A World Apart (29 page)

‘Could I suggest, Miss De Havilland, that we should have an answer in an hour or so? Perhaps you could take coffee meantime? There is an excellent coffee house nearby, hard by the church.' He pointed, and she left the building.

Carruthers returned soon afterwards.

‘Sir, Judge Fortescue sits next week.'

‘The money, Carruthers.'

‘I asked the clerk, and he told me of the judge's schedule. I thought that a week would suit you well enough, sir. I kept the money, sir.'

‘Give it me.' Shaw reached for his already-bulging money pouch and squeezed in the coins.

On the hour, Louisa returned. Carruthers ushered her into his master's office.

‘Great news, Miss De Havilland. We prevailed upon the appropriate officers, and now Judge Fortescue will sit next week.'

‘So my, er, encouragement worked.'

‘Indeed, Miss. It now remains for us to arrange a certain arrest.'

During her first night at the Bull Inn, Eliza considered ways to progress her quest. She hired a coach and four and bid the driver visit Marley for the day. Making sure her best dress was immaculate, that the brim of her large hat shaded her face so that it would be difficult for anyone to see her eyes, she walked round Marley's village square. Surprised at her welling emotions, she wiped away a disobedient tear. How could the sight of a gaggle of shops, a duck pond, have cut so deep into her feelings? Then she remembered. Many a time she had sat by the pond, or near the shops, and waited for Harry to ride by. And on those rare happy days that she saw him, she had wept. But now was no time for tears.

She stepped into the milliner's, surveyed the rack of hats. A young woman approached, smiling. Eliza scanned her face minutely. No, she was not one of the village girls who had grown up with Eliza, nor attended the village school where she had taught. It would safe to engage in casual gossip.

‘May I help you, ma'am?' The girl curtseyed, evidently sizing up Eliza as a wealthy, fashion-conscious lady.

‘Elisa pursed her lips into a kiss. Her accent must sound perfectly gentlewoman.

‘Thank you. Perhaps this apricot hatband?'

‘Yes, ma'am. We have others as well. Excuse me.' She bent behind the counter and began shuffling through a large box.

‘I wonder,' Eliza let the words float forth casually. ‘A Mr Harold De Havilland from these parts. Do you know of him?'

‘Indeed I do, ma'am. We all do. Mr Harry be the viscount's son. A handsome lad, if ever was.'

‘I ask because for a while, a friend of mine, Miss Myrtle Forsyth of Piccadilly, she went on outings with him. She told me he came from these parts.'

‘Ah, yes, ma'am. For some years now, he has graced the London Season.'

‘Oh. And I expect he is happily wed by now. I should like to tell Myrtle.' She smiled. ‘I should confess something on her behalf. She was rather smitten with him. Asked me to visit these parts during my time in Dorchester.'

‘Oh, no, ma'am. Mr Harry has not wed. There's been many a girl eager to marry him, but it seems his heart is already lost to another.'

‘Oh. So should I tell my friend that he…?'

‘I shouldn't, ma'am. We hear he planned to take ship for Botany Bay. T'is said his true love went there, perhaps a couple of years ago. I think her name be Eliza Something-or-other, from what the old gossips say. Not that he should have much chance. They say as marriageable women in the colonies are scarcer than hen's teeth.' She laughed. Eliza caught her breath. She swallowed her shock and wound up her courage, following suit with a polite giggle.

‘Er, I should like the lilac headband,' she said, pointing.

‘Thank you ma'am. That be five shillings. All the way from France. Pure silk.'

‘Here.' She pressed a guinea into the young woman's hand. ‘The change is yours.'

So Harry planned to take ship for New South Wales. Mayhap he remembered their love, their blood vows…

‘Excuse me, ma'am.' The shopgirl's voice stopped Eliza as she stepped into the street. ‘Mr Harry — I might have been wrong about his taking ship.' Eliza turned, her recollections of the man she would always love suddenly cut short. ‘We heard tell he planned to visit a friend before he departed. Sir Maynard Hailsham of Aveleigh. A day's drive from these parts. And indeed, Sir Maynard stepped into this shop this morning, asking after his friend Mr Harry. He said as he might return this afternoon and — but wait. He's here!' The shopgirl smiled and curtseyed as a young gentleman stood in the doorway.

‘And have you heard aught of Mr Harry?' he asked.

