Melinda Hammond (2 page)

 As the dim light penetrated the carriage, Mr Bannerman regarded his passenger. She was sitting in her corner, wrapped in a serviceable travelling cloak and shallow-crowned bonnet. Her hands were clasped tightly in her lap and a slight frown creasing her brow as she looked out of the window.

 'Is there anything wrong, Miss Shore?'

 'I wonder if this is quite wise.'

 He gave a short laugh.

 'To drive off with a man you have never seen before? Definitely not! Tell me why you did it.'

 She glanced across the carriage, but his face was in shadow. She sighed.

 'Because I was angry. I have a temper, you see.'

 'I did notice the touch of red in your hair when I first saw you.'

 'My mother's legacy, as is the temper.'

 'A disadvantage in a governess, I would think.' He opined gravely and was rewarded by hearing her chuckle.

 'A distinct disadvantage, sir! After Sir Toby tried to - to kiss me,' she paused, reflecting that the incident seemed so much more trivial since her companion had made light of it. 'After that, I wanted to quit the house with all speed, but I could see no practical way to do so. My savings were used to pay the coach fare here, and I did not think I could ask Sir Toby to pay me for the weeks I have worked. To leave with no money, and no references, would have been folly. And then you told me I was an heiress and offered to take me away. I was never so grateful for anything in my life.'

 'Indeed? You gave me a very frosty reception.'

 'Did I? That was because I was so angry at what had occurred. I am not usually so impolite.' She gave a little laugh. 'Although I was tempted to be
very
impolite to Sir Toby when he chanced upon us leaving the house! I wanted to give him such a set-down.'

 'Then why didn't you? He no longer has any power over you.'

 'The poor man looked so shocked and dismayed when you told him I had inherited a considerable fortune that my anger disappeared, in fact, I wanted only to laugh at him! Is it true, by the by,
have
I inherited a fortune?'

 'That depends upon your extravagance, Miss Shore.'

 'What, no house in London, no carriage pulled by high-stepping thoroughbreds?'

 She saw the gleam of his white teeth as he grinned in the darkness.

 'Is that really what you want, madam?'

 'No, sir. As long as I have my independence I shall be happy.' She paused to gaze again out of the window. 'Do we travel to Highclough tonight?'

 'Of course not. I have a room at the New Inn at Matlock.'

 'Well, we must hope they will be able to find me a room, too.'

 'That should not be a problem. I travelled here with a companion, a young man called James Marsden but he has moved into the Greyhound at Cromford. No doubt his room is still free.

 'Oh, good. And - and is it very expensive at the inn, sir? Only … '

 'Only you have no money.' He suggested.

 'Precious little.'

 'Then you must allow me to fund you.'

 'Only until I can repay you!' she answered swiftly.

 'Of course. I would expect no less of an independent lady.'

* * * *

 Arriving at the New Inn, Verity considered her travelling companion as she followed a servant up the narrow wooden stairs to her room. Rafe Bannerman was a strange gentleman. He had a blunt way of speaking but he was not unkind, and she was more unnerved by his perception than his brusque manner. She wondered again if she had been very foolish to set off into the unknown with a complete stranger. After all, what did she know about this man, except that he was acquainted with her family? However, she was a practical young woman and reason told her that she was as safe in a public inn as she had been at Hucklow Hall. In fact, she thought wryly, probably safer.

 Some thirty minutes later Miss Shore entered the private parlour where she was to dine with Mr Bannerman, hiding her uncertainty behind a calm smile. The gentleman, she noted, had removed his driving coat to display a close-fitting coat of blue superfine and buckskins which showed his tall, athletic figure to advantage. The snowy white ruffles at his neck and wrists looked crisp and fresh and his black top-boots were gleaming and free from dust. Verity felt positively dowdy in her serviceable grey gown, and could only be thankful that she had taken the time to re-pin her hair.

 'I hope I have not kept you waiting, sir?'

 'Not at all.'

 He escorted her to the table, where a waiter hovered, ready to serve her. She felt a little nervous, dining alone with a gentleman, but Mr Bannerman's easy manner soon put her at her ease, and by the time the waiter withdrew she felt confident enough to ask her companion how he had explained her presence to the landlord.

