Lord Deverill's Secret (12 page)

He regarded her thoughtfully.

“Not many people can swim under water,” he remarked.

“No, but my mother could, and she taught me. She grew up in Brighton, and she was used to the sea. She learnt to swim at an early age. Her parents both felt it was a healthful activity. My grandfather believed in the beneficial properties of sea water. In fact, he believed in them so much that he tried to make my mother drink it. Fortunately, my grandmother said that Dr. Russell might be a great man in some ways, and that he had done them all a great service by turning Brighton into a bathing resort, but that he was a fool for suggesting people drink sea water and that no child of hers was going to drink it!”

He laughed. “That isn’t the worst of it. Dr. Awsiter used to recommend that people drink it mixed with milk.”

“Ugh!” said Cassandra. “I can think of nothing worse. Fortunately my mother was as sensible as my grandmother, and although she taught Rupert, Lizzie and me to swim, she never made us drink the sea.”

“She must have been an unusual lady,” said Justin.

“She was.” Cassandra smiled as she thought of her mother. “She was advanced in her thinking. She made sure we spent our summers in Brighton so that we could benefit from the sea air, and in the autumn we returned to the estate. She made it seem so easy to organize everything. It wasn’t until she died that I realized how difficult it was. She was always singing and cheerful.”

She became quiet. He seemed to understand something of what she was thinking, because he said, “It must have been a blow to you when she died.”

“Yes.” She sighed. “It was. We had no warning of it, you see. She and my father went to London to visit friends. She worried about leaving us behind, but Lizzie was recovering from chicken pox and was too ill to travel and Rupert did not want to go. I was content to stay at home to amuse Lizzie, and so at last she was persuaded to go. We had Moll and John to look after us, as well as a houseful of servants at that time. My mother wrote to us every day. Her letters were cheerful, full of the interesting things she and my father were seeing and doing. Then there was an outbreak of cholera. They were both taken ill, and though their friends nursed them faithfully, they never recovered.”

He spoke quietly. “It isn’t easy to lose your parents, especially not so young.”

There was something in his tone of voice that touched her.

“You sound as though you speak from experience,” she said, turning towards him. She saw that his expression had softened. The harsh lines had gone from around his mouth, and his eyes were opaque.

“I do,” he said simply. “I, too, lost my parents young, although they did not both die at the same time. My mother died just before I came of age, and my father died a few years later. My mother’s death was caused by an old complaint; and my father never recovered from her death. He lost his interest in life and very soon followed her to the grave. I became the guardian of my sister. She was only fourteen at the time. I had an aunt who helped me to give her a season and she married a good man. She is happy now, but it was difficult for her at the time.”

“Then we have something in common. My sister, Lizzie, is ten years old. I have tried to be a mother and father to her, but it is not easy.”

“It isn’t,” he said. “You told me she is staying with a friend?”

“Yes, in Hertfordshire.” Cassandra smiled. “I had a letter from her yesterday. She’s riding and swimming in the river and generally behaving like a hoyden!”

“Has she been to Brighton?”

“Yes. We used to spend the summer here regularly when my parents were alive.”

“And now you intend to do so again.”

“It would be lovely, but no. I have to try and sell the house. I must do what I can to repair our family’s fortunes.”

She fell silent, remembering that he, too, must repair his family fortune. A chill breeze blew under the flap of the tent and she drew her shawl more tightly about her. He would marry an heiress. She would sell the town house. And they would never see each other again.

Around them, the others talked.

“I thought my horse was going to win!” she heard Maria saying. “It was doing so well, but after the bend it could not keep up. Even so, I hoped it would make a last minute recovery, but it was mortifying to watch it come in last!” She turned to Cassandra. “I forgot to follow your horse in all the excitement, Cassandra. Did it do well?”

“No. It did very badly. It limped in just before yours,” she remarked wryly.

“Didn’t have the stamina,” said Freddy. “Seen it run before. Mind you, didn’t do so well myself. Came in fifth. Dashed queer things, horses. Never know what’s going to happen next.”

They finished their refreshments.

“I think we should be going,” said Maria.

She, Cassandra and Harry took their leave of Justin, whilst Freddy remained behind, talking to Mr. Goddard about the race. As they left the tent, Cassandra felt Justin’s eyes on her.

