Alissa Baxter (3 page)

Alexandra contemplated giving him an evasive answer, but Mr Chanderly’s expression was so surprisingly sympathetic that she decided to tell him at least part of the reason why she was reluctant to leave her home. “I am loath to leave my brother behind while I go gallivanting off to London, Mr Chanderly. We have been constant companions and friends all our lives, and since our father’s demise the bond has grown stronger. As a child he was an invalid and mostly bedridden and consequently he does not have many friends. If I go, I am afraid that he will be desperately lonely and I...” She left the sentence unfinished.

“You do not have the heart to leave him,” he said. “Your sentiments do you credit Miss Grantham, but you must also think to your own future. I am sure your brother will not wish to stand in the way of your going to London, and finding an eligible husband...”

Alexandra threw a decidedly disdainful glance in his direction. “Sir, it is not the intention of every unmarried female to saddle herself with a husband. I have a considerable independence left me by my father, and have absolutely no intention of getting married, now, or ever for that matter!”

Mr Chanderly looked at the young beauty riding alongside him with a sceptical expression on his face. He knew very well that although she may have no intention of entering the Marriage Mart, once she hit the London scene, she would be actively pursued by every buck and dandy in town, and be positively inundated by offers of marriage. Because, besides her sizeable portion, of which she had so pertly informed him, Alexandra Grantham was a diamond of the first water — a Titian beauty who would stand out from the mass of pale blondes and simpering brunettes who had dominated the London ballrooms for so long. The only factor against Miss Grantham being a resounding success, Mr Chanderly knew, was her outspokenness. She had actually dared to challenge his opinions, and some of her comments were positively scandalous. And, although he found her brand of conversation highly amusing, he knew that many members of the
ton
would not view her frankness with such leniency. As they rode through the gates of Grantham Place, and carried on up the drive to the charming Elizabethan manor house at the end, he said in a measured voice, “I strongly recommend that if you are to be accepted by Society that you have a care to your speech — and your conduct, Miss Grantham. Hoydenish behaviour, like riding about unattended, is not at all the thing, my girl.”

Alexandra looked at Mr Chanderly indignantly, not sure how she could have thought him understanding and sympathetic beforehand. “I would appreciate your not addressing me as “my girl” in that manner!” she snapped. “And you have absolutely no right, no right at all to stricture my conduct, and cast aspersions on my character. Hoydenish behaviour indeed!”

“You seem not to realise it, my girl,” Mr Chanderly said deliberately, “but your unruly tongue could cause the members of the
ton
to ostracise you. Simpering misses are the order of the day and red hair, and the fiery temperament which so often accompanies it, have not been fashionable for some time.”

Alexandra decided to ignore the allusion to her hair colour, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her rise to the bait. Instead, she said, “I refuse to change who I am in order to fit in with Society!”

Mr Chanderly looked at her calmly. “You will have to bow to convention if you wish to be accepted into polite circles, Miss Grantham.”

A groom came running to take Alexandra’s horse and help her dismount. She stood now on the first of the shallow steps that led up to the front door of the manor, and looked up at him in frustration.

He continued, “Try to behave in a more mature manner in future, Miss Grantham, and take a groom along with you when you go riding.”

Mr Chanderly raised his hat and bowed from the saddle. “Your servant, ma’am,” he said with a flourish, before turning his horse around and cantering off down the tree-lined drive, a tall splendid figure on a magnificent mount.

Alexandra saw nothing splendid in Mr Chanderly as she stormed up the stairs to the front door. “Insolent, insufferable, interfering man,” she muttered aloud, much to the dismay of the old family retainer, Higgins, who, at that moment, opened the door to his young mistress. Noting the hurt look on his face, Alexandra hastened to assure the elderly man that it was not him of whom she had been speaking. Although Higgins was relieved that her vituperative words were not directed at him, this did not prevent him from scolding her soundly for her wet appearance. “Because indeed, Miss Alexandra, you could end up with an inflammation of the lungs if you do not have a care to your health!” he admonished her.

