Gail Whitiker (10 page)

Lady MacInnes sought him out shortly after he returned to the house.

‘Robert, I was hoping to speak to you,’ she said, drawing him aside. ‘I saw you and Hannah walking in the garden. Have you decided what you are going to do?’

Robert ran his hand through his hair, hopelessly dishevelling it. ‘I haven’t. But Hannah did tell me that Mama had been about to tell her something of great import the night she died.’

Lady MacInnes gasped. ‘Do you think she planned on telling Hannah the truth?’

‘I think it likely. Apparently, Mama said it was something she should have told Hannah
and
myself years ago, but that she hadn’t because she’d never found the right time.’

Lady MacInnes nodded. ‘I can understand her feeling that way. Who can say when the time would be right for such a difficult disclosure.’

‘Indeed. But given that Mama knew her health was failing, I’m sure she wanted Hannah to hear it from her, rather than risk anyone else telling her.’

‘I suppose,’ Lady MacInnes reluctantly agreed, ‘though I am not convinced Hannah would ever have found out had I not said anything to you about it.’

Robert eased his breath out on a long, weary sigh. ‘Well, the fact is, I
do
know, and in an effort to protect the family, I don’t see that I have any choice but to tell Hannah. Lord knows, I’ve no desire to hurt the girl, but Mama left her a considerable inheritance. And while I’m not as concerned about the money, I do feel the emeralds should remain in the family.’

‘Perhaps it would be kinder if I told her, Robert,’ Lady MacInnes offered. ‘After all, I’m little more than a stranger to her.’

‘You’re no more a stranger to her than I am,’ Robert said, grimacing. ‘I’ve not exactly gone out of my way to further our relationship. No, thank you for the offer, Cousin Margaret, but I think it only right that I be the one to do it.’

‘When will you tell her?’

Robert thought for a moment. There could be no good time for such a disclosure. The question was when would it hurt the least?

‘I told her we would talk after dinner tonight, but perhaps it would be better if I waited until you returned to Scotland. Hannah will no doubt be grievously hurt and embarrassed, and I think the fewer people who are around to witness her discomfort, the better. She does not deserve what is about to happen to her, but she cannot go on living a lie. None of us can.’

As he turned to walk away, Lady MacInnes put her hand on his arm, gently staying him. ‘You have much of your father in you, Robert. You may choose to hide it under a gruff exterior, but you are every bit as kind and as compassionate as he was.’

Robert sighed. ‘I only wonder if Hannah will think as kindly of me as you do, Cousin. After all, I am about to destroy her world. How compassionate can that be deemed by anyone, I wonder.’

Dinner that evening was a far more convivial occasion than it had been on the previous nights. The presence of Lady MacInnes seemed to mitigate some of the lingering stiffness between Robert and Hannah, and though he was still a little subdued, Hannah felt considerably more relaxed in his company than she had at any time since his arrival. If anything,
she
was the quiet one, knowing that they were to talk after dinner, and wondering what the nature of the conversation was to be.

‘Hannah?’ Lady MacInnes said.

Glancing up, Hannah smiled. ‘Forgive me, Cousin, my mind was wandering.’

‘That’s all right, my dear. I only said that you are to be commended on the quality of the meals served at Gillingdon Park. That was as fine a dinner as any I have enjoyed.’

‘Thank you. Mrs Broughton is an excellent cook,’
Hannah said, quick to give credit where it was due. ‘She has been with Mama for as long as I can remember.’

Lady MacInnes smiled. ‘As I recall, a number of the servants have been here quite some time.’

‘Oh, yes. Mama believed in treating them well. I doubt they saw anything to gain by going elsewhere.’

‘So they were loyal to her,’ Robert said, his attention seemingly fixed on the glass in his hand.

‘Indeed. They respected her, you see, Robert. And I truly believe some of them loved her. Sally certainly did. But then, Mama was such a warm and caring lady…’ Hannah broke off, her voice thickening. ‘Forgive me, it is still…so recent.’

To her surprise, she saw moisture gathering in Lady MacInnes’s warm brown eyes. ‘Time will make it easier, my dear. But right now, as you say, it is still so new, and the pain is so fresh.’

