An Unexpected Love (10 page)

Sir Michael took a sip of wine and frowned.

“Indeed, I believe from my conversations with your cousin that what happened could have been called a criminal offence. Am I correct, some man – I will not give him the courtesy of calling him a gentleman – blatantly lied and cheated her father out of all of his money?”

Ravina nodded. She had only met Mr. Allen and Dulcie once before their lives had changed so dramatically and that had been at a family party when she was very small.

Now she could not remember the details about Dulcie's fall into poverty. She had only been told that her cousin would be coming to Curbishley Hall as housekeeper and would be a companion for Ravina when she was in Dorset.

Obviously, Ravina had heard gossip from the servants in the weeks that followed, but Dulcie herself had said very little on the subject.

Ravina had felt it would be impolite and hurtful to ask her questions. Bringing up the past could only cause Dulcie distress and so she had not pressed her for details.

“To lose your station in life must be hard and especially so for one such as Miss Allen who has such an appreciation for the finer aspects of life. How lucky it was for her that your father stepped in to help.”

“My parents would never let a family member suffer if they could possibly prevent it,” Ravina replied warmly. “My father has very strong views on loyalty and duty.”

“And she has told me that she will always be thankful to him.”

Sir Michael cut himself a large slice of cheese and speared it with the end of his knife.

“Miss Allen owes Lord Ashley a great debt of gratitude,” he continued. “I believe she would never leave, even if an offer of another position was made to her. Is that your opinion, Lady Ravina?”

Ravina looked up, startled, the melting ice sliding off her spoon and splashing onto the tablecloth.

“I cannot believe my parents would stand in Dulcie's way if, say, she was to be offered the position of housekeeper at a larger establishment – dare I even say, one of the Royal households. Although I have never heard her speak of any inclination to leave.”

Sir Michael gestured to the footman who poured him another glass of wine.

“Housekeeper? Oh, yes, quite. She seems more than happy looking after Curbishley Hall while you and your parents are in London. And of course her reduced circumstances make the possibility of changing her station in life “well, we will not continue thus. But talking of marriage, Lady Ravina – ”

“Were we?” Ravina looked up, startled, wishing the footman would return with coffee to bring this awkward meal to a close.

Sir Michael pushed his plate aside and folded his hands pompously on the table in front of him.

He looked to Ravina as if he was about to preside over some official meeting.

She felt a wild desire to giggle begin to rise inside her.

“I have decided that I must turn my mind to that problem. I need a wife to provide me with an heir. The Priory needs a Mistress, someone who will care for it, help me with all the different functions I wish to give and take her rightful position in the social fabric of the County.”

He took a deep breath, the buttons on his waistcoat straining.

“Lady Ravina, I know that we have – ”

“Oh! Oh! Goodness me. I am so sorry!”

Ravina had jerked her hand, sending a cascade of red wine splashing across the table.

She leapt up and dabbed at her amber skirt with a linen napkin.

“Oh, dear, red wine is so difficult to remove from fabric. I do hope it will not stain. Would you ring the bell for your butler, please, Sir Michael? I know it is only a riding habit, but I must sponge it immediately.”

Ravina chattered on, hardly drawing breath, glad that in the ensuing fuss, the thorny subject of marriage was forgotten.

She was also glad that she had remembered one of the many lessons Nanny Johnson had taught her.

“If you are keen for a gentleman to stop talking on a certain subject, it is far better to cause a diversion rather than try to interrupt him. Gentlemen hate to be interrupted.”

A maid was summoned and escorted Ravina upstairs to a guest bedroom where she could rest while her skirt was carried away to be sponged.

Ravina lay on the bed, her head aching from the strain of the day, watching out of the window as the afternoon sun slid down the sky until it hovered above the waving green branches of the nearby woodlands.

When her skirt was finally returned to her, she lost no time in hurrying downstairs and saying her goodbyes.

Sir Michael was waiting for her in the hall. He accompanied her outside where a groom was holding Sweetie.

