Alissa Baxter (5 page)

Alexandra turned around to see who it was who had broken the peaceful silence of the morning, and felt her heart sink at the sight of Mr Chanderly approaching her on horseback. He reined his horse in as he drew near her, and bowed. “Good morning, Miss Grantham.”

“Good morning, Mr Chanderly,” Alexandra said, looking at him with a wary expression on her face, her recent encounter with him fresh in her mind.

Mr Chanderly eyed her thoughtfully. “May I ask why you are trespassing again on my property?”

He said this in a civil enough tone but Alexandra received the distinct impression that he was not well pleased at finding her on his estate. For a moment she hesitated, unsure as to whether she should bring up the subject of the welfare of his tenants, but looking up into the face of the man seated on the horse, she decided that any censure she might suffer as the result of her outspokenness would be a small price to pay if, by some small chance, Mr Chanderly actually paid heed to what she said.

So, squaring her shoulders, she said, “I have been delivering baskets of food to some of your tenants, Mr Chanderly. Many of them are barely scraping a living and desperately need outside help.”

Mr Chanderly looked surprised. “My tenants are well paid, Miss Grantham. Your charitable works are not needed here.”

“I beg to differ, sir, but they are needed,” Alexandra said crisply. “The custodian that you put in charge of the estate in your absence has allowed the living conditions of your workers to deteriorate at an alarming rate. The wages that have been paid to them in the last six months have truly been a disgrace, and many of them go to bed hungry at night.” Alexandra paused, before continuing in a quieter voice, “If you will take the trouble to visit some of your tenants, Mr Chanderly, you will see that what I say is true. The roofs are leaking in many of the cottages, and they all generally have a tumbledown look about them. Indeed some of the walls are crumbling in places.”

Mr Chanderly frowned. “I cannot believe that what you say is true, Miss Grantham.” The stallion, seeming to sense the tension in his master, jumped skittishly, and Mr Chanderly turned his attention to bringing him back under control, before saying, “I was abroad when Sir George died, and instructed my man of business to send a suitable person to oversee the estate while I was away. Although I have noticed that there is much room for improvement here, I was under the impression that things have been sufficiently well managed in my absence.”

Alexandra looked steadily at him. “Once you have inspected the state of the cottages in which your tenants live, Mr Chanderly, I think you will realise that your man of business was duped. Mr Bailey certainly gives the impression of competence, but he is nothing but a fraud. Any worker on this estate will tell you that.”

“I will be sure to investigate the matter,” Mr Chanderly said, frowning still. After a moment, however, his brow cleared, and he continued, “Although on the whole I object to any interference in my personal affairs, Miss Grantham, I thank you for your interest in the well-being of my tenants. I must ask you, however, to desist from your self-appointed responsibilities towards them. They are within my care now.”

“I am afraid, sir, that I cannot agree to your request, until I am reassured that they will be well looked after.”

“You speak out of turn, ma’am,” Mr Chanderly said in a cold voice, and Alexandra flinched when she saw the forbidding expression on his face. Too late, she realised her mistake. By questioning Mr Chanderly’s word, she had made a direct attack on his integrity, something a man of honour would find it difficult to forgive. “I — I apologise, sir,” she faltered. “I spoke without thinking.”

Mr Chanderly continued to stare at her, his face set in stone, and Alexandra began to feel like a prisoner in the dock, awaiting sentence. Eventually, his features relaxed a little, and he said shortly, “I will excuse you this time, Miss Grantham, on the account of the fact that your concern for my tenants led you to speak out of turn. However, let me make one thing clear to you.” He paused and studied her for a long moment, before saying softly, “Never — ever question my word again.”

Alexandra swallowed and nodded. His anger was none the less frightening for being so well controlled, and she realised that she would have to watch herself in future. This was not a man to be trifled with.

Mr Chanderly tightened the reins he held loosely in his gloved hands. “Good morning, ma’am. You will be hearing more from me concerning this matter.”

With a light nudge from one knee he turned the stallion about, and cantered back along the track, in the direction of the tenants’ cottages. Alexandra breathed a sigh of heartfelt relief as she watched him leave, feeling somehow as if she had just been given a reprieve from the gallows.