“Thank you, Higgins, but I am perfectly well,” Alexandra assured him shortly, before sweeping up the stairs to her bedchamber, stepping out of her gown, ringing the bell violently for her maid, and collapsing on her bed in high dudgeon. “Insolent, insufferable man, I will have you know that I am my own person, and that I shall do precisely as I please,” she muttered to herself again, much to the astonishment of Hobbes who, having knocked on the door and hearing no reply, had entered the room. Catching sight of her maid, Alexandra pointed at the wet gown lying on the floor, and said tersely. “Take that — and burn it, Hobbes! I never wish to see it again!”

“You wish me to — to —
burn
it, Miss Alexandra?” Hobbes asked, a bewildered expression on her face.

“Yes, do. Take the horrid thing away.”

The maid picked up the offending garment from the floor and, after executing a quick curtsey, hurried out of the room with it, making straight for the kitchens where she related in a concerned voice to Mrs Jones, the cook, that she was of the opinion that the unseasonably warm weather had given Miss Alexandra a touch of the sun. “Because, indeed, Molly,” she said, “there can be no other explanation for such odd behaviour!”

Alexandra stared moodily at her breakfast plate the next morning. She had not slept well the previous night, and felt at odds with the world. She was thinking of all the crushing replies she should have made to Mr Chanderly when he had told her to behave in a more mature manner. Sighing, Alexandra thought that it was such a pity that one only thought of those clever responses when it was too late to utter them. Her brother’s exasperated voice finally penetrated her brown study and she looked up with a start when he said loudly, “Alexandra! I have asked you the same question three times without a response from you! You have not been listening to a word that I have been saying. You were the same last night. You left me to converse with Aunt Eliza whilst you sat in your chair, scowling at your plate. What ever is the matter?”

“I’m sorry, John,” Alexandra said contritely. She had decided not to mention her ill-fated encounters with Mr Chanderly to anyone, and had even refrained from telling her brother about them. Realising that he was waiting for an explanation from her for her behaviour she seized on her grandmother’s letter to explain her unwonted fit of the dismals. “It is only that Grandmama has written to me, insisting that I go to London for the Season, and I do not wish to go, and leave you here, all alone.”

Her brother looked at her with a decidedly stern expression in his eyes. Sir John Grantham was a couple of years older than his sister and he had a likeness of her, possessing the same blue eyes and fair skin. But, his hair was a lighter shade than Alexandra’s and constant ill health had left its mark on his face, etching lines of strain around his mouth and eyes. Though he was not a handsome young man, there was a certain gentleness of expression, and a humorous look in his eyes, which endeared him to all who knew him. Now, however, he was looking at his sister in considerable annoyance. “Alexandra, I won’t let you “sacrifice” your future for me. No matter what you may think I am sure to go on exceedingly well without you here. I will certainly miss you once you are in London, but I won’t repine, I assure you. Even though Grantham Place is isolated, I have my books, and the running of the estate to keep me occupied.”

Alexandra shook her head. “But you will be left here all alone, John, with only Aunt for company!”

“It is past time you were presented, Alexandra,” John said firmly. “Father particularly wanted Grandmama to bring you out, and if we had not been in mourning for Papa, you would have been presented last year. You are nineteen years old already, Alex. You must go to London, now.”

Alexandra looked at her brother in consternation. “But John! I thought you would be averse to the idea of my going to London!”

“You cannot think me so selfish that I would begrudge you a London Season, Alexandra!” John said. “Besides,” he continued, smiling, “I have been considering the idea of coming up to London in order to visit you — once you are settled in, of course.”

With considerable difficulty Alexandra managed to hide her dismay at this news. John had suffered from a consistent bronchial complaint his whole life which condition, she knew, would only be exacerbated by the London air. But knowing full well that her brother disliked more than anything to be reminded of his ill-health — deploring the attentions of what he termed “fussing females”, Alexandra merely smiled at him, responding in an enthusiastic voice that she was delighted that he felt the way he did about her imminent departure, and that she would look forward to seeing him in London.

Alexandra was greatly relieved a little while later, however, when John added, “I will only stay in London for a few short weeks, though, Alex. I enjoy living in the country far too much to endure the rigours of city life for an extended period of time.” He paused and then, with a mischievous grin that completely erased the lines of strain from his face, making him appear boyish and carefree, he continued, “I won’t be averse to trying out some of the entertainments that the Metropolis has to offer, however!”

