A Second Spring (2 page)

She looked up from the smock she was embroidering for Daphne. “How well that gown becomes you, Letty. Sir Gideon will quite forget his last view of you. I am sadly flustered, I declare, to be entertaining gentlemen again. Other than the vicar, few have called since we came to the Dower House.”

“You flustered, Mama? Fustian!” She glanced about the room, bright with flowered chintzes and gleaming wood. Surely Mr Talgarth would find nothing here to criticise. Not that his gaze had been precisely critical when she emerged from the waters like a naiad, but unlike Sir Gideon, he had not been smiling. Too far off to read the expression in his eyes, she only knew that something in his look had made her blush.

Her mother’s voice was a welcome distraction. “The kettle is on the hob and Sarah has been baking.”

“I see you have set out the madeira.”

“Gentlemen often prefer wine. You recall your papa’s opinion of tea-drinking in the afternoon.”

“Chatter-broth!”

They both laughed.

Daphne came in, still reasonably clean, followed by Donald, equally angelic in his blue skeleton suit and short jacket. On their best behaviour, they settled into “their” corner, furnished with two footstools and a shelf of children’s books. A moment later the door knocker sounded. Letty discovered she was bracing herself and forced herself to relax.

“Sir Gideon March and Mr Talgarth, my lady,” Lois announced.

As Sir Gideon bowed over her mother’s hand, Letty met Mr Talgarth’s eyes. Now his regard was warm, appreciative, even admiring. Disconcerted, she hastily turned away to greet Sir Gideon.

After the usual polite exchanges, Mr Talgarth said to Letty with a sympathetic smile, “Unless appearances deceive, you have quite recovered from your wetting, Mrs Rosebay. The children have taken no ill?”

“They positively enjoyed the experience, sir.” Eager for him to see the twins for once looking well-bred and tidy, she gestured towards them. He nodded and went to speak to them in their corner. Watching, Letty saw them pointing out to him something in their book. He responded seriously, then glanced up and smiled at her again.

There was something curiously disturbing in Mr Talgarth’s smile. Letty managed an uncertain smile in return. Then Donald asked him another question, and with relief she gave her attention to her mother and Sir Gideon.

* * * *

“In view of the circumstances,” the baronet was saying soberly, “you will excuse my belated expression of my condolences on your late loss. I greatly regret that I never knew Sir Jeremy.”

“We miss him.” Catriona blinked away the mist that suddenly obscured her vision. “How foolish it is to let family ties lapse. I know your relationship to my husband, but little else. You have been in Canada, I collect?”

“For a year or two. Before that, we were for some time in India.”

“You had no home in England?” Letty asked. Catriona was pleased by her interest in his history.

“My father was a doctor, Mrs Rosebay, and while he did not leave me penniless, he owned neither house nor land. I had always longed to see the world, so I joined the Navy when I left school.”

Letty glanced at Mr Talgarth. “And your cousin?”

“My mother’s nephew. Harry’s parents died when he was a small child, and my parents brought him up. He happened to leave school just when I was feeling the tedium of blockading France’s Channel ports, so I left the Navy and we have been adventuring together. China, India, Canada, South America, even to Russia. You might call us the proverbial rolling stones.”

A little dismayed by his unsettled life, Catriona said, “You had no notion you were heir to Marchbank?”

“None. My grandfather was a third or fourth son, I believe. I still sometimes wake up and pinch myself to see if I’m dreaming that I’m a baronet.”

As Catriona and Letty laughed, Lois carried in the tea tray and set it on the small table by the window. Letty went to pour, reaching the table three seconds before the twins.

“Not a nibble,” she said severely, “until you have passed the cups and handed round the plates. Sir Gideon, will you take tea or do you prefer madeira?”

“A drop of madeira will do me, thank you.”

“Shall I pour the wine, ma’am?” offered Mr Talgarth, who had followed the children. “I’ll drink tea, though.”

Donald brought a glass of madeira for Sir Gideon, and Daphne, concentrating hard on the cup and saucer in her hands, brought Catriona’s tea without spilling a drop. They returned with plates of jam tarts and almond cakes. Sir Gideon took one of each.