 His black brows rose.

 'I didn't explain anything. Why should I?'

 'Surely he thought my sudden appearance a little odd?'

 'Perhaps, but it's no business of his.' He paused, regarding her with a disquieting gleam in his eyes. 'Are you concerned he will think you are my mistress?'

 A gurgle of laughter escaped her.

 'A dowdy female in a shabby gown and unfashionable bonnet? I am sure you can do better for yourself, sir!'

 He frowned. 'Is that how you see yourself? You are in error, Miss Shore. You may not be dressed in the height of fashion, but there is nothing to be ashamed of in your appearance. You are every inch a lady - in fact you have a great deal of countenance.'

 Verity flushed. 'I was not looking for compliments, sir.'

 'And I gave you none.'

 Miss Shore turned her attention to her dinner: this man's plain speaking had made her stray from the usual forms of social conversation, and that was clearly unsafe. How much of her unease was apparent to her companion she could only guess, for he gave no sign that he noticed anything amiss.

 He refilled her wineglass

 'My enquiries suggest that you left school to become a governess.'

 'Yes sir. My teachers recommended me to a family with only one daughter, a sickly child too poorly to attend school. Unfortunately she died within six months of my appointment and I was forced to find another post.'

 Mr Bannerman nodded. 'I traced you to the seminary you attended, and they told me of your appointment, but I could not trace the family.'

 'No, they moved from Portsmouth almost immediately after I left them. I think the memories were too much to bear … however, they gave me letters of introduction to Lady Panbury, whose three daughters needed a governess. I was with them for almost two years, and when the girls went off to school, I applied to Lady Hucklow.'

 'Forgive me - was it really necessary for you to take such a post?'

 She returned his look steadily. 'I had no other means of supporting myself.'

 'It is a pity you did not apply to your grandfather.'

 'I believed we were irrevocably cut off from my paternal relations.' She pushed away her plate and sat back. 'Why did you come?' she asked, intrigued. 'Surely you could have written to me.'

 'I had business in the area and told Reedley, the family lawyer, that I would seek you out - he and I are executors of your grandfather's will, you see, and your trustees.' He paused as the servant appeared with fresh coffee and Verity used the interruption to consider her position.

 'Do you know,' she said when they were alone again. 'I have no idea where we are going? I was so angry with Sir Toby and eager to be gone that I gave no thought to the future.'

 'Do you know nothing of your grandfather?'

 'Only that he lives - lived in Yorkshire. I have always understood that when Father left to join the navy he was told he would never be allowed to return, so when he married my mother they settled in Portsmouth and all connection with the family was lost.' She paused, then added slowly, 'I believe my parents were very happy together, and never regretted their marriage. Mama's father had been a sea-captain, but she was an orphan when she met Papa, living with her Cousins and they disowned her when she declared her intention to marry. There was never much money, barely enough for me to finish my education. But Father would not countenance contacting his family. Mama told me he swore he could never return to Highclough.'

 'But you can?'

 'I am not in a position to refuse.' She responded in her frank way. 'Please, will you tell me something about Highclough? I know it is in Yorkshire - near Harrogate, perhaps?'

 He pushed his chair back and turned slightly, stretching out his long legs towards the fire.

 'Nothing so fashionable. There is a small village, Derringden, but it boasts little more than a church and a rather disreputable inn. The nearest town of any note is Halifax, which is about ten miles distant. The estate comprises a mixture of woods and farmland with the house itself sitting on the slope that lies between the deep-sided valleys and the moors - the shelf, as it is called locally. The weather can be savage, but on a fine day one can ride for miles across the top of the world, following the cry of the curlews in the spring, and with only the skylark for company in summer.'

 'You talk as if you love it.'

 'I do. My own land borders your grandfather's acres and I grew up almost as part of the family.' He looked across at her. 'I pray you will not think too harshly of Sir Ambrose: he was a proud, stubborn man, a trait inherited by his son - your father. They would neither of them relent.'

 Verity leaned forward. 'Will you tell me about my father? I hardly knew him, you see. To me he was the handsome hero who would return periodically from sea. At such times he would throw me up on to his shoulders and dance about the room with Mama. We were very happy then, but such times were very brief.'

