Again the Magic (7 page)

Twelve years later

“I
t seems that the Americans have arrived,” Aline said dryly, as she and her sister, Livia, returned to the manor house after an early-morning walk. She paused beside the honey-colored stone facade to have a good look at the four ornate vehicles that were stopped in front of the manor house. Servants dashed across the large courtyard that fronted the manor house, from the stables located on one side, to the servants’ quarters on the other. The guests had come with a great quantity of trunks and baggage for their month-long stay at Stony Cross Park.

Livia came to stand by Aline. She was a winsome young woman of twenty-four, with light brown hair and hazel-green eyes and a slim, small figure. From her blithe manner, one would think she hadn’t a care in the world. But it became evident to anyone who looked into her eyes that she had paid a high price for the rare moments of happiness she had known.

“Silly things,” Livia said lightly, referring to their guests, “haven’t they been told that it isn’t done to arrive so early in the day?”

“It would seem not.”

“Rather ostentatious, aren’t they,” Livia murmured, observing the gilded moldings and painted panels on the sides of the carriages.

Aline grinned. “When Americans spend their money, they like for it to show.”

They laughed and exchanged impish glances. This wasn’t the first time that their brother, Marcus, now Lord Westcliff, had hosted Americans at his renowned hunting and shooting parties. It seemed that in Hampshire, it was always the season for something… grouse in August, partridge in September, pheasant in October, rooks in spring and summer, and rabbits all year round. The traditional chase took place twice a week, with ladies occasionally riding to the hounds as well. All manner of business was conducted at these parties, which often lasted weeks and included influential political figures or rich professional men. During these visits, Marcus cleverly persuaded certain guests to side with him on one issue or another, or to agree to some business matter that would serve his interests.

The Americans who came to Stony Cross were usually nouveaux riches… their fortunes made from shipping and real estate, or factories that produced things like soap flakes or paper rolls. Aline had always found Americans rather engaging. She liked their high spirits, and she was touched by their eagerness to be accepted. Out of fear of seeming too modish, they wore clothes that were a season or two behind the current fashion. At dinner they were terribly anxious about whether they either had been seated below the salt or had been given the more prestigious locations near the host. And generally they were concerned about quality, making it clear that they preferred Sèvres china, Italian sculpture, French wine… and English peers. Americans were notoriously eager to make transatlantic marriages, using Yankee fortunes to catch impoverished British blue bloods. And no blood was more exalted than that of the Marsdens, who possessed one of the most ancient earldoms of the peerage.

Livia liked to joke about their pedigree, claiming that the renowned Marsden lineage could make even a black sheep like herself seem attractive to an ambitious American. “Since no decent Englishman would have me, perhaps I should marry one of those nice rich Yankees and sail with him across the Atlantic.”

Aline had smiled and hugged her tightly. “You wouldn’t dare,” she whispered into her sister’s hair. “I would miss you too much.”

“What a pair we are,” Livia responded with a rueful laugh. “You realize that we’ll both end up old and unwed, living together with a great horde of cats.”

“God save me,” Aline had said with a laughing groan.

Thinking back to that conversation, Aline slid an arm around her sister’s shoulders. “Well, dear,” she said lightly, “here is an opportunity for you to land an ambitious American with large pockets. Just what you were hoping for.”

Livia snorted. “I was joking about that, as you well know. Besides, how can you be certain that there are eligible gentlemen in the party?”

“Marcus told me a bit about the group last evening. Have you ever heard of the Shaws of New York? They’ve had money for three generations, which is
forever
in America. The head of the family is Mr. Gideon Shaw, who is unmarried — and apparently quite fine-looking.”

“Good for him,” Livia said. “However, I have no interest in husband hunting, no matter how attractive he may be.”

Aline tightened her arm protectively about Livia’s narrow shoulders. Since the death of her fiancé, Lord Amberley, Livia had vowed never to fall in love again. However, it was clear that Livia needed a family of her own. Her nature was too affectionate to be squandered on a life of spinsterhood. It was a measure of how deeply Livia had loved Amberley, that she still mourned him two years after his death. And yet surely Amberley, the most
kind-hearted of young men, would never have wanted Livia to spend the rest of her life alone.

