A Christmas Courtship (4 page)

Hannah chose that moment to glance toward the windows, and she was just in time to see Jake driving past with the pony and trap. ‘That husband of mine is here at last, and not before time! I intend to give him a piece of my mind,’ she said briskly, getting up to put on her cloak.

The diversion apparently at an end, the dining room resumed its previous noise. A babble of conversation broke out, and the usual accompaniment of clattering crockery and cutlery was added to the general racket of a busy inn.

The lady in pink continued to complain to herself. The settle was uncomfortable, the floor was dusty, there should be a screen to shield her face from the heat of the fire, the smell of food was making her feel ill, and the noise was giving her a headache; she had a seemingly endless list of grumbles, all of them uttered just audibly, but what appeared to anger her the most was that she’d been hasty enough to desert the Christmas diversions of London in order to come to a place that was surely at the back of beyond. Her voice was petulant and affected, and it grated on Blanche like a nail being dragged across glass.

As Hannah tied her cloak, Blanche rose as well. ‘Hannah, about Antony…’ she began, putting the lady in pink from her thoughts in order to speak of more important things.

‘It’s your business, Miss Blanche, yours and Mr Amberley’s, but if you want my opinion….’

‘I think I know it already. You don’t approve.’

‘The Mortimers are upstarts, Miss Blanche, and your family are gentlefolk through and through. Such opposites don’t mix well, and shouldn’t attempt to. As to a Christmas betrothal when you hardly know him, I think it’s the height of folly, that’s what I think.’

‘I love him, and he loves me. Besides, why isn’t there such disapproval shown of arranged matches? My parents’ marriage was arranged….’

‘That’s different.’

‘Is it?’

Hannah paused. ‘Forgive me for saying this, Miss Blanche, but there are things whispered about Master Antony, things that don’t make him any better than his father, and you know what’s said of
him.
They’re both hard and ruthless, and would stoop to anything if they thought it would do themselves some financial good.’

Blanche stiffened, and became cool. ‘Don’t say anything more, Hannah, for you’re repeating spiteful gossip that is entirely without foundation.’

‘Is that so? It’s gossip that informed me all about this in the first place, Miss Blanche, and there was foundation enough in what I heard,’ replied Hannah quietly, her voice almost drowned by the babble of noise in the room. ‘Still, as I said before, it’s none of my business, for I’m just the housekeeper.’

Blanche’s coolness softened, and she put a quick hand on the other’s arm. ‘You’re more than just the housekeeper, Hannah Cutler, and you know it.’

‘I love you, my dear, and I don’t want to see you enter a
misalliance
. I think you’d best prepare yourself for disappointment anyway, for your father will not agree to such a marriage.’

Blanche didn’t say anything more, for if her father refused his permission and thus removed Mr Mortimer’s hope of flattering words in the Duke of Norfolk’s ear, then it would all come to nothing anyway. She looked quickly away, pretending to repin one of her wayward curls. She mustn’t think of the worst, she must hope that she could persuade her father to give his consent.

She felt the lady in pink’s rather withering gaze upon her. The feline eyes swept her contemptuously from head to toe,
lingering
first on her unfashionable boots with their pointed toes, and last on her unruly hair, which was so unwilling to be restrained by the pins. When set beside such an immaculate, breathtakingly beautiful vision of modish excellence, Blanche felt very dowdy and out of date indeed, just as the lady intended her to feel. It was a silent moment of unnecessary spite-fulness on the lady’s part, proof, if any were needed, that she was as unpleasant on the inside as she appeared to be on the outside.

Hannah finished tying her cloak, adjusted her hat, and then bent to retrieve her full shopping basket from the settle. Then she turned to leave the dining room, but at that precise moment the inn maid arrived with a tray on which stood a glass of Burgundy wine for the lady. The accident happened in a split moment. Hannah knocked against the maid’s arm, and the glass of wine went flying, spilling its contents all over the lady. Red stains splashed onto the exquisite cloth of the pink pelisse and dripped into the soft white fur trimming, to say nothing of drenching the dainty muff.

With a squeal of unutterable fury, the lady leapt to her feet. ‘You clumsy oaf! You fool!’ she shrieked.

The dining room fell instantly silent again as once more all eyes were upon the lady. Blanche looked on in dismay, and Hannah could only stand there, horrified at what she’d so unwittingly caused to happen. The landlord had returned, and halted uneasily as he saw that the difficult lady was causing yet another scene.

The lady was so beside herself with anger that she hardly knew what she was doing. Catching sight of the inn maid still holding the empty tray, she suddenly lashed out, striking the unfortunate girl on the cheek and leaving red marks. The maid dropped the tray with a clatter, burst into tears, and ran from the room.

