Sally James (7 page)

“Keep into the bank,” Mary called, hearing the sound of a horse approaching, and the children obeyed her, turning and waiting for her to reach them. She smiled approvingly at them and gave them her hands, just as the horseman drew level and a well-remembered voice addressed her.

“A charming picture, Miss Wyndham,” she heard, and swung round to look up into the laughing eyes of Sir Ingram Leigh.

“What are you doing here?” she asked, astonished. “I thought you would have gone back to London.”

“Then you have been thinking of me?” he asked, and she frowned in annoyance.

“I cannot help wondering about Teresa,” she retorted.

“Oh, what a set down, when I had assumed it was myself you were concerned with. Rest content, she arrived safely and is chained hand and foot in an underground dungeon, fed on bread and water and regularly thrashed twice a day, three times if she complains of ill treatment!”

“Ooh!” came in awed accents from Peter, fascinated by this strange man.

“He is bamming you,” Mary said crossly. “I pray you will not frighten the children, Sir Ingram!”

“They are too big to be afraid. Would you like to ride on my horse?”

Both Peter and Jane clamoured for this treat, and Sir Ingram swung himself out of the saddle and lifted them both up, adjuring Peter to hold on to his sister. Then, looping the reins over his arm, he walked along beside Mary.

“She is sulking, as is my dear Aunt Cecy, but they will both soon find consolation,” he told her, and she did not ask whether this referred to Matthew, or whether Sir Ingram had seen him before leaving Cheltenham.

“It was kind of you to ride over this way and tell me,” she said stiffly, at which he laughed.

“Oh, I have not the slightest interest in them, as long as they cause me no trouble,” he responded lightly. “I came back to stay with the Wards since they very kindly pressed me to extend my visit. I was not acquainted with this part of the country previously, and find it has many attractions. You have lived here all your life, I understand?”

He maintained an easy flow of conversation, and Mary relaxed, responding to his remarks, and scarcely aware of her surroundings until they reached the gates of the manor. Then he halted, and smiled down at her.

“I must leave you here, Miss Wyndham. May I call and talk again with your father one day?”

“I am sure he would welcome it,” she replied, and he smiled again, then turned to lift down the excited children.

He mounted, and with a wave had turned and departed the way they had come. Mary walked once more along the manor drive, but this time, although she did not think of it, her unaccountable dejection had disappeared.

On the following day Caroline was completely better, and she and Mary went for a ride, as they often did. They had just enjoyed a gallop over a stretch of open country and reined in when a hail came from another group of riders who had just appeared from a patch of woodland. It was Paul and Belinda Ward, with Sir Ingram, and they rode over and exchanged greetings.

“We were coming to bring an invitation for you,” Belinda said merrily. She was several years younger than Mary, and had only this year emerged from the schoolroom, so neither Mary nor Caroline knew her as well as they did her brother. Now Mary looked at her with renewed interest. She was small, with a heart-shaped face, honey-gold curls, and laughing blue eyes. The horse she rode was a restive animal, and pranced about as they talked, but she sat him with superb ease, obviously totally in control.

“My mother asks you all to dine tomorrow evening,” Paul explained. “Just a small party. Can you come?”

“We would love to,” Caroline replied. “Mary?”

“Yes, and thank you,” Mary said.

“Then we will bring Mary with us,” Caroline arranged briskly.

After a few more remarks they separated, and Caroline was unusually silent on the way home. Mary was afraid the ride had tired her, and suggested she should go straight home instead of remaining for the rest of the day as they had planned, so that Caroline could rest.

“Oh, do not be concerned. I am completely better,” Caroline protested. “I was thinking, that is all.”

“But these headaches are getting worse, are they not?” Mary persisted anxiously.

“Yes, and I have had one or two severe ones lately,” Caroline admitted. “They are abominable at the time, but there are no effects the next day. Belinda is pretty, is she not?” she asked abruptly.

“I have not seen her often recently, only at your party, in fact. She has certainly changed from the schoolgirl she was.”

“Sir Ingram seemed impressed. He danced with her twice at the party.”

“He is obviously susceptible to feminine charms,” Mary replied tartly, and Caroline smiled to herself and changed the subject.