Hannah nodded, not wishing to break down in front of them but knowing she was perilously close to doing so. ‘Well, perhaps we should retire and leave Robert to his port,’ she said. ‘Mr Mudd, would you have coffee brought to the green drawing-room for Lady MacInnes and myself.’

The butler bowed. ‘Very good, miss.’

‘I shall not be long,’ Robert told them.

Hannah wanted to tell him to take all the time he liked, indeed, to take all night if he desired, but she knew there was no point. It would only put off the inevitable.

As it turned out, however, the inevitable came sooner than expected. After only a brief time together in the drawing-room, Lady MacInnes begged leave to return to her room, complaining of a megrime that she feared would only worsen as the hour grew late. Hannah as
sured her that she was not in any way offended, and wished her a good night.

Then, she sat in silence, quietly sipping her coffee as she waited for her brother to arrive and the revelations to begin.

In the dining-room, Robert mulled over the situation as he stared down into the depths of his glass. He went over everything Lady MacInnes had told him, reviewing the events in his mind, desperately trying to find some way of softening the blow he had to deliver. But he knew there was none. There was simply no easy way of saying what he knew he must.

But at least he did not have to tell her tonight. He would wait until tomorrow, after Lady MacInnes had left and there were only the two of them in the house. It was better that way. Kinder. With that in mind, Robert got up and made his way to the drawing-room.

The door was open, and for a moment he just stood in the shadows of the hall, looking into the room, watching Hannah. He was surprised to see that his cousin had already left, but in truth, he wasn’t disappointed. It would give him an opportunity to spend a little time alone with Hannah.

At the moment, she was seated in a high-backed chair next to the window. Her dark mourning clothes served as a stark contrast to the light green silk of the chair, and to the dainty ornaments sprinkled throughout the room. She was turned slightly away from him, and seemed to be lost in thought. Her eyes were fixed on a painting on the wall, but somehow, Robert doubted it was the focus of her thoughts.

For the first time, he found himself looking at her through the eyes of a man, rather than through those of
a brother. Funny how the simple knowledge that she wasn’t his sister had changed his attitude towards her. Where before he would have given only cursory interest to her appearance, now he found himself openly admiring of it. The soft curve of her cheek, the graceful line of her neck and shoulders. In the flickering candlelight, her dark hair glowed with shadows of deep gold and rich copper. And still, those long dark lashes cast shadows on her cheeks.

She would be well received in London, Robert found himself thinking. Not only for her outward beauty but for her inner serenity. He had watched her closely these last few days. Indeed, at times he had scrutinised her almost to the point of cruelty. And yet he had seen nothing in her that was not to be admired. Her consideration to even the most inconsequential of guests, her attitude towards the servants, and her general good nature were qualities to be admired, and they would attract rich and poor alike.

Yes, she would make some man an excellent wife, Robert thought of a sudden, surprised to find his thoughts drifting in that direction. Even more surprising was the realisation that he was rethinking his plan with regard to introducing her to his good friend, James. In the fullness of time, Stanford would assume his father’s title, and become the master of a vast and profitable estate. Not a bad match for a young lady of questionable birth.

Funny that the thought did not make him happier.

‘Are you going to stand in the shadows all night, Robert, or will you come in and join me?’

Startled, Robert smiled. Feeling a little sheepish, he walked into the room. ‘Forgive me. I had not thought you aware of my presence.’

For the first time, she turned her head to look at him, and he saw the sparkle in her deep blue eyes. ‘I always seem to know when you are near. It must be the connection between us. It makes us seem closer than most.’

He walked towards her, glancing at the furnishings in the room as he did so. He had forgotten so much about this house. But then, why would he remember? As a boy, he would hardly have been interested in the exquisite perfection of a Meissen vase, or in the delicacy of a porcelain shepherdess. He would have paid scant attention to the Gainsboroughs and Rembrandts hanging on the walls, or to the quality of the centuries old furnishings. But as a man, he appreciated it all, recognising how it worked together to make the room stylish, yet comfortable.

And as a man, he noticed how Hannah Winthrop, sitting quietly in the green silk chair, only added to the beauty and elegance of the room.

‘I have not complimented you on your composure over the last few days, Hannah,’ Robert said now as he crossed to stand by the fireplace. ‘You are as gracious a hostess as I ever remember my mother being.’