“I’ve sampled many interesting foods on my travels,” he said, “but there is nothing to beat English pastries warm from the oven. And that reminds me, Lady Catriona. I’m hoping to obtain some information from you. The manor is in excellent condition–the lawyer tells me you have been keeping an eye on it? I am most grateful. Indeed, I was dismayed to hear that you had removed so promptly to the Dower House. There was no need—”

“It seemed advisable. We knew nothing of your disposition.”

“True. I might have been the sort of villain who evicts grieving women and children from their homes.”

Catriona shook her head at him in mock reproach. “Well, you might! In any case, we are perfectly comfortable here. Jeremy had the house set in order, expecting that… expecting…” Her throat tightened, blocking the words.

He came to her rescue. “A wise precaution, and it’s a charming house. However, I trust you will continue to make use of the Marchbank park and gardens as if they were your own.”

“You are very kind, Sir Gideon. To tell the truth, I doubt we could keep the children away if we tried,” she added candidly. “But we have wandered from the point. What is it you wish to consult me about?”

“I want your advice about hiring servants. Though the present staff has kept the place well, now that we are in residence, they are too few if they are not to be grossly overworked. For a start, I need a cook, preferably one who has as light a hand with pastry as yours.”

“You cannot have Sarah, but do have another jam tart. Daphne, pray– Oh,
twins!
”

Unseen by their grandmother, and by their mother, who sipped her tea with bowed head, listening to Mr Talgarth, the children had taken the entire plate of pastries to their corner. The last crumb disappeared as Catriona spoke, and they looked up with jammy beams. Sir Gideon grinned.

“We’ve been ever so quiet,” said Daphne with an air of conscious rectitude.

“We don’t like almond cakes,” Donald explained.

“It’s all right, Grandmama. Sarah made loads of jam tarts.”

“We’ll get you some more.”

“How could you!” Letty sprang to her feet, far more agitated than their minor naughtiness warranted.

Surprised, Cariona said calmly, “Pray ask Lois to bring more tarts, children. Wash your faces—I expect your fingers need it, too—and go and play in the garden.”

Subdued by their mother’s unexpected outburst, Daphne said, “Yes, Grandmama.”

As Letty subsided into her chair, Donald ran to her, flung his arms round her, and kissed her. “We’re sorry, Mama. We didn’t mean to vex you.”

They dashed from the room. Mr Talgarth took a handerchief from his pocket and gravely handed it to Letty. Her face almost as red as the jam, she scrubbed the sticky smear from her cheek.

Once more the poor girl had been put to the blush before Harry Talgarth. If he had seemed amused, as Sir Gideon was, she could have laughed it off instead of being horridly embarrassed. Catriona decided it was time to end their tête-à-tête.

“Letty you know the village people as well as I do. Come and help me advise Sir Gideon as to what servants can be hired locally and which he must advertise for.”

Mr Talgarth produced a notebook and pencil and wrote down names as they talked. When at last they had discussed all available positions, Sir Gideon thanked his advisers.

“I am glad you intend to take on so many,” said Catriona. “I hated having to let them go when we left the manor. Am I right in supposing this means you are going to settle at Marchbank?”

“We are. We have seen a good part of the world, and now it’s time to settle down and tend my acres. To begin with, would you object if I had a new jetty built and obtained a boat that will actually float?”

“Object? Good heavens, why should I object?”

He turned to Letty with a smile. “I was thinking of your enterprising offspring, Mrs Rosebay. I fear a seaworthy vessel might prove an irresistible temptation to a couple of pirates.”

“Then I had best teach them to swim,” Mr Talgarth unexpectedly proposed in a practical tone.

Letty stared in astonishment. “Teach them? Both of them? But they are so full of mischief!”

“That’s why they need to learn,” he pointed out, “and the sooner the better, while the water is warm enough. They are good-natured and loving despite their mischief. I have no qualms if you have not, ma’am.”

“An excellent suggestion,” said Catriona, since Letty still looked stunned.

“You’d best start tomorrow, Harry, if the weather holds.” Sir Gideon stood up to take his leave, and a few minutes later the gentlemen were gone.

Letty started to collect cups and plates. “I cannot believe it,” she said, stopping dead with the wineglass in her hand. “I was convinced that he had taken the twins in dislike and held me to blame for their naughtiness.”

“I could ssee you were ill at ease with Mr Talgarth.” Catriona brushed some crumbs off the table into her hand and deposited them on the tray. “However, since it sounds as if he is to make his home at Marchbank with Sir Gideon, you must strive to overcome your dislike.”