“One never knows,” Aline said. “It’s possible that you will meet a man whom you will love as much as — if not more than — you did Lord Amberley.”

Livia’s shoulders stiffened. “Lord, I hope not. It hurts too much to love someone that way. You know that as well as I.”

“Yes,” Aline admitted, struggling to close away the memories that stirred behind an invisible door in her mind. Memories so incapacitating that she had to ignore them for the sake of her own sanity.

They stood together in silence, each understanding the other’s unspoken sorrows. How strange, Aline thought, that the younger sister she had always thought of as something of a nuisance would turn out to be her dearest friend and companion. Sighing, Aline turned toward one of the four towers that cornered the main body of the manor house. “Come,” she said briskly, “let’s go in through the servants’ entrance. I don’t wish to meet our guests while I’m dusty from our walk.”

“Neither do I.” Livia fell into step beside her. “Aline, don’t you ever tire of acting as hostess for Marcus’s guests?”

“No, I don’t mind it, actually. I like to entertain, and it’s always pleasant to hear the news from London.”

“Last week old Lord Torrington said that you have a way of making others feel more clever and interesting than they really are. He said that you are the most accomplished hostess he has ever known.”

“Did he? For those kind words, I will put extra brandy in his tea the next time he visits.” Smiling, Aline paused at the tower entrance and glanced over her shoulder at the entourage of guests and their servants, who milled in the courtyard as various trunks were carried this way and that. It seemed to be a boisterous group, this entourage of Mr. Gideon Shaw’s.

As Aline surveyed the courtyard, her gaze was drawn by a man who was taller than the rest, his height exceeding even that of the footmen. He was big and black-haired, with broad shoulders and a confident, masculine way of walking that was very nearly a strut. Like the other Americans, he was dressed in a suit that was well tailored but scrupulously conservative. He stopped to chat easily with another guest, his hard profile partially averted.

The sight of him made Aline feel uneasy, as if her usual self-possession had suddenly been stripped away. At this distance she could not see his features clearly, but she sensed his power. It was in his movements, the innate authority of his stance, the arrogant tilt of his head. No one could doubt that he was a man of consequence… perhaps he was Mr. Shaw?

Livia preceded her inside the house. “Are you coming, Aline?” she said over her shoulder.

“Yes, I…” Aline’s voice drifted into silence as she continued to stare at the distant figure, whose barely contained vitality made every other man in the vicinity seem pallid by comparison. Finishing his brief conversation, he strode toward the entrance of the manor. As he set foot on the first step, however, he stopped… as if someone had called out his name. His shoulders seemed to tauten beneath his black coat. Aline watched him, mesmerized by his sudden stillness. Slowly he turned and looked right at her. Her heart gave a hard, hurtful extra thump, and she retreated quickly into the tower before their gazes met.

“What is it?” Livia asked with a touch of concern. “You’re flushed all of a sudden.” She came forward and took Aline’s hand, tugging impatiently. “Come, we’ll bathe your face and wrists with cool water.”

“Oh, I’m perfectly all right,” Aline replied, but the pit of her stomach felt queer and fluttery. “It’s just that I saw a gentleman in the courtyard…”

“The black-haired one? Yes, I noticed him too. Why is it that Americans are always so tall? Perhaps it’s something in the climate — it makes them grow like weeds.”

“In that case, you and I should go for an extended stay,” Aline said with a smile, for both she and Livia were small of stature. Their brother, Marcus, was also no more than average in height, but his build was so muscular and bull-like that he posed a perilous physical threat to any man foolish enough to challenge him.

Chatting comfortably, the sisters made their way to their private apartments in the east wing. Aline knew that she would have to be quick about changing her gown and freshening her appearance, as the Americans’ early arrival had undoubtedly set the household in a commotion. The guests would want refreshments of some kind, but there was no time to prepare a full-blown breakfast. The Americans would have to be content with beverages until a midmorning “nuncheon” could be assembled.

