Echoes of a Promise (2 page)

‘By Jove, you’re right again!’ It was a male voice. ‘Someone here clearly doesn’t know the difference between an
anthurium andraeanum
from Columbia and
anthurium scherzerianum
from Costa Rica!’

Victoria moved closer to see who was speaking. He was of medium height, a plump, well-dressed young man with large ears, a fleshy nose and a terrifyingly wide mouth. But Emily was smiling up at him while
his pale-blue eyes gazed down into hers. Neither seemed to be aware of Victoria’s presence until she was almost beside them.

‘Oh, Vicky! I’m so glad you’re here.’ Emily’s face was pink with pleasure. ‘Do let me present Mr Clifford. Mr Clifford, this is my sister, Victoria.’

The young man swept off his hat, bowed and took her hand. ‘Delighted Miss Shelford, absolutely delighted.’ His full-lipped mouth widened further. ‘Your sister’s ability to identify exotic blooms is quite remarkable. Yes, Miss Shelford, quite remarkable.’

‘Oh, but it’s certainly not equal to your own, Mr Clifford,’ Emily said sweetly. ‘I’ve only learned the names of these specimens from the illustrations in my grandfather’s folios, and I know nothing about the way you say you develop your hybrids from the
miltonia
phalaenopsis
.’ She turned to Victoria. ‘That orchid grows in the jungles of Brazil and I’ve painted copies of it, but Mr Clifford actually
grows
it. He collects all kinds of plants and bulbs from around the world for his own greenhouse. We’ve been having a most fascinating conversation.’

Emily’s sudden outburst of confidence stunned Victoria. ‘Most interesting, Mr Clifford,’ she murmured, then cleared her throat politely. ‘Emmie, I’m truly sorry to interrupt, but I think Mama will be looking for us soon.’

Emily smiled into the young man’s decidedly unhandsome face and held out her hand to him. ‘I’m so sorry, but it seems that I must leave now. Do please call on us tomorrow morning so you can meet Mama, and then I’ll be able to show you all the botanical folios in our library.’

‘Nothing would give me greater pleasure, Miss Emily. Absolutely nothing.’

When Lady Mary was informed that Emily had invited a gentleman named Martin Clifford to lunch next day, she instantly asked Mrs Royston, to have enquiries made into his background. Constance
Royston was an expert in this subtle art, and the report on Martin Clifford that came back couldn’t have been better: old family, large estate, likely to inherit a title from an ageing uncle. And the gentleman had not yet reached the age of thirty. Lady Mary rubbed her palms together. Clever, clever little Emily!

When the gentleman himself called at the house next morning, Emily introduced him to both her parents, as well as to Caroline and Hedley who’d been summoned by Victoria. They’d lost their money again at the races and were in need of some cheerful company to lift their spirits.

After Mr Clifford had spent thirty minutes chatting sociably in the drawing room with the other members of her family, Emily got to her feet. ‘Please excuse me, but I’ve promised to show Grandfather’s botanical folios to Mr Clifford this morning. All twenty-two of them.’ Emily’s cheeks were rosy pink, and there was a new tone in her voice that took them all by surprise. ‘Would anyone else care to join us in the conservatory?’

The family rose
en masse
and sat listening to Mr Clifford enthuse over each page he turned. ‘Remarkable collection. Quite remarkable, Mr Shelford. I am torn with envy.’

As time slipped by, Victoria saw Lady Mary’s eyes flicking frequently to her watch; Mr Clifford had viewed no more than a quarter of the collection by the time the butler came to the door to announce lunch.

‘Ah!’ Their guest let out a sigh of resignation. ‘I must apologize for having taken up the whole morning with my own enjoyment.’ His huge mouth widened further into a smile. ‘Lady Mary, may I plead for an invitation to return when I’m next in London? I dearly wish to continue my journey through these magnificent folios.’

‘Of course, Mr Clifford. Please do call again. Any time at all.’

Victoria and Caroline shared a knowing smile. They sniffed romance in the air.

During luncheon their guest entertained the family with tales about his travels to collect rare specimens for the hothouses at Cloudhill, his estate in Somerset.

‘I do hope that you will all be able to visit Cloudhill sometime in the near future and see for yourselves the collection of
ephyphites
growing in my greenhouse. I promise that you won’t find a better display anywhere this side of the equator.’

There were nods and smiles from all at the table, and Mr Shelford exchanged a quick congratulatory glance with his wife.

‘Thank you, Mr Clifford, we would be delighted,’ he said, and a mutually convenient date for a visit next month was immediately arranged.

Mr Clifford raised his brows apologetically at Emily. ‘It’s unfortunate, but by then I’m afraid that the
vanda coerulea
will have finished blooming. I’m so disappointed that you will miss it because it’s been quite spectacular this year.’