Ravina listened to Sir Michael's repeated promises that she and she alone should be hostess at his big house-warming party.

Hardly knowing what she was saying in her haste to leave, Ravina agreed to return in two days to finalise all the plans.

With a sense of relief she allowed the groom to help her onto Sweetie.

She gathered the reins together, waved farewell to Sir Michael and urged the mare forwards.

Then she realised the groom was still holding Sweetie's bridle, walking swiftly at her side.

“My Lady – ”

“Yes – ?” Ravina peered down at the worried face. “Why, I know you! It's Bobby Watson, isn't it? Hello, Bobby, how nice to see you. I did not know you were in service with Sir Michael. I am pleased for you. This is a step-up, surely.”

The Watson family were well known to Ravina and her parents. Joe Watson, the father, was a surly brute of a man who, although he was trained as a blacksmith, worked as little as possible, unless you counted poaching as work.

He feigned illness and injury and relied on the charity of nearby families to keep him and his family from the workhouse.

He lived with his wife and an ever-increasing family in a little hovel close to the river bank.

The shack was damp and dark and Ravina hated the times she was made to accompany her mother there on errands of mercy – delivering old clothes and baskets of produce to Mrs. Watson to help her cope with her brood of thin, runny–nosed children.

Ravina suddenly recalled that Beatrice, the nursemaid who had scared her so much when she was little, was Joe Watson's sister.

But Bobby, the eldest Watson boy, had always seemed to have more intelligence than the rest of his family.

Ravina knew he loved horses and she was delighted to see that he was now working in a good job. Living in at the Priory could only improve his lot. Away from the dirt and criminal tendencies of his dreadful father, he would surely make something of his life.

“Yes, my Lady. I've been here for six months now.”

“I will tell my mother when she returns to England.She will be so pleased to hear that you are doing well. And how is your family?”

Bobby gazed up at her as they walked down the drive, his fingers nervously smoothing Sweetie's mane.

“They're – well, ‘bout the same, I suppose, my Lady. Pa – well, he's away a lot.”

Ravina was puzzled.

She did not quite understand why the boy was anxious to talk to her, but knowing how difficult it was for the whole Watson family to put together a sensible sentence, she asked,

“Is there something you want, Bobby? Something I can do for you and yours? I can arrange for my cousin, Miss Allen, to put together some supplies for your mother if she is – well, if you are expecting another brother or sister in the near future.”

He licked his lips, his eyes very blue in his dirty tanned face.

“No, no, Ma is fine. We're all fine. That is, well, I want you to take care in those woods, my Lady. Don't you go ridin' out on your own.”

“Bobby?”

The boy dropped the bridle as they reached the big iron gates and sidled away into the undergrowth that surrounded the gatehouse.

“I can say no more,” he said, his voice sounding desperate. “Just be careful, Lady Ravina. Be careful in them there woods!”

Leaving Bobby, the Priory and Sir Michael behind her, Ravina trotted back to Curbishley Hall along the main road.

She wanted to reach home as fast as she could.

“That is the only reason I am using the road,” she firmly told herself. “I am certainly
not
scared of the woods. Bobby is trying to frighten me with his warnings.”

She urged Sweetie into a faster trot.

“I am really disappointed in him. He is as bad as his Aunt Beatrice was all those years ago, telling me ghost stories about the Priory to punish me when I was naughty.”

She refused to pay any attention to Bobby's silly remarks. The woods, although still enticing as the sun set behind the hills, would have to wait for another day.

Once or twice, she turned in her saddle, sure she could hear hoof beats on the road behind her. But there was no sign of another horse.

To her surprise, Dulcie was in the stable yard when she rode in.

Ravina slipped from the saddle and handed the reins to the groom.

“Dulcie, were you waiting for me? Is there a problem?”

“Ravina – what – oh, no, I was just – I came down to check – we need apples in the kitchen – Ravina, you really should not ride around the countryside on your own. It is most unwise.”