“I don’t precisely dislike him, Mama. How can I, when he has so kindly offered to teach Donald and Daphne to swim? He just…makes me uneasy.”

“It is a pity that he did not turn it to a joke when Donald bedaubed your cheek with jam.”

“Oh no,” Letty exclaimed with fervour, “that would have been worse than anything!”

“Then it seems the poor fellow can do nothing right,” said Catriona, smiling. “How fortunate that Sir Gideon is so charming.”

“Indeed he is most agreeable.”

With this temperate praise Catriona contened herself. Letty must have time to get to know Sir Gideon before marriage was to be thought of—always supposing that the baronet was in the market for a wife.

* * * *

As twin red-headed sea serpents splashed towards the new skiff, Sir Gideon shipped his oars. “They have learned to swim amazingly fast,” he said.

“They are clever children,” said Catriona with a proper pride in her grandchildren, “and they have an excellent teacher.”

“It is good of Mr Talgarth to go to so much trouble.” Letty dabbled her hand in the water. “Daphne told me they always do exactly what he says because otherwise either they swallow water or he threatens to stop teaching them.”

“Daphne, Donald, that’s far enough,” came Harry Talgarth’s incisive voice. The twins turned at once and paddled back towards the bank. “Mrs Rosebay,” he called, “we’ll be getting out now. The water is not as warm as it was.”

“I shall come and fetch them,” Letty called back, averting her gaze from the wet-shirted figure.

Catriona smiled and waved at him. At the advanced age of forty-two, she was, she felt, exempt from the demands of bashful modesty. She had only come out in the boat to chaperon her daughter. Not that she thought for a moment that Sir Gideon would take advantage of being alone with Letty; he was by far too gentlemanly.

With long, lazy, powerful strokes, he rowed towards the new jetty. Beneath the blue Bath superfine of his coat, his muscles flexed, driving the boat smoothly through the water without haste or wasted motion.

The way he rowed was typical of him, Catriona decided. Always tranquil, unhurried, good-humoured, he had already restaffed the manor and taken the reins of the estate management into his capable hands. Hilton, the bailiff, had dropped in to see her at the Dower House the other day. Sir Gideon, he reported was a fair man who realised his own ignorance but knew what he wanted.

“And among other things, my lady, that’s a new roof for Ben Welter’s farmhouse,” he had said with satisfaction. “Them lawyers wouldn’t let me spend the blunt, but Sir Gideon dubbed up wi’out a murmur.”

He was generous to his dependents, amused by the children’s antics, as vigorous as a man half his age—What more could Letty want? She was comfortable with him, making a laughing reference to the demolition of the old jetty as he handed her out of the boat onto the new.

Over the past month, he and his cousin had called at the Dower House nearly every day, or they had met in the park or gardens. Surely kindness alone was not enough to explain such assiduous attentions. Sir Gideon must be attracted to Letty. Several times in the last few days, Catriona had almost spoken to her daughter about the possibility of a second marriage.

Yet she had hesitated. The Dower House would be sadly empty without Letty and the twins, to be sure. The manor was no more than half a mile off, though. They could see each other daily. So why did her heart ache at the prospect?

“Shall we go round the lake again, Lady Catriona?” Sir Gideon smiled down at her.

“I beg your pardon, I was woolgathering! The boat is excessively comfortable, but no, thank you. I ought to be getting home, and I must not keep you.” Cautiously she stood up. He took her hand, steadying her as the boat rocked a trifle.

“Careful now. The sun is warm, but the water is colder than when Mrs Rosebay and I took our ducking.”

With one foot on the jetty, Catriona realised that Letty had already left. “Oh, where is she?” she cried. “My stupid heedlessness has prevented your walking with her.”

In her dismay, she tried to step up too hastily and lost her balance. Instantly Sir Gideon’s arm was about her waist, lifting her as though she weighed no more than a child. She fell against him, or he caught her to him—what did it matter which? She was clasped to his chest, his mouth mere tantalising inches from her own. Gold flecks danced in his brown eyes. Her pulse racing, she moistened suddenly dry lips as a flood of heat washed through her.

Her face was aflame. She pulled back out of his arms, stepped back, turned away, fleeing danger. But the danger was in herself, not in him. She dared not look at him lest he read the desire in her eyes. It was indecent for a respectable widow of her years to feel that way.