Joan Wolf (15 page)

“I am. You’re not.” She pointed to a piece of chicken left on his plate.

“I’m hungry for other things,” he said, marching her toward the bed.

“I’m tired,” she protested.

“Too bad. You said you wanted a baby. Well, let me tell you, making babies takes time. And effort.” He pushed her back on the bed and then threw himself down beside her, one leg across hers, his face very close. “Are you prepared to cooperate?” he asked with mock severity.

A smile indented the corner of her lips, and her eyes were even smokier than usual. “Oh, well,” she said, “if it’s in a good cause.”

“The best of causes, my love,” he murmured, brushing his mouth against hers. “The very best.”

III

... a generous and constant passion in an agreeable lover, where there is not too great a disparity in other circumstances, is the greatest happiness that can befall the person beloved. —Richard Steele,
The Tatler

Chapter Nineteen

Laura held firm about not leaving Castle Dartmouth unless Mark came with her. “I absolutely refuse to leave you here to face all the vicious gossip,” she said steadily. “If you wish me to go, we will have to go together.”

“All right, Laura, all right,” he had finally given in. “God, but you’re stubborn.”

“Only when provoked,” she returned sweetly.

There was silence as she stirred her coffee. They were sitting in Laura’s private sitting room having breakfast. “Where will we go?” she asked at length.

“I think perhaps to Cheney Manor in Derbyshire,” he answered slowly. “It’s a nice little manor house and it shouldn’t take too long to get it ready for us. There is a caretaker couple living in the house and no other servants aside from a few gardeners to look after the property.”

“Do you want to bring some servants from Castle Dartmouth?” she asked carefully.

“No, I do not. I don’t want anyone near us who has had access to you here.” She nodded slowly and sipped her coffee. “We’ll engage some servants from the area,” he continued. “They may not be highly trained, but they’ll be safe. I’ll have Farnsworth get on it.” He pushed his coffee cup aside. “In the meanwhile, Laura, I don’t want you to set foot out of this house.”

She sighed unhappily. “It makes me feel so wretched, Mark, suspecting everyone who comes near me. It’s a horrible way to live.”

“I know, and we’ll remove to Cheney Manor as soon as possible. But until we do, I want you to stay in the house.” He sounded very much like a captain giving orders to a subordinate; he wasn’t asking, he was commanding.

“All right,” said Laura. “It will be dreadfully tedious, but I’ll stay in the house.”

He rewarded her with a brief smile. “Good girl. Now, let me go and talk to Farnsworth
.
”

* * * *

It was ten days before they finally did arrive at Cheney Manor in Derbyshire. Mr. Farnsworth had had the house opened up for them and had engaged a minimal staff to assist the caretakers. The early-May weather was lovely, so Mark, Robin, and Laura drove in the phaeton, followed by two coaches loaded with their luggage. The only other horse they brought besides the carriage horses was Robin’s pony.

Cheney Manor was a lovely old house built of mellow pink brick and set in a small but gracious park. It was not at all on the scale of Castle Dartmouth, but it was clearly the home of a gentleman. It had been in the Cheney family for several generations. Laura liked it immediately, and she liked as well the pleasant faced couple who were to be the mainstays of her staff.

They arrived late in the day, and by the time Robin had seen his pony safely stabled, a task he insisted on doing himself, he was ready to drop with tiredness. Laura gave him his dinner in the large bright nursery on the third floor and tucked him into bed. He was asleep almost immediately.

She went down to her bedroom, where a pretty young girl was waiting to help her change her dress. Even Laura’s personal maid and Mark’s valet had been left behind at Castle Dartmouth. She put on a primrose-colored silk evening gown and went downstairs to join Mark at dinner. She felt freer and lighter of heart than she had in quite some time.

* * * *

As her first week at Cheney Manor drew to a close, Laura’s contentment had only deepened. The house was comfortable, and the staff, if inexperienced, was willing and pleasant. Mark had set up his charts in the library and was looking less strained with every passing hour. There were only two immediate problems that disturbed Laura’s comfort: she needed a horse to ride, and Robin needed a friend to play with.

Careful inquiry had led her to believe that both of her problems might be solved in one place. The great house of the neighborhood was Wymondham, which belonged to David Wrexham, the Earl of Wymondham. From what Laura had discovered, the Earl had a huge stable of horses—mostly racehorses that he trained himself. And he also had four children, one of whom was about Robin’s age.