When she returned to Grantham Place, Alexandra sought her brother out, and told him what had just transpired between her and Mr Chanderly. He looked at her gravely at the end of her discourse, and shook his head. “Really, Alex. You must learn to put a guard on that tongue of yours, or at least say things in a less forthright manner! I only hope that you haven’t severely offended Mr Chanderly. He is our closest neighbour, after all, and I, for one, do not wish to be at outs with him.”

Alexandra bit her lip. “I did apologise, John, and he appeared to accept my apology.”

“Well, I sincerely hope that this is the end of the matter.”

Alexandra looked at her brother ruefully. “He — he did mention that I would be hearing more from him regarding this.”

John sighed, and shook his head again. “Sometimes, I despair of you, Alex! You are always rushing headlong into situations without weighing up the consequences of your actions. Please try and be more careful in future.”

“I will try my best,” Alexandra promised, then felt guilty as she remembered the secret part of her life, of which her brother had no knowledge. He would be totally shocked if he found out about her escapades as a thief on the King’s highway. She knew, however, that she could not give up her activities. Not when so many people were relying on her to help them.

Later that afternoon, Alexandra and John were seated in the library together, discussing the merits of Byron’s latest offering, when Higgins entered the room and murmured, “A Mr Robert Chanderly, from Durbridge Court, has called, Sir John.”

John raised his brows. “Has he indeed? Well, show him in here, Higgins.”

“Certainly, sir,” Higgins said, before padding softly from the room.

Alexandra looked across at her brother with wide eyes. “Well! I did not expect to see him so soon...” She trailed off as Higgins opened the door again and ushered their visitor inside.

“Mr Robert Chanderly,” he intoned, before leaving the room.

Mr Chanderly, who had paused in the doorway for a brief moment, made his way across the room and bowed.

John rose from his chair, and bowed in turn. “John Grantham, at your service, sir,” he said. “I believe that you have already made the acquaintance of my sister, Mr Chanderly?”

“Indeed, I have,” Mr Chanderly said quietly, looking across at Alexandra with an inscrutable expression on his face. “Good afternoon, Miss Grantham.”

Alexandra felt her cheeks warm at his detached appraisal, and smiled a little nervously. “Good afternoon, Mr Chanderly,” she murmured.

The gentlemen sat down, and Alexandra rang for the tea tray to be brought in. As her brother conversed with Mr Chanderly about the state of agriculture in their county, Alexandra’s mind was in a fever of speculation, and she was grateful when the arrival of Higgins with the tea tray gave her something else to focus her attention on. She handed Mr Chanderly and her brother their cups of tea, before returning to her chair to pour her own. She had just taken a sip of the refreshing brew, when Mr Chanderly said coolly, “I must thank you, Miss Grantham, for informing me about the state of the living conditions of my tenants. I have done a thorough investigation of all the cottages on the estate, and agree with you that they are in a shocking state.” He paused to take a sip of his tea, then added, “Needless to say, Mr Bailey is no longer in my employ.”

Alexandra replaced her teacup in the saucer, before saying carefully, “I am happy that I was able to bring the matter to your attention, Mr Chanderly.”

“Yes, indeed,” he murmured. “And the manner in which you did so was most enlightening.”

Alexandra looked at Mr Chanderly cautiously, not quite sure what to make of his words. She glanced away in confusion, but feeling his eyes still upon her, she looked across at him again. And for a long moment she felt suspended in time, caught in the spell of that bold green gaze. It challenged her, while at the same time seemed to draw her magnetically closer to him. For some reason, she could not bring herself to look away, and it was only John’s voice, asking her for another cup of tea, that finally brought her back to her senses. Shakily putting down her cup and saucer, she turned her attention to her brother, blinking slightly as if she had just come out of a trance. John repeated his request and Alexandra, recalled suddenly to her sense of duty as a hostess, hastened to refill his cup, all the while avoiding looking in the direction of Mr Chanderly. He was too distracting an influence by far, she decided crossly, as she handed John back the teacup. Far too distracting.

