Melinda Hammond (6 page)

 'I have been in the habit of visiting Cook since I was a schoolboy,' he said. 'I hope you do not object, but having told the servants I would be at Highclough for a few days, they are most of them having a holiday, so the main rooms of the house are going to be very cold and inhospitable.'

 'Not to mention incurring Mrs Hartley's wrath for muddying her carpets,' murmured Verity.

 'Well naturally, I am in constant dread of upsetting my servants.'

 She laughed at that, and shook her head at him.

 They were soon supplied with coffee and cake, and Verity watched and listened in some amusement as Cook continued to treat Mr Bannerman as if he was still a schoolboy. That gentleman was very much at his ease, and when at last he suggested it was time they made their way back to Highclough, Miss Shore found herself reluctant to leave.

 'How pleasant that was,' she remarked when Mr Bannerman had thrown her up into the saddle. 'Dare I tell Cousin Margaret that I have been sitting in a gentleman's kitchen, talking to his cook?'

 Mr Bannerman brought his horse alongside her. 'Perhaps not. I fear it would seriously damage her good opinion of me.'

 'Hah, I don't think you care a jot for her opinion, or anyone's.'

 'Now there, Miss Shore, you are wrong.' The hard eyes held hers for a moment. 'Shall we go?'

Chapter Five

 As November drew to a close Mr Bannerman's visits became more infrequent and Verity found herself looking forward to the three mile drive to the church in Derringden each Sunday, just to see fresh faces. Since Newlands was in the next parish, she knew Rafe Bannerman would not be in attendance, but Mrs Worsthorne was able to introduce her to several local families. Highclough had no near neighbours and those acquaintances they did see at church were eager to explain how difficult it was to visit Highclough in the wintertime.

 'I can see that one might feel isolated here in winter.' Verity remarked to Mrs Worsthorne one evening. They were sitting in the drawing room after dinner, and the wind could be heard howling around the house. She was surprised to observe her companion looking uncomfortable.

 'It is something that has occurred to me. It has never worried
me
, of course, because I grew up here, and have never craved society. However, you might wish to consider hiring a companion.'

 'A comp – but why, when I have Luke and yourself here? Please don't think that I was complaining of being lonely.'

 'No, my love, but you see, when you reach one-and-twenty the property will be handed over to you, and Luke will be moving Sowerby. Naturally I will be going with him, so you see it might be wise to start thinking of your situation.'

 'Mama, might I suggest that you are being a trifle premature?' said Luke, entering the room at that moment.

 'No, I think not. After all, it is nearly Christmas, and May is not so far off.'

 'No, but Cousin Verity may not wish for a companion. At least, not a female companion: she may prefer a husband.'

 Verity laughed.

 'That is hardly likely to happen in the next few months.'

 Luke sat down beside her and fixed his blue eyes on her face. 'You think not?'

 He spoke softly, but something in his tone caught Verity's attention. She sat very still, aware that her heart was thudding uncomfortably hard. She swallowed.

 'I am certain of it,' she said lightly, meeting his gaze steadily.

 Luke's mouth curled into a rueful smile and he gave the faintest of shrugs.

 'Well, who knows? I think we need not worry about that just yet.'

* * * *

 The exchange nagged at Verity and she wondered if she had perhaps given Luke cause to think she would welcome a proposal from him. She hoped not, but now the idea had arisen she considered it. She was an heiress, and as such, an independent woman, but she admitted to herself that the thought of living alone at Highclough was a daunting one. However, the thought of marrying without love was even more frightening, and although she liked her cousin, she knew she did not love him, at least not yet. Verity's experience of the tender passion was limited to the romances she had read and those couples she knew: Her previous employer, Sir Toby Hucklow and his lady were not a shining example of the condition: Lady Hucklow was a cold woman, living for her society parties and her children, while Sir Toby took his pleasures in London and, as she had experienced for herself, with his staff. Verity's own parents had been very much in love, and although theirs had been an impoverished match, she remembered their affection for one another, an affection so strong that at times she felt it had even excluded her. She knew that if she was to marry, nothing less than that same overwhelming passion would suffice. This was a lowering thought, for even in the heart of a large town the possibility of meeting a gentleman like her father was remote: here on the wild moors of Yorkshire it was too unlikely to be considered.

