Pride of the Courtneys (4 page)

I reached the river. Enchanted, I sat down on the bank and contentedly watched the water flow by placidly.

I must have remained there day-dreaming for a long time. For when I eventually shook myself and realised I ought to return to the house, the sun was high and warm on my back.

There was no doubt, I told myself, as I returned unwillingly to the Hall, in the coming days and weeks my happiest moments would be like this morning, spent on my own, alone with nature's peace.

As I climbed the stairs to go to my room, I heard the study door open and Bassett appeared.

‘Louella,' his deep voice rang through the hall.

I turned, startled.

‘Come down a moment.' His tone gave no intimation of the reason for his command. I wondered what reproof awaited me.

I went down quickly and stood meekly before him, not daring to look into his eyes.

Suddenly he raised his hand and cupped his strong fingers under my chin and raised my face to look at him.

‘Don't look so frightened, Louella. I only want to ask you to come riding with me. I should like to show you round the estate and the moors. I have some spare time this afternoon.'

He paused, and I was surprised to hear the eagerness in his voice.

‘Be ready as soon after luncheon as you can. Wear something warm, the air is sharp today.'

There again was his concern for my well-being, but I merely stammered assent.

‘Bassett,' the sharp voice rang above us.

We both looked up. Lady Courtney stood at the top of the stairs. She must have heard us, I thought wildly, been watching us. Can she never leave me alone?

‘Don't forget your cousin Millicent is coming this afternoon to stay for a few days. You should be here to greet her, you know.'

‘We shall be back in time for tea, mother. Millicent should not arrive before that time.'

And without another word, he disappeared into his study.

There was no such escape for me.

I waited nervously whilst Lady Courtney came slowly down the wide stairs, her steps soundless on the carpet. She stepped close to me and pushed her wrinkled, sour face near to mine.

‘What are you trying to do, Louella Lloyd,' she hissed, ‘break another Courtney household, just like your mother before you?'

And with that she moved towards the drawing-room, her wide skirts sweeping angrily across the floor.

My heart beat painfully. Never before in my life had I come face to face with such obvious hatred. I ran upstairs to my room, and as I looked in the mirror I saw my face was pale, my eyes dark and fearful. I sat down and tried to calm myself. But the mood of depression would not leave me. I kept seeing Lady Courtney's angry face and hearing those awful words.

‘… break another Courtney household, just like your mother.'

Whatever did it mean? What had my mother to do with the Courtneys, apart from being Uncle James' sister-in-law?

I was almost afraid to go down for luncheon, but I must of course.

The whole family were there, but this time, no guests. Lady Courtney was still smarting from her angry outburst, but her anger was now coldly sarcastic, which she made plain by criticising my clothes.

‘I can see, Louella, we shall have to acquire you some different gowns. That one lacks taste, to say the least.'

Immediately, I felt Bassett's eyes upon me. His face was expressionless and he made no comment, but I was sure his mother had succeeded in making me appear small in his eyes, which now I was convinced was her only desire.

I was pleased to escape immediately after the meal and because, for some reason I could not understand myself, I wanted nothing to prevent my afternoon with Bassett, I changed into my riding habit, left the house quickly and somehow found my way to the stables to wait for Bassett.

I did not have long to wait, and I watched him approach from a distance before he saw me.

He looked a worried man, and I felt sorry for him, for, although I feared him, to have the responsibility of a great estate like this on his young shoulders, it must indeed be very worrying at times.

When he saw me, he smiled, and as he reached me, he said:

‘That's one outfit I don't think dear mama will have to change. It becomes you admirably, madam,' and he gave a mock bow of courtesy.

I blushed for I thought he was laughing at me, and automatically my chin went higher.

‘I am perfectly satisfied with the contents of my wardrobe,' I replied stiffly, ‘they have always sufficed, and I see no reason to waste money on me.'

Bassett's eyes grew stern and suddenly I was afraid. Had I said too much and angered him.

‘It would not be a waste of money spent on you, Louella, I assure you.'