Hannah was appalled still more. ‘It was my fault, not the maid’s….’ she began.

‘Would you rather I struck you?’ cried the lady, brushing aside her own maid, who’d hurried to try to wipe the stains with a handkerchief. ‘Leave me, you fool, what good will that do?’

‘
Pardon, madame, mais
….’

‘Oh, do be quiet!’

‘
Oui, madame.
’ The maid drew hastily away.

The lady eyed Hannah again. ‘And how do you intend to pay for the damage you’ve done?’ she demanded icily.

Hannah stared at her. ‘Pay for it? I can’t possibly afford to pay for such expensive clothes.’

‘Do you imagine that I intend to pay for something
you
did? You will pay for this, and pay dearly.’

Blanche stepped forward then. ‘It was an accident, my lady, a very regrettable accident, but there’s no need….’

‘And who, pray, might you be?’ demanded the lady coldly.

Before Blanche could reply, the landlord found his tongue at last, and hurried forward.

‘My lady….’ he began.

‘What is it now?’ she demanded, shaking out her skirts and again pushing away her maid, who’d found a towel somewhere and had returned to endeavor to mop up the wine.

The landlord cleared his throat awkwardly. ‘Lady Hetherington, Sir Edmund Brandon has arrived from the bishop’s residence. His carriage awaits you in the courtyard.’

Hot dismay swept through Blanche, and she looked again at the lady in pink. This was Athena, Lady Hetherington? This odious, willful, affected creature was the queen of London society? It didn’t say much for the capital’s judgment, and said even less for Sir Edmund Brandon’s!

Lady Hetherington hadn’t really paid attention to what the landlord had said, and was still more concerned with snapping at her maid, whose efforts were well meant but ineffectual. The rest of the dining room had heard, however, and a ripple of whispers spread around the tables. Something made Blanche look suddenly toward the door, where a tall, exceedingly
handsome
military figure had appeared in time to witness everything subsequent to the spilling of the wine. Sir Edmund stood there, apparently caught a little off guard by the extraordinary scene that greeted him. His clear blue eyes were thoughtful as he slowly placed his black cocked hat on a side table that was used for trays of clean cutlery, then he swung his greatcoat from around his shoulders and dropped it casually next to the hat.

His thick hair was so dark that it was almost black, and he wore it with the side whiskers that were de rigueur among army officers; it was a style that greatly enhanced his aristocratic good looks. He had a lean, manly figure, broad-shouldered and narrow-hipped, and he moved with a natural elegance and grace. His skin was tanned from the months he’d spent in Spain fighting the French, but beneath the tan he was pale and unwell. He was thinner than he had been two years before, when Blanche and he had taken such an intense dislike to each other, and the recently healed scar on his forehead was a stark
reminder of how close to death he’d come at the hands of the enemy. It was three months now since he’d been invalided home, but he was far from recovered. An air of weariness pervaded him now, robbing him of that edge and vitality that Blanche remembered so well from before.

But if his health was not restored, he still cut a very dashing and attractive figure. Few men could have appeared more to advantage in the eyecatching uniform of a high-ranking British army officer. His scarlet double-breasted tailcoat had broad navy-blue panels that plunged from the gold-encrusted collar to the waist, and the tails were narrowly turned back to reveal a pristine white lining. There was lavish gold trimming on the cuffs and epaulettes, and a wide crimson sash that accentuated his slender waist. His skin-tight white breeches disappeared into shining, spurred Hessian boots, and a sword in a black-andgold sheath swung against his left thigh. He was every inch a man of action and authority, and every inch a testimony to the
excellence
of his Bond Street tailor. But for all his fashionable elegance, there was nothing of a toy soldier about him, he was in the army because he chose to be, and his strong, disciplined manner spoke volumes of his worth on the battlefield.

Blanche watched him as he slowly teased off his white gloves and dropped them on top of his greatcoat. Without a doubt he was the epitome of masculine beauty; it was a shame she knew him to be cold, arrogant, and insufferably superior.

Lady Hetherington became suddenly aware of him, whirling about with a gasp. A conflict of expressions passed through her magnificent green eyes as he began to walk slowly toward her, then she took a halting step forward, one trembling hand held out as if she hadn’t the strength to go further. He’d almost reached her when suddenly she ran the final few steps, choking back a sob as she flung her arms around his neck in front of the entire room.

‘Oh, Edmund,’ she cried tearfully, ‘I’ve had the most wretched time in this dreadful place!’ She clung to him as if her body were molded to his.

He was a little embarrassed and gently disentangled her arms, drawing back. ‘What on earth are you doing here now, Athena?’ 
he asked softly, his words just audible to Blanche, who was
closest
to them both. ‘I didn’t expect you before the new year at the earliest.’