* * * *

 A few days later an invitation was received that gave her thoughts another turn. Mrs Worsthorne came bustling into the morning room clutching a letter and an elegantly engraved card, which she waved at Verity.

 'My love, only think! We have been invited to Newlands for the New Year Ball.'

 'Newlands – Mr Bannerman's house?' Verity felt a ripple of annoyance. 'Why should he write to us, why could he not come in person? He has not been near us this past se'ennight.'

 'Now my love you know he has his own affairs to attend to, and the days are so short now there is scarce daylight enough to ride here. But that is by the bye. He has written me a very good letter, apologising for his absence and enclosing the invitation, which is for all three of us. And he invites us all to stay overnight. Is that not kind of him? The ball has become something of an annual event in the area. Mr Bannerman's sister, Lady Winter, comes to act as his hostess. Sadly in recent years Sir Ambrose was too ill to attend, and last year we had only just buried my poor uncle, so of course we did not go, but this year I see no difficulty. It is after all more than a year since we went into mourning, and it will be a private party. Oh you will adore Newlands, my love. Such a fine house, so elegantly furnished and with every comfort!'

 'Including a good kitchen.' Verity murmured.

 'What was that, love? Oh yes I am sure the servants' rooms are in good order but they are well out of the way of the ball-room, never fear.'

 While Mrs Worsthorne eulogised, Verity fought to suppress the memory of her ride to Newlands, and the easy camaraderie she had shared with its owner. She had barely spoken to him since, proving that such a moment meant less than nothing to the gentleman. She tried to smile, and gave Mrs Worsthorne to understand that she was perfectly ready to visit Newlands.

* * * *

 This highlight in their social calendar gave the ladies another problem, and one that could only be resolved by a visit to Halifax to buy new gowns. For Verity, this raised the vexing question of finance. She said nothing to Mrs Worsthorne, but a few days later, learning that Mr Bannerman had arrived and was working in the estate office, she decided to approach him. She knocked quietly and entered the room to find that gentleman engaged in lighting the fire. She watched silently as he carefully placed more wood on the little flame, encouraging it to grow into a crackling blaze. Satisfied, he rose, dusting his hands together.

 'Oh well done, sir. What a resourceful gentleman you are.'

 He swung round, a smile softening his rather severe features.

 'I should have sent word. Ditton always makes sure a fire is kindled in here if he knows I am coming over. But no matter. It will soon warm up now. Did you wish to see me?'

 'Yes sir. I – um – I am not sure – it is rather a delicate matter.'

 'Will you not sit down, or would you prefer to go to the morning room, where it will doubtless be warmer?'

 'No, no – there is less chance of being interrupted here, I think.'

 'Ah,' he said, looking down at her. 'Well?'

 'You will remember, sir that I came here with – very little money.'

 'None, if my memory serves me correctly.'

 She flushed.

 'So far my needs here have been minimal, but – your ball, sir, has put me in an awkward situation.' She glanced up to find him regarding her with some amusement. Verity raised her chin.

 'I have nothing to wear.'

 'Indeed? My sister is forever saying the very same, yet when she comes to stay there are boxes and trunks enough to fill the house.'

 Verity's eyes flashed indignantly.

 'You brought me here, sir and you know that I have come with but two small bags!'

 'Why must women always be wanting a new gown? Let me reassure you, ma'am: I shall not be buying a new coat for the occasion.'

 She glared at him. He was teasing her, and it did nothing to improve her temper.

 'As the granddaughter of Ambrose Shore, you would not wish me to disgrace him and the few gowns I own are none of them suitable for an assembly such as you have planned. As executor of his will, I was hoping it was in your power to release some funds for me.' Two spots of colour flushed her cheeks as she glared at Rafe Bannerman, daring him to make one more jest, for then she would leave the room and tell Mrs Worsthorne that she would not go to the ball! The gentleman met her look, and after a moment he laughed.

 'Very well, I will tease you no more or you will lose your temper and rip up at me. Where will you go for your gown?'