The following day they drove to Abbey Court, the home of the Ward family, to find a group of twenty or so assembled for the dinner party, mostly young people who were nearly all known to Mary. As she entered the parlour Mary glanced quickly round, and then hastily turned her head away as she saw Sir Ingram leaning over Belinda’s chair. Furious with herself for being concerned with his actions, she contrived to avoid him until they went into dinner, when she found herself seated beside him with Belinda on his other side.

“You appear cross,” he said softly to her as they sat down, and chuckled at her glance of annoyance. “It must be very provoking to have to be polite to me when you are longing to tell me what a monster you consider me. Teresa was voluble on the journey, and left me in no doubt as to what she had told you of her side of the story. How much did you believe?”

“I am sure she exaggerated somewhat,” Mary replied as coolly as she could, and he laughed again, and turned to reply to a remark of Belinda’s.

Scrupulously polite, he divided his attention between the two girls, but Mary, while conversing with her other neighbour, could not fail to be aware of how well he seemed to be getting on with Belinda.

Other people noticed it too, and there were many whispers to that effect when, dinner over, Mrs Ward arranged for dancing in one of her parlours, and Sir Ingram led out Belinda for the first set.

“They say he had ten thousand a year, or more,” one of the girls said to Mary. “Belinda will do well for herself if she can capture him! I wonder where they met?”

“I understand he is Paul’s friend,” Mary replied as casually as she could contrive.

“He seems more interested in Belinda now, at any event,” was the response to this, and Mary had to admit to herself that it was true. Sir Ingram danced with several other girls, but did not approach Mary, and later he danced again with Belinda, who looked radiantly beautiful in a cream and gold gown that suited her to perfection. Mary tried not to notice that after this dance Sir Ingram and Belinda disappeared for a while, and chided herself for being disturbed by it. On the drive home she was unusually silent, but Caroline forbore from comment, and only later, in the privacy of their bedroom, remarked to her husband that she thought Mary would do better for herself than Geoffrey Knowle after all.

“Oh? Whom do you mean? Paul Ward? He does seem attentive, I agree, but then he has known Mary all her life and never before shown any partiality for her.”

“Not Paul, you simpleton,” Caroline laughed. “I meant Sir Ingram.”

“Sir Ingram Leigh?” Arthur said in amazement. “But he spent most of the time with Belinda!”

“Poof! That means nothing! It’s either a blind or a ploy to make her jealous. I’m sure that as yet she has no idea.”

“Well, neither had I,” Arthur said with a laugh. “It’s all in your imagination, my love.”

“You haven’t seen him looking at her when he thinks no one is watching,” his spouse asserted with supreme confidence. “He certainly did not return to the Wards for the sake of Belinda’s charms! You wait!”

Arthur began to think his wife might be right when, on the following day, Sir Ingram appeared at the manor.

“Are you expecting Mary this afternoon, my love?” he asked, and received a blank look from his love.

“Oh, she often drops in, but there was nothing arranged,” Caroline replied airily, and turned to her guest with a query about London.

After a time Arthur excused himself, saying he needed to see to some matters on the farm, and Caroline offered to show Sir Ingram her gardens. They were in the rose garden when Mary appeared.

“Oh, I was not aware you were here, Sir Ingram,” she exclaimed.

“Or you would have gone away again, no doubt,” he said softly as he took her hand and held it close for a moment. “I have been admiring Mrs Grafton’s roses,” he went on in a louder voice, and turned back to Caroline to ask when she recommended pruning her bushes.

They went indoors and Caroline dispensed tea. She and Sir Ingram bore the brunt of the conversation, for Mary seemed abstracted. Caroline, more than ever convinced that her conjecture was correct, secretly rejoiced for her friend.

Eventually Mary said she must return home, and Sir Ingram instantly offered to escort her. While they were waiting for his horse to be brought round from the stables, Mr Knowle was announced.

“Why, Mr Knowle, it’s an age since you have called on me,” Caroline greeted him. “You shall stay and keep me company, for Mary and Sir Ingram are deserting me! How are the preparations for your removal coming along?”