‘Oh!’ There was genuine disappointment in Emily’s tone as she explained to the family that this rare orchid from the Himalayas was a most unusual shade of blue.

‘However I did take a photograph of the blossoms at the peak of their flowering a few weeks ago,’ he hurried to say, ‘and I had it faithfully tinted by a gentleman who excels at that craft.’ Mr Clifford looked towards Lady Mary. ‘Ma’am, do I have your permission to send this photograph to Miss Emily?’

‘Oh, yes, of course, Mr Clifford. How very kind of you.’

‘What a charming young gentleman,’ Lady Mary sighed to her husband later as they saw Martin Clifford drive off in a hansom cab. ‘Such charm and poise. Such refined manners!’ She carefully refrained from commenting on his decidedly unattractive looks.

Her husband nodded. ‘He’s going to make Emily an offer, you know.’

Lady Mary clicked her tongue. ‘Yes, but Victoria should be married before her younger sister walks down the aisle. I can’t understand what is keeping Howard Royston on the plantation all this time. Poor Victoria. Even his mother says she doesn’t know why he won’t leave Barbados.’

Lady Mary was correct to speculate that when the photograph of the blue orchids reached Emily three days later, there would be an accompanying message.

Naturally, Emily replied to it promptly and that encouraged a flurry of letters back and forth between Somerset and London, until the day came for the family to set out for their visit to Cloudhill.

Martin Clifford had posted a lookout on the roof of his rambling
red-brick
house, much of which had been built in the days of Good Queen Bess. He waited by one of the tall, mullioned windows overlooking the gardens, impatiently winding and unwinding a curtain cord around his fingers, until he heard the sounds of an old hunting horn float down from the roof. It was the signal that two carriages had been sighted entering the gates.

He could barely contain his excitement as he hurried to the steps to greet the Shelford family’s arrival, flanked by a line of smiling servants.

‘Welcome to Cloudhill one and all.’ He helped the ladies alight. ‘Please come in, come in. I trust you had a comfortable journey? You are not exhausted? Refreshments are waiting in the drawing room, and then perhaps you’d like to be shown to your rooms to bathe and rest before dinner?’

As the party walked into the house, Lady Mary looked around approvingly at the paintings and tapestries hanging on the oak-panelled walls, the vast Aubusson carpets, the cabinets filled with fine porcelain pieces and an impressive array of heavy silver on display. It was also pleasing to note that there appeared to be no dust about, and that the woodwork gleamed. It was clear to her that Cloudhill was a well-run, dust-free house, with the added grace of scented flowers throughout.

‘I’m coming to like Mr Clifford more and more,’ Lady Mary said drily to her husband as they walked upstairs to rest before dinner. ‘And becoming mistress of this great house is going to be quite a feather in our little Emily’s cap. Oh! Won’t that wretched Lady Marchant be apoplectic with envy when she hears the news!’

‘Well, m’dear, first let’s wait for the gentleman to make an offer for our daughter’s hand.’

His wife gave him a smug smile. ‘Twenty-four hours, my dear George. Mark my words: that young man will be coming to you within twenty-four hours.’

The sun was slowly sinking and Victoria was putting the final touches to her hair when there was a tap on the door connecting her room with Emily’s.

‘Vicky, please throw a shawl around your shoulders and come downstairs with me quickly.’ Emily was almost dancing with excitement. ‘Mr Clifford is down there and he’s sending signals for me to come downstairs to see the greenhouse straight away – and – oh, Vicky, it’s still daylight and everything will be perfectly proper if you’re there with us!’

She went to the window and drew aside the curtain to reveal their host standing in the garden below. They waved to each other and Victoria waved too, then snatched her shawl and ran softly down the stairs behind her sister.

Mr Clifford, smiling broadly, offered an arm to each and hurried them across the parterre, then down a flight of stone steps to a long path leading through a shrubbery. Beyond this loomed a structure that appeared to be a slightly smaller version of the Crystal Palace. Inside, and lit by strategic lamps hanging throughout, was a vast, exotic world of colours and leafy shapes that made Victoria catch her breath.

Emily appeared to be transported as she looked around her; Mr Clifford’s gaze didn’t leave her face. Victoria sensed the delicacy of the situation and deliberately hung back while Martin and Emily wandered
off along paths leading to further extravagant displays.

‘Oh, Mr Clifford! This is – this is – so much more than I ever imagined,’ she heard Emily say, and when next she caught sight of the pair fifteen minutes later, they were beside a waterlily pond. Mr Clifford was down on one knee and Emily’s hand was in his.