The compliment, if it was one, was lost by his angry tone, and again I was annoyed that he should be considering providing my clothing, but I held my tongue—already I had spoilt what could have been a pleasant afternoon.

But no, suddenly Bassett smiled, took me by the arm and led me towards the stables.

‘Come, Louella, let us not argue on such a beautiful afternoon. Forget our differences and let's enjoy ourselves.'

I was eager to do so and smiled warmly, the incident forgotten—for the moment.

We cantered steadily over the moors, Bassett matching his pace to mine, being slower than his usual I imagined.

‘We'll let the horses rest at the stream.' His words came bouncing over the breeze to me. I merely nodded, I had not the strength of voice to reply.

We reined in and Bassett dismounted, and came to lift me down. I slid from the saddle into his arms.

For a brief moment he held me and as I looked up into his frowning face, I was at a loss to understand his expression. One of mingled anger and sorrow, was it? I could not be sure.

He released me and turned away.

‘Come Louella, we'll walk to the rise whilst the horses drink.'

Meekly, I followed Bassett's long strides and soon we stood, breathless, at the top of the hill, gazing on the countryside around us.

Green fields patterned with hedges and copses rolled away to the blue hills in the far distance. The sun sparkled on the rich grass and the water of the stream, which widened into the river and then the lake before Courtney Hall, rippled and sang happily.

A sigh of sheer happiness and contentment escaped my lips. It was not often I felt so completely at ease or happy with the world.

The silence between us deepened, but it was not an uncomfortable one, although we hardly knew each other. How little I knew of this man, I thought. I believed I knew or understood the other inmates of the house, even though I had known them such a short time. But of this man, all I knew had been gained from other people's voiced opinions of him.

We returned from the hillside and remounted. Downhill we rode over the fields, through wooded slopes, down to the river.

The water lazily rolled its way from the hills above us down to Courtney village and away to the sea. It seemed peaceful and harmless enough so that I was surprised and almost disbelieving when Bassett said:

‘I am afraid we are expecting trouble next winter.' His eyes wrinkled against the sun as he scanned the village and fields beneath us in the valley.

‘Trouble? What sort of trouble?' I asked.

Somehow, out here, just the two of us, I did not feel so afraid of him. My dislike of Bassett seemed to diminish in the warm sunlight.

‘The old men of the village say there will be heavy snowfalls and a danger of the river flooding when it melts.'

‘The poor villagers!' I cried.

Bassett glanced at me swiftly. I could not understand the fleeting expression of surprise and pleasure on his face. But it was gone in a moment as he said:

‘Not that I believe in all this forecasting the weather, but these old men, living all their lives in the country, have an uncanny knack of being able to foretell such disasters. I've known it before.'

Bassett paused as our horses forded a narrow stream. He guided my horse up the steep slope at the other side.

‘Fifteen years ago, old Hawkins, he's dead now, said there would be a drought. Most people in the village, the young men that is, laughed at him and took no heed. He came to the Hall one day and pleaded with my father to take all possible precautions against the drought, to store as much water as he could. My father, always ready to listen to advice, did what Hawkins said.'

Bassett paused.

‘What happened?' I looked towards him impatiently.

‘The drought came. The villagers lost their crops. The Courtneys did not. They made even more money to add to the ever-increasing pile.'

‘You sound bitter. Don't you like to be wealthy, Bassett?'

‘It does not bring happiness, little Louella,' Bassett said gently. ‘I would give all my Courtney wealth if I could be sure I would find happiness.'

I was astonished that Bassett, a man who seemed above all emotion, should open his heart to me. He must, I thought, feel the atmosphere of tension at Courtney Hall as I do. I did not mention his own family, however. I thought it wiser not to do so.

‘Uncle James and Aunt Virginia were always poor, but very happy.'

The familiar lump rose to my throat as I thought of the happy days I had known with them, and the ache of loneliness swept over me.

‘Uncle James was wise, he put happiness before wealth. My father was weak-willed. He would have been happy if …'

But Bassett said no more, for at that moment, a carriage came into view on the road a short distance from us.