Mr Knowle did not appear to be anxious to stay, but politeness forced him to appear nonchalant as he watched the other two leave, and Caroline bore him inexorably back into the drawing room.

“How long do you intend to remain with the Wards?” Mary asked, when they had covered half the distance towards her own home and she felt that the silence had become unbearable.

“I have not yet decided. It depends on many things, including the behaviour of my dear cousin.”

“Have you heard from Teresa? How is she?”

“I do not anticipate hearing from Teresa until she is frightened of the number of bills she has accumulated, and needs me to pay them for her,” he rejoined. “However, Aunt Hermione writes that she is well, and that your brother pays her assiduous attentions. I must admit that she has shown a preference for him for longer than I might have expected. For his sake I hope that it is not merely to demonstrate to me how badly I misjudge her!”

They had reached Mary’s gate by now, and she suggested he might care to visit her father.

“I thank you, but not today. I had not realised it was so late, and have promised to return in time to escort Belinda to a party one of her friends is giving.”

They parted, and Mary tried to distract herself from thoughts of Sir Ingram paying compliments to Belinda Ward by taking down from the shelves in the parlour those books which she and Matthew kept there, and vigorously banging them to dislodge the dust that clung to them. Engrossed in her task she looked up with surprise when Susan announced a visitor, for she had not heard the door bell.

“Mr Knowle, Miss.”

She rose to her feet, somewhat dishevelled, and smiled nervously. He had not spoken to her alone since the night of the Graftons’ party more than two weeks earlier, but as he was leaving Appleacre in less than a month, she knew that it could not be delayed much longer.

“Forgive me, I am not prepared for a visitor,” she said flustered.

“I do not mean to remain more than a few minutes, so pray do not disturb yourself. I came, my dear, to ask for an answer to the question I put to you some time ago. I think I have given you ample time to consider it, and hope that your answer will be what I so earnestly desire to hear.”

A confident smile on his face, he walked across the room and tried to take her hands in his, but she evaded him and slipped behind a chair.

“No. Mr Knowle, I am aware you will think me totally lacking in all consideration for you, but truly I cannot answer you! I esteem you, indeed I do, but I do not believe that I love you! “

He smiled, no whit put out. “That is not to be expected, my dear Mary. Indeed, I deplore those feelings which are romantically described as love, and indulged in by the unmarried. What can they know of true married love, sanctified by God? Their love, so called, is but a fever of the blood and a sin to be condemned by all right thinking persons. When we are married, love will come, have no fear.”

Mary shook her head wanting to protest that he was wrong, but unable to find words to frame her thoughts. His smile grew a little less confident.

“I am leaving soon, Mary, and would like to begin preparing my new home to receive you. When will you marry me?”

“I have not said that I will!” she exclaimed. “Indeed, I am honoured that you should ask me, should think me worthy of your lo - your regard, but I am not sure that I could live up to your expectations.”

“I will be the judge of that, if only you will allow it. Now, may I tell your father you have agreed to make me happy?”

“No. I beg you not to presume too early. I - I cannot give you an answer today!”

Angrily he stared at her. “I see how it is! You have had your head turned by that fashion plate from London! You imagine he is paying court to you, and in your innocence do not realise you are just one of many that he sports with! Do not be a fool, Mary! Marry me, and do not hope for anything but dalliance from Sir Ingram Leigh!”

“He is
not
a fashion plate,” she protested, as angry as he was. “And there has been no dalliance, as you so insultingly infer! He has no more thought to pay court to me than I have of receiving it. You had best go, Mr Knowle, before we both say things we would afterwards regret!”

She left the room precipitously, disregarded his attempt to call her back. Running up the stairs, she locked herself into her room and angrily flung herself down onto her bed. Hateful! Oh, how hateful to have him accuse her of dalliance - odious word - with Sir Ingram, who was more interested in Belinda Ward than he had ever been in her! The accusations did not even have the merit of being true, and she felt doubly insulted at the thought she should be so misjudged. Furiously she fought back the tears, and strove to calm herself, but she could not refrain from seeing in her mind pictures of Sir Ingram, and recalling his laughing eyes and attractive smile.