“That was most enjoyable,” said Maria, as they emerged on to the Down. “I know Lord Deverill is an attractive man, but he has no fortune,” she went on. “He is useful to make you appear sought after, but don’t forget that Lord Armington would be a much better husband.”

“Lord Deverill has no intention of proposing to me,” said Cassandra.

“Oh, good,” said Maria.

Cassandra found, to her surprise, that she did not agree. Choosing not to dwell on the unsettling thought, she said, “Will you help me choose some ribbon?” A major purchase was beyond her, but a small purchase was not. “I want to buy some to trim my new bonnet, and I don’t know which colour to choose.”

“Of course I will.”

The subject of Justin was dropped. The sun was hot, shining down from a clear blue sky. Maria unfurled her parasol and Cassandra went to unfurl hers, only to realize she had left it in the refreshment tent.

“I’ve forgotten my parasol. I will not be long,” she promised Maria. “I will meet you by the ribbon stall.”

“Harry will go with you.”

“It’s all right. I will only be a minute.”

She returned to the refreshment tent. As she approached her table she saw that Freddy and Mr. Goddard had gone, but that Justin was still there. He was sitting with his back to her, and next to him was another gentleman. She recognized him as Matthew Standish, the young man who had burst into the room when she had visited Justin’s house on her first morning in Brighton. Her eyes drifted over him to her parasol. She was about to move forward and take it, when she heard Matthew say, “You’ve got to tell her. If she’s in danger, she needs to know about it. You can’t keep this to yourself.”

“No. I can’t warn her without telling her everything, and I’m not prepared to do that. I don’t want to destroy her peace of mind.”

“But if she’s had two accidents already, one whilst swimming and one—”

“I can protect her from those.”

Cassandra felt a sinking sensation as she realized they were talking about her. Two accidents. A near drowning and a near trampling to death. But what was that Justin had said? That he could protect her? Was that the explanation for his attention to her? Was that why she came across him so often? For some reason, she felt her spirits sinking. She had begun to think it was something more. Her mind flew back to the moment he had kissed her. That had not been prompted by a desire to protect her, at least, and it warmed her to know it.

But Matthew was speaking again.

“No, you can’t, Justin. She had one of them whilst swimming, and gentlemen aren’t allowed to bathe with the ladies.”

“I’ve already taken care of that; I’ve set a woman to watch her.”

“It isn’t enough. You can’t let her go through this blind. You have to tell her.”

Cassandra felt anxious, but she had to know the truth. “Tell me what?” she demanded.

Justin turned round and his face darkened when he saw her.

“Cassandra, what are you doing here?”

“I forgot my parasol.”

She saw him glance round, then his eyes stopped as they fell on her parasol, leaning innocently against one of the benches.

“What do you have to tell me?” she demanded.

“You’ll have to tell her now,” said Matthew.

But before Justin could reply, a determined voice broke in on him. “Why, if it isn’t Lord Deverill! How wonderful to find you here.”

Looking round, Cassandra saw Mrs. and Miss Kerrith bearing down on them.

“I was just saying to Eustacie that I thought I’d glimpsed you earlier,” went on Mrs. Kerrith. She glowered at Cassandra as she drew level with the table, then turned smilingly to Lord Deverill. “I hope you had better luck with the horses than we did. I do declare, we have had the most dreadful luck. Eustacie’s horse refused to run, and mine fell at the first bend.

“Mrs. Kerrith, Miss Kerrith,” said Justin, rising and greeting them politely, though to Cassandra it seemed he did so through gritted teeth.

“We were just saying how much we would like some lemonade,” said Mrs. Kerrith pointedly. “It is so hot today. Poor Eustacie is quite overcome. But then she is such a delicate flower.”

Miss Kerrith looked towards Justin with a wilting air.

His face set in a polite smile. “Then you must allow me to procure it for you. Miss Paxton was just leaving.”

Miss Kerrith and her mother gave a satisfied smirk. Cassandra was bitterly disappointed—until Justin handed her her parasol and guided her towards the exit, giving them a few moments alone together.

“I am not leaving the tent until I know what you mean,” said Cassandra.

“We can’t talk here,” he said. “I’m giving a picnic tomorrow, at a scenic spot on the beach. Will you join me? Your friend and her husband are welcome, of course. I will explain everything then.”

