An Unexpected Love (4 page)

The neigh of a horse made her look round.

A rider, heavily cloaked, was turning his mount in the road, as if he had changed his mind and no longer wished to ride past the house.

Even from a distance, Ravina could admire the beautiful grey stallion the man was riding.

She wondered which of their neighbours owned such a horse and strained her eyes to see who it was.

But she realised the distance was too far and her eyes must be deceiving her, because she could have sworn that the horseman was, in fact, the dark–eyed stranger who had been so rude to her in the rose garden at the ball.

She half raised her hand to gesture to him, but by then he was trotting away back down the road.

‘Perhaps he is a guest at one of the other houses in the Crescent,' she thought and wondered which of her neighbours he could be visiting.

As she walked back across the hall, she said to Gibbs, the butler,

“As you know, I shall be leaving for the country tomorrow morning, Gibbs. Will you please inform George that I intend to drive myself.”

She saw him frown, but his training overcame his natural desire to interfere and he merely replied,

“Yes, my Lady.”

Ravina was faced with all the decisions that went with packing up a great house and moving herself and the staff to the country.

She had to arrange which servants should travel with her and which remain in London to make sure the rooms were kept well aired and cleaned, ready for her parents when they returned home.

Nanny Johnson would be accompanying Ravina and so would Gibbs, Mrs. Crandle, the head cook, and several of her staff.

Mrs. Crandle was a marvellous cook, but a real dragon and she knew that there would be tension between her and the cook at Curbishley Hall.

Ravina sighed as she answered a multitude of questions and decided which of her clothes to take and which to leave behind.

She paused briefly in front of her dressing table mirror and tidied her hair. She gazed at her reflection in the mirror.

It was a shame that she would miss so many parties and balls over the next few weeks.

“Oh, well, I am certain someone locally will be giving a ball while I am in Dorset,” she said to Charity, her maid, who was busy packing her trunk.

“I can think of lots of friends in Rosbourne who are sure to be in party mood. I think we had better be prepared, so pack both the ivory, pink and blue evening gowns. And don't forget the shoes.”

She ran down the stairs, heading for the music room to collect the sheet music she had been playing recently.

Ravina knew she was not as good a pianist as her cousin Dulcie, but she enjoyed accompanying her mother when she sang at evening soirées.

The piano at Curbishley Hall was very fine and it would be a pleasure to play it once more.

“There is a visitor, my Lady,” Gibbs announced gravely, crossing the hall as she appeared. “I have asked him to wait in the drawing room.”

“Oh, thank you, Gibbs. Who is it?”

“A Sir Michael Moore, my Lady. Asking for his Lordship.”

Ravina paused, her hand on the door knob. She had met Sir Michael briefly a few weeks earlier at a race meeting at Epsom and he had asked her to join a theatre party to see one of Mr. Barrie's new plays.

But she already had an engagement for that evening and so declined.

She wondered what Sir Michael could possibly want with her father and then remembered that he was as interested in horses as Lord Ashley.

When she entered the room, Ravina found him standing in front of the fireplace. He was a pleasant-faced, well built man in his late thirties, wearing a plain but well-cut suit.

He had a ‘no nonsense' air about him and Ravina could imagine him giving brisk orders in whatever he undertook in life.

“Good morning, Sir Michael. This is a very early visit.”

He held out his hand and stepped forward.

“Good morning, Lady Ravina. I do apologise for disturbing you, but I have called to ask your father for his advice, only to find that he and your mother have just left to go abroad.”

“I am sure Papa will be very sorry to have missed the chance of helping you,” Ravina replied. “Were you, perhaps, going to ask his advice about your racehorses? I believe you have quite a few and have been most successful.”

“Yes, indeed. I have a fine string of thoroughbreds, but my knowledge is not as great as your father's, which is why I came here this morning.”

He stopped and then ventured,

“And are you staying in London while your parents are away?”

“No,” Ravina replied, walking across the room to sit on a small leather sofa. “I am leaving soon to go to our country estate in Dorset.”