Rapidly Aline went through a mental list of the contents of the pantry and larders. She decided they would set out crystal bowls of strawberries and raspberries, pots of butter and jam, along with bread and cake. Some asparagus salad and broiled bacon would also be nice, and Aline would also tell the housekeeper, Mrs. Faircloth, to serve the chilled lobster soufflé that had been intended as a supper course for later in the day. Something else could be substituted at dinner, perhaps some tiny salmon cutlets with egg sauce, or sweet-breads with celery stalks—

“Well,” Livia said prosaically, interrupting her speculations, “Have a pleasant day. I shall proceed to skulk about as usual.”

“There is no need for that,” Aline said with an instant frown.

Livia had virtually gone into hiding after the scandalous consequences of her tragic love affair with Lord Amberley. Although she was generally regarded with sympathy, Livia was still considered “ruined,” and therefore unfit company for those of delicate sensibilities. She was never invited to social events of any kind, and when a ball or soiree was held at Stony Cross Park, she stayed in her room to avoid the gathering. However, after two years of witnessing Livia’s social exile, Marcus and Aline had both agreed that enough was enough. Perhaps Livia could never regain the status she had enjoyed before her scandal, but the siblings were determined that she should not be forced to live the rest of her life as a recluse. They would gently wedge her back into the fringes of good society, and eventually find her a husband of suitable fortune and respectability.

“You’ve done your penance, Livia,” Aline said firmly. “Marcus says that anyone who does not wish to associate with you will simply have to leave the estate.”

“I don’t avoid people because I fear their disapproval,” Livia protested. “The truth is that I’m not ready to get back into the swim of things just yet.”

“You may not ever feel ready,” Aline countered. “Sooner or later you will simply have to jump back in.”

“Later, then.”

“But I remember how much you used to love to dance, and play parlor games, and sing at the piano—”

“Aline,” Livia interrupted gently, “I promise you, someday I will dance and play and sing again — but it will have to be at the time of my choosing, not yours.”

Aline relented with an apologetic smile. “I don’t mean to be overbearing. I just want you to be happy.”

Livia reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I wish, dearest, that you were as concerned for your own happiness as you are for everyone else’s.”

I am happy,
Aline wanted to reply, but the words stuck in her throat.

Sighing, Livia left her standing in the hall. “I will see you later this evening.”

Aline took hold of the painted porcelain doorknob, pushed into her bedroom, and tugged the bonnet from her head. The hair at the back of her neck was wet with perspiration. Pulling the crimped wire pins from her long chocolate-brown locks, she set them on her dressing table and picked up a silver-backed brush. She dragged it through her hair, relishing the soothing scratch of boar bristles on her scalp.

It had been an exceptionally warm August so far, and the county was swarming with fashionable families who would not be caught dead in London in the summer months. Marcus had said that Mr. Shaw and his business partner would be traveling back and forth between Hampshire and London, with the rest of their entourage remaining firmly entrenched at Stony Cross Park. It appeared that Mr. Shaw planned to establish a London office for his family’s new enterprises, as well as secure the all-important docking rights that would allow his ships to unload their cargo at the docklands.

Although the Shaw family was already wealthy from real estate and Wall Street speculation, they had recently launched into the fast-growing business of locomotive production. It seemed their ambition was not only to supply American railways with engines, coaches, and parts, but also to export their products to Europe. According to Marcus, Shaw would have no shortage of investors for his new enterprise — and Aline sensed that her brother was interested in becoming one of them. With that goal in mind, Aline intended to see that Mr. Shaw and his partner had an extremely enjoyable stay at Stony Cross.

Her mind filled with plans, Aline changed into a light summer frock of white cotton printed with lavender flowers. She did not ring for a maid to help her. Unlike other ladies of her situation, she dressed herself most of the time, requesting help only from Mrs. Faircloth when necessary. The housekeeper was the only person who was ever allowed to see Aline bathing or dressing, except for Livia.