Victoria smiled to herself and hung back even further. But fifteen minutes later she did catch a glimpse of them walking arm in arm somewhere between the rows of
ixora coccinea
and
justicia brandegeana
and witnessed Emily lift her face invitingly towards Mr Clifford’s. He lowered his head and touched his lips to hers in a soft kiss. And then another. Emily’s arms slipped up around his neck.

Victoria’s eyes widened. This was
Emily
? It was difficult to reconcile the image of her shy little sister with the eager young woman here in this greenhouse

Victoria blew a long, silent breath and stayed rooted to the spot while the couple moved on with Mr Clifford’s arm now around her sister’s waist.

More time passed and darkness began to fall.
Hurry up, Emily
! Victoria needed to stand under a lamp to see the hands of her watch. It was imperative for them all to be back in the house before their mother became aware of any absence.

When her patience could be stretched no longer, she went searching for the pair and found them beside the displays of
maranta leuconeura
, wrapped closely in each other’s arms and clearly far away in a world of their own.

Victoria felt her cheeks heating and quickly walked to the door, wondering how to bring the pair back to earth. In desperation, she pulled a wooden stake from a garden bed and hit it loudly several times against the metal door frame.

Emily and Mr Clifford came hurrying through the potted vegetation, both looking somewhat flushed and dishevelled, and beaming with a new-found joy. ‘Thank you, Vicky.’ Emily seemed to have little air left
in her lungs. ‘I’d quite lost track of the time. Everything in here has been so
diverting
.’

No one in the house seemed to have noticed their absence and, after an excellent dinner – during which Lady Mary announced that she had never seen finer silver on any table in England – Martin drew Mr Shelford into his study and asked for Emily’s hand in marriage.

With that formality quickly concluded, Martin asked her to walk out to the terrace with him, where he opened a velvet box and revealed a charmingly old-fashioned ring with a cluster of diamonds and sapphires. She caught her breath, and held out her hand. ‘Oh, how lovely!’

‘My darling wife-to-be,’ he said, slipping it on her third finger, ‘this was my mother’s and, on the night she passed away, she told me that it was to be yours, Emily. Of course, she didn’t know your name or who you might be, but she told me that wearing this ring had brought her great joy and happiness, and if you were the woman who had won my heart, she wanted you to wear it and know that this ring came with her blessings.’

‘How lovely. Thank you, Martin, thank you – and with all my heart, I promise to make you happy.’ She kissed him warmly. ‘Now let’s go back to the others and arrange a date for the wedding.’

Martin Clifford was no sportsman. Horses and guns held no interest for him and his stables housed only several pairs of carriage animals.

‘What the devil are we going to do with ourselves all week at Cloudhill?’ Caroline moaned. ‘Go for walks and play billiards?’

Hedley rolled his eyes. ‘We’re both going to die of boredom.’

They soon discovered that it was a mistake to underestimate Martin Clifford. On the day he’d first met Caroline and Hedley Ingram, he’d made an assessment of their characters that further acquaintance had merely confirmed. He didn’t approve of their irresponsible way of life, but, as they were part of his beloved Emily’s family, he’d see to it that
they’d not find Cloudhill’s hospitality wanting.

Lady Mary was late coming down for breakfast the next morning, but she arrived in time to hear Martin announce that he was arranging a ball at the end of the week to celebrate the engagement, and that neighbours had already sent over a couple of their best hunters for Caroline and Hedley to use during their stay.

‘Yes, there’s some good riding hereabouts, and my friends intend to invite you to take part in a point-to-point they’ve organized for Wednesday.’

‘Oh, I say, Martin, that’s absolutely splendid!’ Hedley beamed and Caroline clapped her hands.

‘And if you’d care to try some shooting, I’ll have Walker, my steward, show you the guns that my late father used. I’ve never found any pleasure in it, but Walker knows all the best locations for wildfowl at this time of the year.’ He stopped abruptly and turned to Victoria. ‘Oh, forgive me, my dear sister-to-be, but should I have asked my friends to bring a horse for you also?’

She shook her head. ‘Thank you, but I don’t ride. I enjoy walking … and playing tennis. I noticed a net down there on the lower terrace.’

‘Yes, indeed! Don’t play myself, but I’ve arranged for a few young neighbours to come for a game tomorrow. And, by the way, we’ve all been invited to lunch at Longleat House on Thursday. I’m afraid that the marquis and most of the family are away at the moment, but Lord Bevill, the eldest son, is eager to become acquainted with you and your family, Lady Mary.’

She clattered her tea cup onto its saucer; excitement rendered her temporarily speechless. The Shelfords had been invited to dine with aristocracy! That was going to provide a superb barb for her to throw at Millicent Marchant and her wretched daughter when next they met.