‘I-I had to come, Edmund, I couldn’t leave things as they were. Besides, I wanted to spend Christmas alone with you. And then my wretched carriage struck a stone and was damaged, and that fool of a coachman could only just drive it here. Please don’t be angry with me, for I love you very much.’

Blanche could only watch the performance with speechless admiration.

The disagreeable, hard-hearted shrew of a few moments before had somehow vanished, and in her place was a soft, tremulous kitten. Blanche wasn’t alone in her astonishment, for the entire room gaped. The landlord was so startled that his mouth opened and closed, as if he doubted his own sanity. Was this wilting, gentle creature really the unreasonable, demanding shrew he’d been endeavoring so unsuccessfully to please?

Sir Edmund softened, smiling into his bride-to-be’s sorrowful green eyes. ‘I’m not angry with you, Athena, how could I be?’ He glanced down then, seeing the stains for the first time. ‘What happened?’

‘That clumsy person knocked a glass of wine all over me,’ replied Athena, turning accusingly toward Hannah.

‘Did she indeed?’ murmured Sir Edmund, glancing at the housekeeper.

Hannah’s chin was raised defensively. ‘It was an accident, Sir Edmund. I did not see the maid with the tray.’

Athena’s voice shook a little, as if she was close to tears. ‘My clothes are ruined because of your negligence.’

Blanche was suddenly angry. ‘It was hardly negligence, Lady Hetherington,’ she said coldly.

Sir Edmund turned, his blue eyes sharpening. ‘Haven’t we met before?’ he asked.

‘Yes, sir, we have.’

‘Miss Amberley, is it not?’

‘It is.’

‘Yet another unfortunate encounter, it seems,’ he said,
referring
to two years before.

She held his gaze. ‘Yes, it does indeed seem to be,’ she replied.

Athena looked at Blanche now with a different expression on her face. ‘Amberley? Of Amberly Court?’ she asked.

Blanche nodded. ‘Previously of Amberley Court,’ she corrected.

A thin smile curved Athena’s lips, and the green glance moved disparagingly over Blanche’s appearance. ‘Ah, yes, to be sure,’ she murmured.

Color warmed Blanche’s cheeks, and she turned to Sir Edmund again. ‘Sir, Lady Hetherington is demanding that my housekeeper pay for the damage to her clothes. I believe that that is very unreasonable indeed, and I appeal to you to
intervene
.’

Athena’s nostrils flared, and she stiffened with disbelief. ‘How dare you!’ she cried.

But Blanche stood her ground. Let Major-General Sir Edmund Brandon, the hero of Vimiero, uphold his willful lady love in public, let him show himself to be as disagreeable as she.

Sir Edmund was silent for a moment, his gaze not wavering from Blanche. ‘I’m sure that Lady Hetherington uttered the words in the heat of the moment, Miss Amberley,’ he said at last.

Athena’s lips clamped shut, and a nerve flickered at her temple, but she didn’t protest.

Blanche still looked at him. ‘Do I take it that that is the end of the incident, Sir Edmund?’

‘You do, Miss Amberley.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied, a little surprised by his more than reasonable response. ‘Come, Hannah, or Jake will wonder where we are.’ Taking Hannah’s arm, she ushered her toward the door.

As they emerged into the cold darkness of the courtyard, Hannah halted. ‘Is that creature going to be Lady Brandon?’ she asked.

‘So I understand.’

‘How did you know?’

‘Antony told me. Sir Edmund has dealings at the bank, and told Mr Mortimer.’

Hannah glanced back at the inn doorway. ‘It doesn’t bode well for Amberley St Mary, does it?’

‘No, I fear not.’

‘Miss Blanche…?’

‘Yes?’

‘Thank you. I was beginning to think I would indeed have to find the money to pay for those stains.’

‘Sir Edmund is evidently more of a gentleman than I’ve been giving him credit for.’

‘He certainly has the trappings of a gentleman, anyway,’ observed Hannah, looking at the gleaming dark green carriage that was drawn up in the courtyard. It was drawn by four dapple grays of very superior blood, and was driven by a
coachman
in Sir Edmund’s livery.

Jake was waiting with the pony and trap at the far side of the yard. He was a countryman born and bred, with a lean,
weatherbeaten
face and wiry gray hair. He was huddled in a heavy winter cloak, with his hat pulled low over his forehead, and he turned as he saw the two women approach. Clambering down from the trap, he came to take his wife’s heavy basket. ‘I thought you saw me arriving, Hannah,’ he said, placing the basket in the back of the trap. ‘I’ve been waiting here for five minutes or more.’

‘Are you complaining, Jake Cutler?’ she replied sharply. ‘Where on earth have you been all this time? You should have been here half an hour or more ago.’