Eliza turned as she heard the cultured male voice. The man stood before her, dressed in riding habit, his fair hair catching the sun. Eliza took in his face, his body. Certainly he was not Harry. He stood shorter, a little stooped, his shoulders narrow. Certainly, the sight of him did not cause her to melt at the knees. He smiled as they stood face to face.

Excuse me, sir. But madam,' She waved in Eliza's direction. ‘She also seeks Mr Harry.'

‘I might have guessed.' The man smiled. ‘A beautiful young woman enquiring after Harry. T'is only to be expected.'

‘But why do you…?'

‘Ah.' His smile widened. ‘Harry and I, we were friends at Oxford. Then he…quit. He told me at the time that the daily servings of Greek philosophy and irregular French verbs were not good for his health. Then we corresponded. And he lately visited me at my home, not more than a day's ride from here.'

‘Thank you.' Eliza curtseyed, clamping her jaw to hide her excitement. ‘I happen to be visiting these parts for a day or so. I sought him because of a friend of mine. Miss Myrtle Forsyth…' She launched again into the fiction she had woven for the shopgirl.

‘And pardon me, I should have introduced myself. I am Mrs Alice Bentleigh, but recently widowed.' She struggled to affect a moment of sadness.

‘Delighted to make your acquaintance, ma'am.' The man swept off his hat, bowed low. A tangle of pale curls fell across his forehead. ‘Maynard Hailsham, viscount apparent, at your service.' He bowed again, smiled, and continued. ‘To my surprise, Harry has lately developed an interest in gardens. He has given me but the vaguest of hints as to why. Perhaps to do with painfully lingering memories of a lady lost to him, a lady with whom he took romantic walks in a garden. Perhaps a vain hope that if he created fine gardens he might entice her back. Like a bee to a sweetly perfumed flower, so to speak.'

‘Mmm. I must confess to a liking for gardens,' Eliza murmured. ‘I have recently read some of the works of Capability Brown.'

‘Capability Brown?' Hailsham raised his hands in mock horror. ‘Why, his works are positively archaic. Before ever you put spade to turf, you must see gardens
á la môde
. The gardens of Brierley Hall, my family's seat these last few centuries.'

Eliza smiled to herself at the young man's passion. She was rather more interested in Harry's whereabouts, but she could hardly say as much to Hailsham.

‘And is this Harry De Havilland, your friend, where is he now?' she asked, tweaking her voice to sound off-hand.

‘Mayhap somewhere close to Brierley Hall. I gave him rooms — a cottage close to the Hall. We spent some time together in London, taking in the sights.'

‘So, perhaps he is in residence at your cottage as we speak?' Eliza hardly dared to breathe. She watched a slow smile spread across his face, as if he had just conceived a wonderful idea.

‘Indeed.' The man's smile grew. He cleared his throat and spoke, if a little diffidently.

‘How can I frame my suggestion in a gentlemanly way?' He cleared his throat again. ‘I should be delighted for you to visit Brierley Hall, and perhaps meet Harry De Havilland. But I understand that a newly widowed lady might not wish to travel so far with a stranger.'

‘Mmm.' Eliza weighed her options, torn between decency and opportunity.

He smiled again — a frankly opportunistic smile. ‘I have a coach and four stabled at the inn. I leave on the morrow. Early.'

‘Indeed.' Eliza had made up her mind. If a day's ride in a coach and four with a gentleman she hardly knew brought her to back into Harry's arms, she would do it. Besides, Hailsham looked and acted the epitome of the well-mannered gentleman.

‘I should very much look forward to such a visit, sir. I planned to return to my Dorchester rooms this evening, but I have no pressing need to do so.'

Now Hailsham's smile almost split his face in two. ‘Very well, my lady. Say we depart the inn at eight o'clock tomorrow morning?'

‘Excellent. I shall stay at the inn tonight. Meet you at eight o'clock.'

‘And perhaps you might wish to stay at Brierley Hall for a few days? If it transpires that Harry is still enraptured by his new passion, gardens, and hasn't yet returned.'

He bowed towards Eliza. This time she fancied his eyes burned into hers. Could he be thinking she was unattached, a rich gentlewoman? Which indeed she was, in the letter of the law.

‘Does that accord with madam's plans?'

‘Why, thank you,' Eliza smiled. ‘I am very grateful, sir, for your kindness.'