‘Millicent Bassett,' he murmured. ‘Wait here, Louella. I had better greet her.'

And he cantered away to where the carriage was already slowing down.

I was disappointed he had been interrupted. Perhaps what he had been going to say would have helped solve this mystery which seemed to surround the Courtneys and me.

I watched as Bassett stopped before the carriage. The face of a young woman appeared at the window. Although I was too far away to see clearly, I had the impression that Millicent Bassett was far from plain, and was dressed grandly. I saw Bassett take the slim gloved hand through the window and caught the sound of gay, girlish laughter as Millicent greeted her cousin.

Millicent looked up, and over the sunlit grass our eyes met. Bassett turned and beckoned me.

With a sinking heart, I turned my horse towards them. I had not been mistaken. Millicent was very attractive and to me her appearance was far superior to my own.

I smiled uncertainly as Millicent's eyes took in every detail of my appearance. Immediately, I felt dishevelled. But Millicent's voice belied her looks, it was the whining voice of a discontented, spoilt child.

‘How do you do, Miss Lloyd? I am pleased to make your acquaintance. I believe the Courtneys have been kind enough to give you a home—for the moment.'

I saw the look of veiled dislike in Millicent's cold, blue eyes.

She hates me, I thought, and we have only just met.

Then my pride came to my rescue, and a spark of anger made me reply coldly.

‘Yes, Miss Bassett. I shall never be able to repay them for their kindness. I trust you have had a good journey?'

I saw the flash of anger in Millicent's eyes. She had wanted me to cringe and stammer. I had won the first point in what was evidently going to be a battle.

‘Thank you, Miss Lloyd, I have.'

‘We must finish our ride, Louella. We'll see you later, Millicent.'

Millicent turned her eyes towards Bassett and a flirtatious smile lit her face.

‘
Au revoir
, Bassett,' and playfully she kissed her hand to him.

The carriage drew away and Bassett and I turned our horses towards the river bank again.

But the afternoon was spoilt for me. I could not recapture the feeling of companionship with Bassett which I had felt growing between us before Millicent had arrived. It was as if the wall of misunderstanding was built up between us again.

And I did not realise then that these few hours in Bassett's company were to be the closest to happiness that I was to feel for several months.

When we returned, we entered the house together. Lady Courtney met us and though no doubt she was displeased to see us together, she had more urgent matters on her mind.

I left them and began to climb the stairs but I could not help overhearing their conversation.

‘Mrs Smith has been to the Hall this afternoon. She is most distressed because you have dismissed her son from your employ. May I be permitted to ask why, Bassett?'

‘Certainly, mother. The boy was found to be a petty thief. You know I cannot abide dishonesty in any form. And there's an end to it.'

‘But the boy is only fourteen and it was only a few eggs he took, Bassett. Mrs Smith begged for a second chance for him.'

‘The younger he learns right from wrong the better. I shall not ruin his chances of employment elsewhere, but he is dismissed from Courtney estate.'

And with that he left his mother.

In those few moments, I discovered two things. Firstly, there was no mercy in Bassett Courtney. Secondly, there was thought for others in Lady Courtney—except for me.

The weeks passed at Courtney Hall, Millicent's stay of three or four days lengthened into weeks and months. Lady Courtney had obviously found a staunch ally in Millicent in her dislike of me. They lost no opportunity of reminding me of my position, nor of trying to goad me into losing my temper.

Being red-haired with a fiery temper, I found the natural retorts hard to restrain and often I went to bed at night, feeling physically and mentally exhausted with battling against my inner emotions, whilst trying to assume an uncaring expression.

I avoided their company as much as possible, and when I was not with Georgiana, I preferred my own company to that of Lady Courtney or Millicent. I hardly saw Sir Hugh and Bassett was occupied a great deal with the running of the estate. His spare time was taken up by Millicent as often as she and Lady Courtney could contrive it. For it was not only Lady Courtney's dearest wish that Bassett should marry Millicent, her brother's daughter, but also the only thing for which Millicent lived and designed.