Neither the Earl nor the Countess had called on the Dartmouths, a fact that Laura mentioned to one of the visitors who did call to welcome her to the neighborhood.

 “Lady Wymondham never calls on anyone,” Lady Spenser told her with distinct asperity. “Really, as far as neighborhood social life is concerned, Wymondham is a dead loss. All
she
does is paint and hunt.
He
is much more pleasant”—and here Lady Spenser’s face took on a look Laura recognized. She had seen it on women’s faces when they looked at Mark. “But with a wife who is a veritable hermit, what can he do?”

This was rather daunting information, and Laura shared it with Mark. He surprised her by saying he had known the late Earl, Lord Wymondham’s father. “I met him when I was out in Turkey,” he told her. “He was a very impressive man, very interested in our survey, and even more interested in the archaeological finds we were making. He died not long after I met him—caught a bad case of fever. It was a damn shame, because he was a fairly young man.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you knew Lord Wymondham’s father?” Laura asked indignantly.

“You never asked,” he returned reasonably.

“Men are impossible,” his wife announced, surveying him from head to foot. “Well, my lord, tomorrow you can just tear yourself away from your charts and accompany me to Wymondham. Your knowing the late Earl will be a good excuse to call.”

“Not tomorrow,” he said instantly. “I’ve almost finished this one particular chart of Rhodes, and I don’t want to leave it.”

“All right,” she agreed. “Next day?” He sighed. “Next day,” he said. “I promise.”

As it happened, Laura did not have to wait that long to meet at least three members of the Wymondham family. She and Robin went fishing the next day, and as they came out by the river, which separated Cheney Manor from the Wymondham estate, she saw a man and two boys fishing on the opposite side. The man had his back to her, and for a moment of shocked surprise she thought the tall figure was Mark. Then the man turned and she saw it was not.

 “Hullo,” called the younger of the boys. “You must be the new people at Cheney Manor.”

 “Yes,” called back Robin. “We are.”

“Come on over and fish our side,” the older boy invited Robin. “It’s better over here.” Robin flashed Laura a look, and she nodded at him.

“There’s a bridge a short way down the river,” called the man.

“Thank you,” Laura returned, and she and Robin set off to cross over and come back up the other side. As they approached the Earl of Wymondham, for it must be he, Laura thought, she scanned him appraisingly and understood instantly the look on Lady Spenser’s face. He was unquestionably the most beautiful man she had ever beheld in her life.

 He smiled as she approached. “You must be Lady Dartmouth,” he said in a deep, soft voice. “I’m Wymondham.”

Laura held out her hand. “How do you do, my lord. I’m delighted to meet you.”

“I say, I saw you cantering your pony in the north paddock the other day,” the older boy said to Robin. “She’s smashing.”

Robin’s whole face lit up. The boys were introduced as Philip, aged ten, and Richard, aged seven, and by the end of the morning, the three children were wet, dirty, and thoroughly pleased with one another.

 Lord Wymondham, who was extremely nice, chatted idly to Laura, and when he learned she had not brought a horse with her, offered to let her ride one of his. “Come over tomorrow morning and have a look around,” he invited her casually. “Wear a riding skirt and bring Robin. We’ll see what we can do for you.”

“Is Lady Dartmouth going to ride one of our horses, Papa?” Philip asked mischievously.

“Yes, if we can find something to suit her,” he answered pleasantly.

“Wait till Mama hears,” said Philip, and his greenish eyes sparkled with pleasurable anticipation.

Laura was delighted to be going to Wymondham, but she found herself distinctly nervous at the thought of meeting the Countess. Obviously Lady Wymondham was not as friendly as were her husband and children.

Chapter Twenty

Laura dressed in her best riding habit the next day, a beautifully cut bottle-green outfit that she had bought in London the week before she was married and had seldom worn. She excused Mark from going with her—he was obviously dying to get back to his charts—and took Robin along in the phaeton.

 She drew up to the great front door of Wymondham, an impressive stone house set in a stunningly beautiful park, and was directed down to the stables by the butler, who ran down the stairs almost as soon as she pulled up.