By the time the coach rolled away from the inn next morning, Eliza had coped with her nervousness at the prospect of spending the day with Hailsham. Time passed pleasantly enough as the coach rolled through towns and fields. Hailsham conversed interestingly about his passions for all things scientific, finding connection with Eliza across a diversity of subjects from astronomy to steam engines.

At four o'clock, the chariot rolled to a halt outside the grand staircase of Brierley Hall. As the butler met them, Hailsham enquired after Harry's whereabouts.

‘Why sir, he departed for Marley, a week and more gone. He lately sent word that his father was poorly. He apologised for his departure, and left a letter. He told me it was to thank you for your kind hospitality and explaining his doings in more detail.' The butler looked nervously at Eliza. ‘Begging your pardon, sir, I understand he has long talked of taking ship to Botany Bay one day.'

Eliza fought tears. To have glowed with joy at the prospect of meeting Harry, then spent much of the night imagining their reunion; and now to have that joy suddenly hacked away by a machete… As soon as she enjoyed a moment of privacy, she must lay plans. For the moment, she should hide her disappointment and act the disinterested lady on an errand of mercy for her fictitious friend, the lovesick Miss Myrtle Forsyth. Then on the morrow she must make swift departure for Southampton. And she must hide her shock while ever she spent time in Hailsham's company.

As they walked from the coach, he summoned a maid to take Eliza to her chambers in the rambling building.

‘Join me on the veranda for a spot of tea after the maid has shown you to your chambers,' Hailsham offered, ever the easygoing gentleman.

A few minutes later, Eliza made her way to the veranda, dressed in a modestly beribboned afternoon frock of pale gold muslin, lately bought in Dorchester. As an afterthought
as she finished dressing, she wore the new boots she had lately bought, admitting that she had already owned more than enough footwear for the journey. Though pretty enough for taking tea, the boots might also serve for a walk through the famous gardens if Hailsham offered.

‘My dear Mrs Bentleigh,' Hailsham rose from his chair and bowed. Eliza had noticed during their first meeting that for a young viscount apparent, he bowed very often and very low. Was this his habit, or had he behaved so simply for her benefit? Again, she flinched at the directness of his gaze.

‘I'm glad you arrived promptly,' her host said. ‘So that we can spend a moment in private. Without servants taking in our every move.' He cleared his throat. ‘Pardon my directness,' he said. ‘But I simply must say it. I find your company quite…delightful, Mrs Bentleigh. And I hope to enjoy more of that company while you visit.'

His intense blue eyes burned into hers yet again. Was he scrutinising her hair? Her dress? Her smile? She hoped she would appear demure. Whatever, the look told Eliza that he was indeed enjoying her company. As they sat in the afternoon shade of the veranda with its view of the sweeping gardens, the sound of a carriage broke through their amiable chatter. Hailsham looked towards the drive.

‘Lucinda! My sister. She's come home from her season in London. Bringing her fiancé. And our aunt as chaperone, of course. She plans to introduce him to the delights of Brierley Hall.' He waved a hand in the direction of the spacious garden-fringed lawn. ‘Like Harry, he is lately become rather enchanted by gardens, as would seem to be the fashion among young blades these days. Excuse me. I must greet her.' He ran across the lawn. Eliza watched as a young lady and gentleman, then an elderly woman, descended from the coach. A few minutes later Lucinda and the gentleman, name of Eustace, joined them on the veranda.

A maid appeared with trays of tea and cakes. Eliza found herself blending with the happy, lighthearted atmosphere, with her companions. It was as though she were indeed a titled lady passing the time of day with her equals. She smiled to herself. If only her mother could see her now. After they'd enjoyed a merry hour of conversation, a chill in the breeze reminded them that evening had come.

‘Why, this jollity is too pleasant to be ended so soon,' Hailsham said. ‘We should take a turn through the gardens. You told me, Eustace, that you have toured the southern counties with the express purpose of studying gardens. Meantime, I'll tell Cook to organise a splendid welcome home dinner in Lucinda's honour.'

The foursome met a half-hour later. Hailsham led them along a paved path to a belt of ornamental trees bordering a lake.

‘We mustn't miss the waterfall,' he said. ‘Let's make haste. It will be dark soon.' Soon Eliza noticed that Hailsham stayed close to her while Eustace and Lucinda walked on ahead. He held out an arm to her. After hesitating for a moment, she took it. In the poor light, she might stumble.