“Dulcie, dearest, I was accompanied all the way to the Priory by Sir Richard and the road home was straight and quick. Whatever could happen to me in our own village?”

“And how is Sir Michael?” Dulcie asked, casually, finding great interest in the basket of fruit she was carrying. “Were you impressed by his restoration work at the Priory?”

“He seems very well. Indeed, he keeps an extremely full table for a man living on his own. If he is not careful, he might well be considered too fat in a few years' time.”

Dulcie looked shocked.

“Ravina. That is a most uncharitable remark. Sir Michael is a fine figure of a man. Indeed, I know no better.”

Ravina felt a mischievous smile breaking across her face and struggled to keep it back.

It was slowly becoming very clear to her exactly what Dulcie's true feelings for their near neighbour were.

But she could see that her cousin was flustered and miserable and tried to change the subject.

“Has Sir Richard returned to collect his horse?”

“No, the grooms have been waiting for him. Now it is getting dark, I imagine he has been delayed in some way. When he does arrive, we must of course, offer him our hospitality once more.”

Ravina nodded, wondering why she felt such a rush of pleasure that she would be seeing the stern, dark-eyed man again.

But then, he had not seemed so stern when he was racing her across the country. She could clearly recall how he had looked when they had reined in their mounts on the top of the hill.

His dark hair had been tangled across his brow, his eyes had gleamed and the austere expression had vanished from his face.

*

If Ravina dressed for dinner with more care than usual, she refused to admit it to herself.

The cream silk dress with the lace overlay was cut lower than the ones she normally wore and she insisted that Charity tried various hair styles before she was happy with the cascade of blonde curls that fell across her shoulders from a beautiful sapphire clasp.

She was about to go down for dinner when she remembered Bobby.

Of course what he was saying was nonsense, but –

She walked upstairs to Nanny Johnson's room and found her sitting, nodding over her fire, even though the evening was warm and sultry.

Her face broke into a toothless smile as Ravina came in and sank down onto the little stool by the side of the old lady's chair – a stool she had used ever since she could remember.

“Hmm, that dress is too low cut for a country dinner, miss.”

“Oh, Nanny. Don't fuss. I like it. You must try to keep up to date with the latest fashions, you know.”

“Hmmph.” Nanny's eyes twinkled. “The only reason I know for a young lady to wear a revealing dress when she is only dining with her companion, is that she hopes a gentleman she likes will be attending as well.”

“Nanny!”

Ravina jumped to her feet and wandered round the room, fingering all the little knick-knacks that littered every inch of space.

“Did you ever want to marry and have your own family, Nanny?” Ravina asked suddenly, wondering why this was the first time this question had ever occurred to her. “Was there ever a boy you liked?”

Nanny glanced up and if Ravina had been looking in her direction, she would have seen a quick flash of something close to pain cross her old face.

She was remembering a short, stocky young man with bright brown hair and merry hazel eyes. A young man who had been swept up by the Press Gang one misty winter morning on his way to work and who had died, somewhere on the ocean, a long way away from her comforting arms, fighting for King and country.

“Far too busy looking after the Ashley children to worry about having my own,” she replied. “And why are you bothering me with all these questions, Lady Ravina, when you should be downstairs enjoying the dinner the staff has laboured over preparing for you?”

Ravina smiled.

“Do you remember Beatrice Watson, Nanny?”

The old woman snorted.

“The silly chit who scared you out of the few wits you had when you were tiny? One of the Watson clan, she was.”

“I saw Bobby Watson today at the Priory. He is Joe Watson's eldest boy and is working in the stables.”

“Then that Sir Michael isn't the sensible man I thought he was. I wouldn't have any of the Watson clan anywhere near me.”

“Bobby said – ”

Nanny shushed her.

“I do not want to hear another word, Lady Ravina. Whatever he said, don't you believe it. They are all thieves and liars, those Watsons.”

Ravina smiled at her old nurse's outraged expression. But she felt reassured.

Yes, it was just as she had thought.