‘Please don’t concern yourself about the distance to Longleat, ma’am. It rarely takes me more than an hour to drive there, and we’ll be back well before dark.’

There seemed to be nothing that the master of Cloudhill was unable or unwilling to provide to ensure that the Shelford family enjoyed their time in Somerset. The kitchen staff provided a variety of splendid dishes each day, and neighbours were invited to dine some evenings. These meals were usually followed by dancing and cards, or games of charades and songs sung around the piano, which they discovered that Mr Clifford played quite well.

‘Emmie, darling,’ Victoria said as their carriage pulled away from Cloudhill at the end of the week, ‘your Martin Clifford is the most thoughtful and tender-hearted gentleman I’ve ever encountered. You’re the luckiest girl in the world to be marrying him.’

‘Yes, I know I am. And I’ll pray hard that some day you’ll find a husband just like him.’

Victoria smiled to herself and turned to look out the window. She doubted that there could ever be another gentleman quite like Martin Clifford. He was unique.

A week later, Lady Mary – wearing an elegant new green velvet hat from Paris – drove triumphantly around Hyde Park in her open landau with Mrs Royston at her side. The engagement of Miss Emily Shelford and Mr Martin Clifford had been announced in
The Times
that morning, and Lady Mary could barely contain her elation when a steady stream of acquaintances approached the carriage to offer congratulations.

‘Constance, my dear, do tell me if you catch sight of that wretched Lady Marchant and her giraffe, Eloise, here this afternoon. I want to snub the old witch for having called our sweet little Emily
simple minded!
Hah! Emily has caught herself a future viscount. I did tell you, didn’t I, that dear Martin is a great nephew of Lord Fortescue, and his heir? I’d like to see Lady Marchant snare such a fortune for
her
daughter!’

Mrs Royston smiled. She’d already heard the whole story several times, and she was still amazed at how quickly a romance had
developed between the unlikely pair.

‘I decided that if we set the wedding a month after Emily’s birthday, it will give me time to have her gown made in Paris, and—’ Lady Mary suddenly wrapped her fingers around her companion’s wrist. ‘Ah! Look, Constance, here come Lady Marchant and Eloise. I must make sure that neither of them miss my snub. I do hope people are watching.’

They were indeed, and Lady Mary slanted a look of glee towards Mrs Royston as Lady Marchant and Eloise were suitably cut when her ladyship ordered the carriage to increase speed just as the pair was almost beside them.

‘Oooh!’ Mrs Royston gasped. ‘She’ll
never
forgive you for having done that to them, Mary! That woman and her daughter won’t stop until they’ve found some way to pay you back.’

‘Hah! Just let them try! I’ll soon have
two
daughters married well, and Millicent Marchant still can’t find any poor fool willing to wed her Eloise at any price.’ She brushed an imaginary speck of dust from her skirt. ‘Now what was I saying about the wedding? Ah, yes. Emily is taking scant interest in the preparations, and I’m afraid to say that Victoria allows so much of her time to be taken up by charity work that I see little of her at home these days. And I do feel that she’s accepting far too many invitations. She’s a very popular girl, you know.’

Mrs Royston looked at Lady Mary sharply. ‘Don’t tell me she’s formed some attachment? She must be aware that Howard is sure to be back from Barbados before long, and I know he’ll be ready to make her an offer.’

Lady Mary felt like singing for joy when she returned home. Her little Emily was about to be the most beautiful bride ever to walk down an aisle. Poor Mr Clifford could be forgiven for having inherited such an unfortunate lack of good looks when he’d been born into a wealthy family with elderly relatives who had produced no other heirs.

She was halfway up the stairs when her thoughts switched to
Victoria. Yes, she’d grown into a charming, intelligent girl, though she lacked the golden beauty of her two sisters. But she’d developed something else – poise? A quick wit? Whatever it was, that spark was attracting a growing number of gentlemen to their door.

At that moment, Lady Mary heard the sound of it opening, and looked over the banister to see Victoria standing on the threshold with a man that no mother in her position could ever approve of. She blew a hiss of irritation between her teeth. No young lawyer whose father owned a small iron foundry in the Midlands would ever be considered a suitable escort for a daughter of this house. Victoria had been told repeatedly about her mother’s view on associating with people who were not of their own social class, yet she still showed an infuriating streak of independence in choosing her acquaintances.

‘Thank you, Oliver, it was a wonderful recital,’ Lady Mary heard her saying to the slim, grey-suited man at her side.

Though she was unable to catch his reply, her blood froze when she witnessed the warm familiarity with which Victoria leaned forward and lifted her cheek to be kissed before the man ran down the steps.

‘I’ll see you at the Alcock’s dinner on Tuesday,’ she called after him, then turned to walk across the hall, smiling to herself.