The stables at Wymondham were a revelation. There were two huge blocks of barns and acres of enclosed grassy paddocks. The whole area had the busy hum of serious endeavor. A groom came to hold her horses and inform her that Lord and Lady Wymondham were in one of the stalls with an injured horse and would be with her in a moment.

“Hullo, Robin!” came a shout, and Richard came into sight from inside one of the stable blocks. He came jogging over to them and asked eagerly, “Would you like to see my pony?”

“Yes!” answered Robin just as eagerly, and looked at Laura. “May I, Laurie?”

“You can come too, Lady Dartmouth,” the boy said politely.

“Thank you, Richard, but I had better wait for your mother and father.”

Richard cast a speculative look at Laura’s faultlessly clad figure. “Hmn,” he said cryptically through his nose. “I’ll tell them you’re here,” he added with conscious courtesy.

Laura was beginning to thank him again when he interrupted, “Here they are now, Lady Dartmouth.”

 Laura turned her head and saw the tall figure of Lord Wymondham walking toward her across the stableyard. He was accompanied by a small black-haired girl, who held her head with unconscious arrogance.

 But surely this can’t be the mother of Philip, Laura thought in amazement. Why, she can’t be any older than I am.

They had reached her side, and Lord Wymondham smiled. “We’re delighted you could come, Lady Dartmouth,” he said with gentle courtesy. “May I introduce my wife?” He looked down at the black head near his shoulder. “Jane, this is Lady Dartmouth and her son, Robin.”

“How do you do,” said Jane Wrexham in a cool, crisp voice. She shook hands first with Laura and then, to his delight, with Robin. “The boys had a splendid time fishing with you yesterday,” she told him. “Is Dickon going to show you the ponies?”

“Yes, I am, Mama,” her son replied. “Let’s go, Robin.” The two boys went off together in perfect harmony.

“I’m so delighted that Robin has found some children to play with,” Laura said with a smile. “He has been rather lonesome.”

“Yes, they do need a friend,” replied the Countess. “Luckily my boys have each other. We haven’t sent Philip to school; he is studying with our rector. But another companion is always a welcome addition.” She surveyed Laura critically out of extraordinary blue-green eyes. “David tells me you need a horse,” she said. She had not yet smiled. “Why didn’t you bring your own?”

There was something in the tone of the Countess’s voice that was setting up Laura’s back. “I had an accident with my mare a few weeks before we moved, and I never got around to replacing her.”

“Oh,” said Lady Wymondham. She looked even more skeptical than she had before.

“Most of our horses are racehorses and not hacks,” put in Lord Wymondham calmly, “but I’m sure we can find something for you to use until you get your own.”

“Yes,” said Lady Wymondham. “There is always Star.”

There was a flash of amusement in Lord Wymondham’s eyes. “We might do better than Star, Jane,” he murmured.

“I don’t know,” his wife replied. She looked Laura up and down, taking in the immaculate state of her habit. Lady Wymondham herself was wearing a shirt with rolled-up sleeves and what looked to be a divided skirt of ancient origin. “How well do you ride?” she asked Laura bluntly.

Laura’s back was straight as a ramrod. “Very well,” she answered crisply.

“Well, let’s go out to the paddock,” said Lord Wymondham. “We’ll see how you do on Cassandra.”

Lady Wymondham glanced quickly up at her husband, but did not protest. The three of them proceeded to go to the first paddock, and the mare was brought. Laura automatically checked the girth and then allowed herself to be helped into the sidesaddle. She walked the mare around the paddock a few times and then moved into a trot. From the trot they went into an effortless canter.

 The mare’s paces were beautiful, her mouth like silk. After a few turns Laura pulled up before the Wymondhams, who were leaning against the gate watching her. “She’s just lovely,” she said, patting the mare’s glossy chestnut neck.

 With a start she realized that Lady Wymondham was smiling at her. “It was your clothes that put me off,” she said. “They look so new. I do beg your pardon.”

Laura found herself smiling back. “So I’m not to be given Star?”

“Star? For a rider like you?” Lady Wymondham looked horrified. “He’s good only for children.”

Lord Wymondham looked amused. “Jane doesn’t mean to be insulting,” he said, putting a brief hand on the nape of his wife’s neck. “She’s just rather brutally honest.”