Her cheeks flushed pink at the compliment. ‘To be compared to Mama in such a way is flattering indeed, Robert, thank you. May I pour you some coffee?’

He shook his head. ‘I am content to savour the lingering taste of brandy. Perhaps later.’

She nodded, and the silence resumed. Strange how such a large house could be so quiet, Robert marvelled. They might have been the only two people in it.

‘Hannah—’

‘Robert—’

They laughed, both feeling the tension, perhaps both anxious to set the other at ease. ‘After you,’ he offered.

‘No, please, I fear I interrupted.’

He glanced down at the floor, then removed his arm from the mantle. He took a few steps towards her, hoping to look at ease as he locked his hands behind his back. ‘Hannah, I said earlier that we would talk this evening, but I think perhaps it is better that we wait until tomorrow.’

He saw her alarm, then her confusion. ‘Why? Have you changed your mind about what you wish to tell me?’

‘No,’ he said in a regretful tone. ‘I simply thought it might be better for you if we discussed it tomorrow.’

‘You mean, after Lady MacInnes leaves?’

Her perceptiveness surprised him. ‘What makes you say that?’

‘I’m not sure. Perhaps because I have no idea what you are going to say, but because I expect it to be unpleasant. And if that is the case, you’re probably feeling I would not be inclined to entertain company after I hear it.’

‘
I’m
company,’ he pointed out. ‘At least, you have repeatedly told me that we are more like strangers than we are brother and sister. Perhaps you will not wish to see me either.’

‘Ah, but you are the bearer of the bad news, so you have no choice but to stay.’

Robert winced. ‘You are sure, then, that it is bad news I bring?’

‘Oh, yes. After all, Mama said it was something that would change my life, and you have said nothing to make me think differently. I have racked my brain trying to think what it might be, but I cannot conceive that it is anything but bad. So, to be honest, Robert—if you are going to tell me something like that, I would just as soon you say it now and get it over with.’

‘It is not something that will be easy for you to hear, Hannah.’

‘Nevertheless, it is something that I
must
hear, yes?’

‘I’m afraid it is.’

‘Then whether you tell me tonight or tomorrow really makes no difference.’ Hannah slowly got to her feet. ‘Am I to understand this
is
what Mama wished to tell me before she died?’

‘I believe so.’

‘You’re not sure?’

‘I cannot be sure under the circumstances. But even if it were not, it is something you must know.’

She straightened her shoulders and then turned to face him. ‘Then I beg you, say it as quickly as possible. For I know I should not be able to sleep if I knew I had to go through another day of waiting.’

‘You may wish to be seated.’

The tensing of her jaw betrayed her anxiety, but her features remained composed. ‘If it is truly so bad, I would rather be on my feet so that I may run from the room to hide my dismay.’ Her words were accompanied by a smile, but he could see by the way her lips trembled that she was not as serene as she appeared. ‘Say what you must, Robert.’

Where did he start? There was both delicacy and strength to Hannah’s face, but what kind of strength would it take to withstand the terrible blow she was about to receive?

‘Hannah, you know that…my mother went to stay with Cousin Margaret in Scotland shortly after Father died,’ he began slowly. ‘And you know that she stayed with her for approximately ten months.’

Hannah nodded, obviously seeing nothing frightening in the remark. ‘Yes.’

‘You may also know, that on the trip back from Scotland, she was required to break her journey and to spend a few nights at various inns along the way.’

‘Of course.’

‘Well, what you do not know is that at one of the places she stayed something of a rather…extraordinary nature occurred.’

‘Oh? How extraordinary?’

‘She came out one morning to find that someone had left…something in her carriage.’

‘Something?’

‘A package, if you will.’

Hannah smiled. ‘Am I supposed to guess what was in this package?’ The amusement in her voice indicated an attempt to lighten the mood, but the look on his face must have assured her it wasn’t possible. ‘Forgive me,’ she said, instantly contrite.

‘That’s all right,’ Robert said. ‘I’m not doing a very good job of this. As I said, Mama found this…bundle in her carriage, and was at a loss to know what to do with it. Apparently, no one was seen leaving it there, nor did anyone return to collect it. But it was something that would change the course of my mother’s life, and indeed all of our lives, for ever.’