 She felt her anger subsiding.

 'Margaret – Mrs Worsthorne tells me there is a first-rate modiste in Halifax.'

 He took out a card and scribbled a hasty note upon the back.

 'Very well, tell her to send the reckoning to me.'

 She took the card.

 'Thank you. You will make sure you are reimbursed out of the estate?'

 'Of course.'

 'And you have not forgotten that I owe you for the expenses incurred on the journey here, the charges for the inn at Matlock? That too must be paid for.'

 'Oh be damned to that! Do you think I cannot afford to pay for one night's lodging?'

 'I am sure you can very well afford it, but it is not right that you should.' He growled something incomprehensible and, having won her point, Verity's own demons prompted her to add: 'A new gown
is
an extravagance, sir, I know, but I thought to put it to good use.'

 'Oh?'

 'It occurs to me that in the new year I might attend the assemblies in Halifax, or even Leeds. To find a husband, you see.'

 'I'll be damned if you will!'

 She continued as if he had not spoken.

 'Mrs Worsthorne is quite excited at the idea.'

 'You will hardly travel to Halifax alone.'

 'No, no, I am sure Luke will escort us.'

 'And I'm sure he will not!'

 'Well, if that is so, one of the servants shall ride with us.'

 'Tell me, Miss Shore, why this sudden desire to enter society?'

 'Surely you know, sir, that every young woman enjoys dancing! Besides, I have a fancy to marry.'

He frowned at her.

 'By the terms of your grandfather's will you cannot do so without the consent of the executors.'

 'But that is only until I am one-and-twenty.' She observed with satisfaction that he was glaring at her, his jaw clenched.

 'Of course,' she continued, 'once is it known I am an heiress, I have no doubt it will be very easy to find a husband.'

 'Finding a suitable one might be more difficult.'

 'Oh, but suitable sounds so
dull
.'

 He strode across the room and gripped her by the shoulders, glowering down at her.

 'Miss Shore, if I were not an executor of that damned will –'

 Her eyes widened innocently. 'Well, what would you do?'

 She waited expectantly.

 'I would wash my hands of you, you burdensome wench! But since that is not so, let it be understood that while I am your trustee there will be no assemblies, and no talk of finding a husband.'

 He let her go.

 'But there might well be a suitable gentleman at your own ball.'

 'Then it will be my delight to tell him you are
not
a suitable bride!'

 She gave him an innocent look. 'Oh, why not?'

 He towered over her. 'Miss Shore,' he ground out, ' if you value your skin you will leave this room. Now.' With a gurgle of laughter bubbling on her lips she tripped to the door, only to be stopped when he called her name again. 'Here.' He handed her a bundle of notes. 'You will no doubt be wanting gloves and stockings and a dozen other nonsensical female necessities as well as your gown.' She counted the notes.

 'B-but there is a hundred pounds here!'

 'Aye, so you had best make sure you can account for every penny.'

 'Oh, I will!' Upon impulse she placed her hand on his shoulder and stretched up to kiss his cheek. 'Thank you, my kind and generous trustee!'

 'Baggage!' he threw after her, as she left the room.

* * * *

 Verity was still chuckling as she closed the office door behind her. Her smile grew as she saw Luke standing by the back stairs.

 'Cousin – I heard raised voices, have you been arguing with Rafe?'

 'Why yes.' An irrepressible dimple appeared. 'We cannot meet without doing so.'

 Luke frowned.

 'You shouldn't cross him, Verity.'

 'But I cannot help it when he is so unreasonable.'

 'Unreasonable? Why, what have you said to upset him?'

 'Nothing much, merely that I have decided to look about me for a husband!' With a bland smile, she slipped passed him and made her way to her room, still laughing.

 Chapter Six

 With the weather worsening, Mrs Worsthorne advised that they should lose no time in making their trip to Halifax. Mr Bannerman had returned to Newlands with no plans for visiting Highclough again before the New Year. Miss Shore wrote to him, suggesting that on her visit to Halifax she should contact Mr Reedley, the family lawyer and joint executor of Sir Ambrose Shore's will. She received a curt note by return, advising that she should do as she thought fit.