“Ah, good,” Sir Michael hesitated, “I was telling your father when we met at our Club last week that my house, which has been in my family for generations, is only about three miles from Curbishley Hall.”

She smiled politely and he continued,

“My father was very ill for many years before he died. He and my mother had travelled on business to Australia and he was too ill to return home. So the house was shut up and left.

“I inherited a small racing stable from my aunt and I have lived until now near Newmarket, but when my mother died last year, the Priory became mine.”

Ravina looked up, her eyes sparkling.

“Oh, I know now which house is yours. An ancient building you see when you ride beside our woodlands. But surely the Priory is a ruin?”

Sir Michael smiled and shook his head.

“It was, but is no longer. I have been restoring it all year. In fact, another reason for my visit today was to ask your parents if they would like to attend a dinner party I am planning to mark the Priory's glorious resurrection.”

“I am sure they will be sorry to miss it.” Sir Michael looked up eagerly.

“As you will be at Curbishley Hall, perhaps you would be my guest?”

Ravina clapped her hands together.

“Oh, thank you, Sir Michael, I would indeed love to see what you have achieved at the Priory. It is so exciting to think it is being brought alive again.

“I can remember as a child being scared to ride past the end of the drive on my pony, even when I had a groom with me. It was always so gloomy, the windows shuttered, the doors barred and the garden filled with weeds. There were rumours that it was haunted. I know I was told dreadful tales by my nursemaid. They scared me into being good.”

She paused for breath before she added,

“I can remember her saying that ghosts roamed the house and everyone in the nearby village was too frightened to walk past it.”

Sir Michael gave a hearty laugh.

“That was true,” he said, “but things have changed considerably in the last year. In fact, you can ask your cousin, Miss Allen. I think she has been most impressed by the progress I have made.”

“Dulcie?” Ravina asked, intrigued. “Has Dulcie visited the Priory?”

“Oh, it was quite proper,” Sir Michael said hastily. “We met in Rosbourne when I was looking for furniture and she kindly offered to bring me some samples of curtain material. With her help I chose the fabric I wanted and she arranged to have the drapes made.

“I was most grateful to her, and I am sure she will confirm that it would be perfectly safe for you to visit the parts that have been fully restored.”

Ravina tossed her head.

“Oh, well, I am quite certain that I am far braver than Dulcie. If I came to see the Priory, then I would want to see it all, not just the safe areas.”

Sir Michael smiled at her enthusiasm. She was certainly a very different female to her quiet older cousin.

“Perhaps you will have some ideas for the rooms that I have not yet touched,” he suggested. “Miss Allen – ”

“I certainly have more up–to–date ideas than Dulcie,”Ravina cut in scathingly. “I will be only too pleased to help you.”

“I wonder – ” Sir Michael walked to the window, then turned to face her again, but she could not see the expression on his face because the light came from behind him.

“If you are leaving tomorrow for the country, perhaps you could assist me by allowing me to accompany you? I had intended to drive down, but my motor car has developed a very strange clanking noise under the bonnet and the mechanic tells me it will take a few days to repair.”

Ravina was rather surprised at his proposal. At the same time, she felt it would be unnecessarily rude to say that she preferred to travel alone.

“Of course,” she agreed, after a moment's pause. “I will be delighted to convey you to Dorset. But I intend to leave very early tomorrow. Before breakfast, in fact. Perhaps you would find that too much of a rush?”

“On the contrary, it would suit me very well. I am most obliged.”

Ravina rang the bell for Gibbs.

“Then I will see you in the morning, Sir Michael, and we can tackle the Priory together.”

She hesitated as she spoke, realising that perhaps she was being too forward.

Then she shrugged. Surely no one could disapprove of her helping a neighbour decorate his home. What harm could there be in that?

Gibbs appeared and ushered Sir Michael from the room. Ravina heard them walking across the hall, the sound of the front door opening and closing and Gibbs's footsteps echoing back down the passage.