The door of the breakfast-parlour opened and at the sound of rustling skirts, brother and sister looked up to see their Aunt Eliza walk with a slow gait into the room. Eliza Grantham had been widowed young, not many years after she had wed her husband, Sir Henry’s younger brother, and, having had no real prospect of receiving another marriage proposal, she had been most agreeable to undertaking the duty of looking after her brother-in-law’s household and children, at his request, when Sir Henry’s wife had died tragically in a carriage accident six years previously. Not having been well acquainted with his late brother’s wife, Sir Henry had realised, only a short while after his sister-in-law had come to live with them, the magnitude of his mistake. He had quickly come to regard his late brother’s widow as a decidedly foolish creature — remarking acerbically to his children that their aunt had more hair than wit, and that her incessant babbling would send him to Bedlam. He had managed to escape this terrible fate, however, by retreating as often as he could to his library, and adjuring Higgins that under
no circumstances
was he to allow Mrs Grantham to disturb him. His children, unfortunately, over the years had found it considerably more difficult to avoid their aunt’s company, and often was the time when they had wished her at Jericho.

Now, as Mrs Grantham walked into the room and saw her nephew and niece seated at the breakfast table, she gave them a fond smile, and bid them good morning. Her smile faded, however, when she saw Alexandra’s piled breakfast plate. She frowned reprovingly at her niece. “My dear child, it is positively indecent the amount of food that you manage to consume every day!” she said stringently. “A lady should never pile her plate with food. I, myself, never eat more than a roll for breakfast!”

Alexandra looked at her aunt, and barely refrained from giving a most undutiful giggle. While Alexandra was slim to the point of thinness, her aunt was a woman of considerable girth. She was a lady of middle years, with a pleasant if somewhat plump face, and when she spoke (which was often) her audience was wont to lose the line of her discourse in favour of staring in considerable fascination at her wobbling double chins.

Alexandra was on the verge of making a most mischievous reply to her aunt’s admonition, when she intercepted a reproving frown from her brother. Therefore, she nobly refrained from commenting on the number of sweetmeats that her aunt managed to consume within a day, and said instead, “Aunt Eliza, I engage in activities of an energetic nature, and must consume a large breakfast every morning to sustain me.”

Mrs Grantham threw up her hands in despair. “My dear child, that is yet another grievance of mine. Your way of life is far too vigorous for that of a young lady. Why I am sure that if I have told you once, I have told you countless times that you are ruining your complexion by being forever outdoors fishing, riding, walking and doing heaven knows what else! My love, I insist that you press crushed strawberries on your face. I read recently in the
Ladies
Monthly
Museum
, that your Grandmama so kindly sent us last month, that this remedy keeps the complexion wonderfully pure and reduces the danger of getting freckles.” Mrs Grantham smiled suddenly. “Speaking of your Grandmama, my dear, I must inform you that I received a letter from her this morning in which she advised me that you will soon be going to London for the Season! That surprises you, does it not?” Alexandra somehow did not look in the least surprised. “And, my dear,” her aunt continued, “I must positively insist that you practise singing and playing the pianoforte this morning. Why I believe that you have not set foot in the music room this month past. Fie on you, child! I do not know what your Grandmama will think of me if you are called to play and sing in London, and you have forgotten how!”

“But, Aunt,” Alexandra interposed at this moment, “I have absolutely no musical talent whatsoever. In fact,” she said meditatively, “I believe that I am tone-deaf.”

“That is all the more reason why you should practise, you foolish girl! Before you do so, however, I insist that you accompany me on a visit to Mrs Hadley.”

Alexandra grimaced at the thought of having to converse with the Squire’s gossiping wife, but before she could voice an objection to this scheme, her aunt carried inexorably on. “My dear, I am all agog. Yesterday afternoon when I was shopping in the village and received Mrs Hadley’s invitation to tea, she told me that she had some most interesting information to impart to me. I assure you, my dear, that she was big with news. I wonder whether she has finally found a suitor for Jane,” she mused. “Poor girl, she is most plain, but at least she applies crushed strawberries to her complexion every night, which is more than one can say for you, Alexandra,” she finished pointedly.