‘Oh, I got yarning with some friends at the Royal Oak, and didn’t see time passing.’

‘Yarning?’ She put her hands crossly on her hips. ‘If you’ve been promising some poached game for Christmas, you can forget it!’

‘Hannah!’ He looked warily at Blanche.

Blanche smiled. ‘You surely don’t imagine I don’t know about your poaching activities, Jake?’

‘It’s only now and then, Miss Blanche,’ he protested,
glowering
at his wife.

Hannah sniffed. ‘Well, it had better be a thing of the past now, my laddo, for Sir Edmund doesn’t intend to let the likes of you get away with it, not since that gang took half his deer.’

Jake assisted her into the trap. ‘I saw him go in a few minutes
back. Fancy swell, ain’t he?’

‘I’d rather not talk about it,’ Hannah replied stiffly, making herself as comfortable as she could.

He looked curiously at her, but didn’t say anything more as he helped Blanche into the trap next to her. Amoment later the trap drove out of the inn, turning left up Westgate Street toward the crossroads. There it turned right, to drive south out of the city toward Amberley St Mary, but there was nearly always a crush of traffic at the crossroads, and Jake had to rein in for a minute or so.

Blanche glanced up at the Mortimer town house, its ornate medieval facade presiding over the center of the city it had graced for so many centuries. It was a very handsome building, half-timbered and gabled, and it caught the eye from all four roads as they converged. As she looked up at it, Blanche wondered if she would one day soon be residing there, as Antony’s wife.

Jake urged the pony into action again, and the trap turned into Southgate Street, coming up to a smart speed down the incline that led to the old city wall. As Gloucester slipped away behind, they drove through the darkness along the main highway that passed through the vale of the River Severn toward distant Bristol. It was a busy road, with the lamps of many vehicles
shining
through the darkness, their beams now and then picking out a stray snowflake drifting on the bitterly cold air. But if other vehicles boasted lamps, the trap did not, and a stagecoach passed very close indeed, its coachman only perceiving the trap at the last moment. He shouted and waved his fist angrily as he drove past, and Jake shouted after him.

After three miles, the trap turned into a narrow, overhung lane that led west toward the river. There was no moon,
everything
was very dark indeed, and from time to time Blanche felt the touch of a snowflake on her cheek. In the summertime, the drive to Amberley St Mary was very lovely, passing through rich countryside, but in the winter night it was a little frightening. Thoughts of the gang of poachers kept returning to her, and she found herself looking uneasily around, as if she’d seen stealthy figures slipping back out of sight.

The lane curved a little, passing close to the banks of the tidal river, which was very constricted at this point. The tide was out, leaving shining mudbanks that were just visible in the darkness, but soon the water would rush in again in the form of a tidal wave called a bore. It was a natural phenomenon for which the Severn was famous, and it made the river very dangerous indeed for navigation. A canal was being constructed,
connecting
Gloucester with the estuary, downstream of the hazardous bore, but it was far from complete yet, and so all shipping still had to negotiate the winding watercourse that had claimed countless lives and vessels over the centuries. Blanche had lived close to the Severn all her life, and knew its power only too well. She disliked driving along this part of the lane in the dark, with the water flowing so silently just a few feet away, and she was glad when the curve of the lane moved away from the banks again.

There was a fork ahead, one leading to the village, the other veering off to the right to lead over the hill, past St Mary’s church, to the deserted fishing house where elegant house parties from Amberley Court had once enjoyed the fashionable diversion of catching salmon and elvers. Projecting right out from the riverbank, the water visible beneath the boards of its verandah, the fishing house had at last become too dangerous to use, and was now in a state of disrepair. Blanche and her brother Jonathan had played there as children, until their father had found out and had punished them severely for being so foolish. He’d always meant to have the fishing house pulled down, but somehow he’d never done so, and so it was still there, falling further and further into disrepair with each winter.

The lights of Amberley St Mary twinkled in the darkness ahead as the trap approached the fork in the lane. The wheels rattled, and the pony’s hooves clattered, so that no one heard Sir Edmund’s carriage coming up behind at a very smart pace indeed. The coachman was tooling the dappled grays a little recklessly for such a narrow, dark lane, and he didn’t see the unlit trap until it was almost too late. Like the stagecoachman on the main highway a few minutes earlier, he was forced to rein in sharply and apply the brake.

Blanche turned suddenly, giving a scream as she saw the horses rearing and plunging only a few feet behind her. Hannah heard the scream and turned with a frightened gasp, clutching so hard at Jake’s arm that she made him jerk the reins. The pony swerved, almost catapulting the trap and its passengers into the ice-cold water of the little brook that flowed beside the lane.