out again and cowered in the narrow tunnel, whimpering with fear.

With no thought for her own appearance, Eleanor fell to her knees and at once began trying to dig the puppy out, scolding him all the time in a tender voice.

She didn’t hear anyone approach and started in shock when a twig snapped beside her and a voice asked, “Is something wrong?”

“Oh!” She brushed her hair away from her face with one dirty hand, hoping she’d not deposited any smears of dirt on her cheek. “Oh, you quite startled me, sir!” It didn’t occur to her to be afraid of the stranger, for it wasn’t in her nature to be suspicious of others, and besides, the gentleman had a very warm smile.

“I’m sorry about that.” He knelt beside her. “I thought you must have heard me coming.”

She sat back on her heels and smiled at him. “No. I was too busy trying to help poor Snowy.”

“Yes, so I see. May I assist you?”

He was staring at her in undisguised admiration and she found herself blushing slightly. For a moment everything seemed to happen very slowly and she was conscious only of the stranger, with his blond hair and bright blue eyes smiling down at her. Then Snowy whimpered and she jerked back to the present crisis. “I’m having difficulty digging my dog out, for the earth will keep falling back in again. I’m afraid my poor little darling will be smothered if I’m not careful and I daren’t go for help, because Snowy may bring the earth in on himself with his struggles. Or I may not find him again.”

“Let me see if I can help.”

Obediently she moved aside. The stranger was undoubtedly a gentleman, neatly, though not fashionably dressed, and he didn’t seem to care that he, too, was dirtying his clothes. As he began to dig, she couldn’t resist staying beside him and they worked together to hold back the earth and enlarge the hole.

Once or twice their hands touched and she was surprised at how she reacted, jerking away, almost afraid to touch him. And yet, how capable his hands were! He didn’t seem to mind that he was getting very dirty and she liked that in him. She stole a glance or two sideways as they worked and when she caught him looking at her, for some reason she couldn’t understand she felt herself blushing again, a reaction she had never experienced with any other young gentleman.

With the stranger’s help, the puppy was soon released, but when Snowy tried to walk, he yelped and sat down again, nuzzling a back leg.

“Let me see!” Eleanor’s companion picked up the wriggling little creature and examined it, seeming to know exactly what he was doing. “I don’t believe the leg is broken, but he must have twisted the joint so it’ll be sore for a day or two.”

“Oh, thank you, sir!” Still on her knees, she kissed the puppy’s face, but desisted when its effort to lick her nose in return made it yelp again. “Be still now, Snowy!” she commanded.

The stranger got to his feet, still holding the puppy, and held out his hand to help her up. When she took it, he pulled her to her feet and for a moment they stood close to one another, not speaking, just studying one another quietly. It seemed important not to disturb that silence with conversation, important too that she learn every detail of his appearance.

He was only slightly taller than she was, for the Graceovers were a tall family, even the women, but she decided that in spite of that defect - for all the heroes in her novels were over six foot tall - he was rather handsome. Not as handsome as the Duke of Hanmouth in Cressida’s Revenge, of course, but he was quite the best-looking gentleman she had ever met in real life.

Not that she had met many eligible gentlemen, she thought ruefully, for they lived so quietly at Satherby. She hadn’t even been allowed to become well acquainted with the few she did encounter from time to time at the hunt or at the houses of neighbours. They were, the Dowager invariably said when they called, not of sufficient consequence to be seriously considered as future conjugal partners for a Graceover. So they were not encouraged to call again.

It never seemed to occur to Grandmamma that one might just enjoy their company without wanting to marry them, but it did to Eleanor.

“I don’t think I’ve met you before,” she said now in her forthright way. “Are you new to the district?”

“Yes. I’m visiting some family friends at Treevers Hall. My name’s - er - Lanby - Christopher Lanby.”

She didn’t notice his slight hesitation over the name, but held out her hand with her usual sunny smile, “I’m Eleanor Graceover. I live at Satherby Abbey.”

When he took the hand in his, she couldn’t help realising that he was holding it for a moment or two longer than was necessary, but she didn’t mind that. Unlike Beatrice, she was quite prepared to flirt a little. Her only impediment so far had been the lack of gentlemen upon whom to practice that art.

“Yes, I’ve heard of you,” he said after a minute, his eyes still devouring her. “You’re the Dowager Lady Graceover’s granddaughter, are you not?”

“Yes.” She removed her hand from his and wondered what to do next. Of course, it wasn’t quite the thing to talk to strange gentlemen in the woods, but he had arrived just in the nick of time to save poor little Snowy, and in fact was still carrying the puppy. “Oh, do give Snowy back to me! He’s dirtying your waistcoat.”