 'I was still only a boy when Charles ran off to join the navy, but I remember that he was a fine-looking young man, and a courageous rider. He was open-handed and generous - he and Evelyn were always willing to let me, a mere schoolboy, tag along when they went shooting or fishing. When Charles had gone, Evelyn allowed me to fill his role, and we grew up to be good friends.'

 'And Evelyn died two years ago?'

 'Nearly three years now. A hunting accident. Broke his neck.' He rose, saying abruptly, 'If you have finished your meal it might be best to retire. I plan to reach Highclough tomorrow, so we must make an early start - before dawn. I have already despatched a rider ahead of us to warn them of your arrival.'

 Verity nodded.

 'Ask the Boots to rouse me: I can be ready within the hour.'

* * * *

 Verity acknowledged the comfort of her bed, and she was grateful that the landlady had warmed the sheets, but still it was a long time before she slept. It had been a strange day. She had moved from being a poor governess, persecuted by her employer, to an heiress. She had no idea of her likely fortune, but Rafe Bannerman's description of the estate gave her reason to believe she would be able to live in comfort. She knew a moment's panic at the thought of being mistress of a large, strange household, but reason told her there would be people to help her. The lawyer, Mr Reedley, perhaps, or even Mr Bannerman himself: he was, after all, a trustee and appeared to know Highclough very well. Verity snuggled her cheek into her hand and closed her eyes. Those were problems for later. She would worry about such matters as and when they arose.

* * * *

Miss Shore was woken by a sleepy boot-boy some hours before dawn the following morning and she dressed by the light of one flickering candle. A welcome fire, coffee and a plate of bread and butter awaited her in the private parlour, where there was no sign of Mr Bannerman, but evidence that he had already broken his fast. Verity was pouring a second cup of coffee when the gentleman strode in.

 'So you are up at last. Are you ready to leave?'

 'Good morning, Mr Bannerman.' She spoke with studied calm, determined to remind him of his manners. 'There is more coffee - would you like me to pour a cup for you?'

 'No - thank you. As soon as you are ready, madam, we should be going. We have a long journey ahead of us.'

 Miss Shore sipped at the strong, dark brew while her companion hovered about the room with obvious impatience. She cast him a speculative glance.

 'I bade the servant bring my bags downstairs: perhaps you would like to see them safely packed while I finish my coffee?' she suggested.

 The gentleman's scowl grew blacker. He opened the door and growled an order at the waiting lackeys. Miss Shore hid her smile and turned back to finish her breakfast. A few minutes later she was ready, and throwing her travelling cloak about her shoulders, she followed Mr Bannerman into the yard. She cast a mischievous look at his stormy face.

 'Because
you
dislike early mornings sir, you should not display your foul temper to the servants.'

 'I am not in a foul temper!' he snapped, handing her into the coach.

 'Then perhaps it is the effects of too much wine last night,' she offered. 'I understand that can make gentlemen very crotchety.'

 Her companion threw himself into the corner and tossed his hat onto the seat beside him.

 'The only thing that irritates me in the mornings, madam, is a chattering female.'

 Verity laughed. 'Very well, sir, I am sorry. I shall tease you no longer.'

* * * *

 To a young lady used to the discomfort of the common stage, her current mode of travel proved a pleasant change. The well-sprung travelling carriage bowled over the uneven roads, its occupants cushioned by the thickly padded seats. Verity warmed her feet on a hot brick pushed into the sheepskin that lined the floor and, wrapped in her warm cloak, she gazed out of the window into the morning darkness. The moon gave some assistance to light the road, but a line of hills to the east presented a black outline against the first grey light of dawn. However, by the time they reached Rowsley the cold, grey dawn was giving way to a rosy sunrise. Verity delighted in the pink gold light that flooded over the hills, glinting on the frosty cobwebs hanging in profusion from the few bare trees. Verity wanted to share the moment with her companion, but a glance in his direction showed her that the gentleman was leaning back against the squabs, his eyes closed. Undaunted, she settled back to enjoy the unfamiliar countryside.