“I need to know now,” said Cassandra.

“Lord Deverill!” called Mrs. Kerrith.

He cursed under his breath. “It’s impossible,” he said, looking into her eyes. “But I will tell you everything tomorrow. You have my word. I will direct the carriages past your house at eleven o’clock. Be ready to join us.”

“Very well,” said Cassandra. “We will be there.” She hesitated, and then asked, “Am I in danger?”

He took her hand reassuringly.

“Don’t worry. There will be people watching you at all times, and no harm will come to you.”

She looked into his eyes. “But I am in danger?” she pressed.

He stroked his long, strong fingers across her palm, and she swallowed.

“It’s possible,” he said.

“Oh, Lord Deverill!” carolled Mrs. Kerrith.

“I must go,” he said.

Cassandra nodded.

Then, leaving her, he went back to the Kerriths.

Cassandra walked slowly back to Maria and Harry.

“You found it? Oh, good,” said Maria. “The sun is very strong, and it wouldn’t do to get freckles. Was Lord Deverill still there?”

Cassandra nodded. “Yes, he was. He has asked us to join him for a picnic tomorrow,” she said.

“Oh, good. All the best people go to his picnics. Lord Armington is bound to be there. Now, where were the ribbons you wanted to look at?” asked Maria.

Cassandra roused herself from her thoughts then led the way to a stall displaying fans, stockings, gloves and ribbons. She showed two of the ribbons to Maria.

“Which do you think will go best with my new bonnet, the dark pink or the rose?” she asked.

“The dark pink,” said Maria consideringly. “The rose is too insipid.”

As Cassandra paid for the ribbon, she found her thoughts straying. Why was she in danger? From whom? And what did Justin have to do with it?

The thoughts haunted her as she returned to the carriage with Maria and Harry. All around, people were enjoying themselves, but for her the world had taken on a darker hue. The hurdy gurdy now sounded tinny and the young ladies who flirted with officers seemed immoral. The pleasure had gone out of her day.

She climbed into the carriage behind Maria, then Harry followed her. The step was folded up and the carriage rolled away.

They left Whitehawk Down behind and bowled down into town.

“I believe I could acquire a taste for the races,” said Maria.

“My dear wife, you would ruin us within a month,” said Harry.

“Perhaps you are right. I will not bet the next time we go, but will content myself with watching instead.”

Listening to their banter, Cassandra wished she could join in, but she could think of nothing but what she would learn on the following day.

CHAPTER SEVEN

Cassandra’s thoughts were perturbed as she dressed for the picnic the following morning.

“A picnic?” snorted Moll. “Just you make sure you sit on a blanket, Miss Cassie. I don’t hold with this sitting on the grass—it’ll be damp, I shouldn’t wonder—”

“You needn’t worry about that. The picnic is to take place on the beach,” Cassandra said.

“Nasty wet places, beaches,” said Moll. “You’ll catch your death of cold for sure. All this eating out of doors. Why can’t people eat inside like sensible bodies? You make sure you wear your shawl, and keep your gloves on. And mind you don’t get your feet wet. You’ll get your death from wet feet.”

“I’ll keep them dry,” Cassandra promised her.

“And make sure Miss Maria doesn’t neither. She was looking tired yesterday. I hope Mr. Harry’s taking care of her.”

“He is,” said Cassandra.

Having grumbled herself out, Moll disappeared to find Cassandra a handkerchief, for if her mistress departed without one then the heavens would surely fall. Cassandra wandered over to the window. As she did so, she saw a footman loitering in the street. The sight would not have interested her the day before but now, knowing that Justin had set a watch on her, she wondered if he was really a footman or if he was a guard in disguise. She felt a chill, and pulled her shawl more tightly about her.

“Don’t say as I didn’t warn you,” said Moll gloomily, as she reentered the room. “You’ve taken cold. I knew how it would be. Swimming in your chemise, walking along the Downs, mixing with all the rabble at the races…”

Cassandra took the handkerchief Moll held out to her and thanked her for it, just as Maria’s carriage rolled up. No sooner had it done so than a smart party of carriages arrived behind it. Cassandra put on her bonnet, picked up her parasol and then went outside. She took her place with Maria and Harry, and the group was soon on its way.