It was with a great sense of relief, therefore, that Alexandra bid their visitor goodbye fifteen minutes later. She did so in her most formal manner, hoping to win back some of the ground she felt she had lost to him.

Mr Chanderly looked down at her as she spoke, a faint smile curling his lips. After she had finished her civil little speech, he bowed politely. “I said that you could well improve upon acquaintance, my dear, and I believe that I was correct. You are not, I am happy to see, a
complete
baggage. Good day, Miss Grantham. Sir John.” And upon these words, he took his punctilious leave of them.

“Dearest,” Eliza Grantham said, hurrying into the Drawing Room where Alexandra was seated. “I have the most exciting news! Indeed, I am sure you will be overjoyed when you hear it.”

Alexandra looked up from the book that she was reading, her brows raised in query. Her aunt, needing no further encouragement, plunged in to speech again. “Mrs Hadley has decided to organise a little party, this Saturday, to welcome Mr Chanderly to the area. It should prove to be a most enjoyable affair, my dear, with only the cream of Society invited. And I have already received our invitation! Are you not pleased, dearest?”

Alexandra’s brow creased. “But, I am not officially out yet, Aunt Eliza! Surely, I cannot be expected to attend?”

“You are not to concern yourself over that little matter, my dear,” Mrs Grantham said. “Jane Hadley is also to attend this function and she is not yet out, either. Besides, there is to be no dancing, or anything of a formal nature. It is merely a gathering of the local gentry and nobility, intended to welcome Mr Chanderly amongst us.”

“Oh,” Alexandra said, not feeling particularly enthusiastic about the idea. But, seeing the animated expression on her aunt’s face, she decided not to voice any objections to the scheme. Clearly the older lady was overjoyed at the prospect of a party, and Alexandra did not have the heart to dim her enthusiasm for the affair by asking to be excused from attending. So she smiled resignedly, and listened with one ear as her aunt rambled on about who she expected would attend the gathering, and what fashions the ladies would in all probability be wearing.

John came into the room a while later, and received the news of the party with even less enthusiasm than Alexandra had exhibited. He grimaced at Alexandra when their aunt bustled out of the room to attend to some household matter. “I suppose there is no way that we can avoid this function, Alex? Having to make conversation with all those fusty people is liable to give me a headache.”

Alexandra smiled sympathetically at him. “I think we will have to bow to the inevitable, my dear. Aunt is quite set upon the idea, as you might have noticed.”

“I would have had to be blind and deaf not to notice,” John grumbled. He looked down at his riding boots, and sighed. “Oh well, I suppose we shall have to do our duty.” His face brightened a little as he looked up again. “At least I shall be able to converse with Mr Chanderly, Alex. He has a fine head on his shoulders, you know, and spoke with some authority on agricultural matters when he paid us that call.”

“Yes, indeed,” Alexandra murmured, but in reality she did not feel at all happy at the prospect of another meeting with their new neighbour. She quickly turned the subject. “I have decided to write to Grandmama, John, and ask her to allow me to stay at home, instead of going to London for the Season.”

John looked at her in consternation. “But, Alex! I thought we had agreed that you were to go. I shall not have you remain at Grantham Place, purely on my account.”

Alexandra shook her head. “That is not my principal reason for wishing to remain here, John.”

“Then what is?” John asked, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

She sighed. “So many of the peasantry who live in this area rely on me for my charitable works, John. You know how I feel about helping them. It would be selfish of me to leave them to their own devices, and gallivant off to London. My conscience would not allow it.”

John eyed her shrewdly. “Well, I can tell you, Alexandra, that Grandmama’s conscience will not countenance your remaining here. She has just written me a letter, you know, informing me that she is quite determined to see you presented this year.”

Alexandra looked dismayed. “Do you think she will relent if I tell her the real reason I wish to remain here?”

“Somehow I doubt it, Alex,” John said gravely. He shook his head. “Besides, I do not see why you cannot delegate your duties to someone else. Surely Aunt Eliza could take over some of your work?”

Alexandra gave her brother an old fashioned look. “Can you really imagine Aunt Eliza visiting a cottager who is ill? She would in all probability give the poor person a setback with her nonsensical chatter about this and that and — No, John. It simply would not work.”