Just then she realised that her visitor had left his gloves on a chair. She picked them up and ran swiftly to the front door.

She heaved it open and peered out to see if Sir Michael was still in view. But he was not.

Then to her surprise, as she stood on the top step, the gentle wind blowing her skirt into a flurry around her ankles, she realised that a tall cloaked figure was walking past.

It was the rude stranger again. The one from the ball. As she gasped, he looked up, his dark eyes seeming to burn into hers.

He raised his hand in a sombre salute and walked past, vanishing round the bend of the Crescent as if he had never been there at all.

Ravina spent a restless night, tossing and turning in her pink and gold bedroom, her dreams haunted by the stranger's dark piercing gaze.

She rose at dawn, hours earlier than usual, feeling weary and irritable and was bathed, dressed and downstairs before the housemaids had finished sweeping the gleaming staircase.

They looked astonished to see her up and about, but Ravina was too engrossed in her own thoughts to notice their expressions.

She had seen the dark-haired man three times now. Surely it could not be a coincidence?

She had heard of men stalking their victims – indeed, one of her friends had undergone a very distressing experience with a young curate, who had pressed his attentions on her daily, even lurking in the shrubbery in her garden to spy on her.

Admittedly the poor young clergyman had been found lacking in his brain and was now receiving treatment in a mental hospital, but it showed Ravina that strange events could occur in even the most sheltered of lives.

Could the man she had seen three times be someone similar? Surely not. There had been no sign of weakness in his face. All she had seen was determination and strength.

Within minutes all the hustle and bustle of a household in the throes of moving erupted around Ravina.

Trunks and boxes were loaded onto the second carriage and the servants who were going down to the country climbed aboard, chattering happily and glad of this break to their routine.

Splendidly attired in her best black outfit, her Sunday bonnet adorned with a wreath of cherries, Nanny Johnson made her way slowly downstairs, grumbling under her breath.

Ravina hurried across the hall to slip a hand under her arm, but the old lady shook it off.

“Now, now, Lady Ravina. There's no need to play the nurse with me. I may be old, but I'm not decrepit! Now, are you sure about travelling to Dorset alone with this Sir Michael Moore? I think young Charity should be in the carriage as well. And why are you ruining your hands driving the team when George can do it perfectly well?”

“Oh, Nanny, don't fuss so,” Ravina exclaimed, laughing happily, helping her into the carriage and making sure she had a thick rug tucked round her knees.

“I am handling the horses because I love driving and George will be ready to take over the reins if I need a rest.”

Just then Sir Michael arrived by Hackney cab and stood watching as the heavily laden staff coach trundled away down the road.

“You are certainly travelling light, Sir Michael,” Ravina commented as he was only holding a small leather valise.

“Unlike you ladies, I do not need quite so many changes of outfit and I have most of my country clothes at the Priory already. When my car has been repaired, Goodwin, my chauffeur, will drive it down with the rest of my cases.”

“I, on the other hand,” Ravina smiled, “have so many outfits to pack that I almost needed a third coach for the luggage!”

“I trust you have remembered some pretty evening dresses. I intend to give a big party when the Priory is ready for visitors.”

“How long will that be?”

“Oh, not too long. But there is still a great deal to be done before I can accommodate a large number of visitors and their staff.”

“You will certainly be extremely popular with the local families, Sir Michael. The last time I was in Dorset, my friends were bemoaning the fact that there were too few parties to attend.”

With a clatter of hooves and grating of wheels on the roadway, a smaller carriage emblazoned with the Ashley crest on its side panel and pulled by two beautiful greys, came round the corner.

George Jarvis, the elderly coachman, jumped down from the driving seat to hold the horses'heads, while, with a disapproving frown, the footman helped Ravina to take his place, pulling a warm rug over her knees.

Sir Michael stared in disbelief as he cautiously climbed up to sit beside her.

Ravina raised her hand in farewell to the servants who were standing in the doorway, then released the brake and shook up the reins, guiding the team into a slow controlled walk as George leapt onto the little seat behind her.