Sally James (24 page)

Luckily Annabelle did not seem to expect answers other than the occasional nod and brief word, for she chattered away at great speed, and in any case the conversation round the table soon became informal so that Kate's silence was not remarked.

The men did not remain long over their port, soon rejoining the ladies. Margaret, accompanying herself on the pianoforte, was painstakingly plodding her way through some Scottish ballads. Her mother, somewhat complacently, proclaimed they were her favourite songs, and didn't Adam love them.

Adam nodded politely and went to sit where he could see Annabelle but not Margaret. Kate was almost amused.

'Very good, my dear,' Sir George said after a while, 'but let Annabelle take a turn now. Her taste is more for modern songs,' he said to Miss Byford, who was sitting beside him engaged in doing some embroidery, 'and although I should not compare the two girls, Annabelle has a most charming voice.'

With a pretty, but only brief, show of reluctance, Annabelle took her sister's place, and Adam went to stand beside her and turn over the music. She did, Kate had to concede, have an enchanting, slightly husky voice, not very strong but pure and true.

After she had sung several songs Adam joined her in some duets, and his deep baritone mingled most pleasingly with her voice. Kate caught Mrs Rhydd looking wistful during one song, a plaintive love duet, and found herself growing increasingly angry.

He admired Annabelle, that was obvious. She made no secret of her own attraction to him. She was widely regarded as his mistress. She stole a glance at Mr Wilson, who was smiling at them with apparently impartial approval. How could either he or Mrs Rhydd view their friendship with such complacency, even pleasure? They looked so obviously like young lovers infatuated with one another. Yet Adam had announced his determination to marry her.

Why, she asked herself repeatedly. Was it just to pander to an old man's whim, to calm a dying man's fears? Yet if he loved Annabelle as he appeared to do, and his attitude of gentle protectiveness towards her, and her blatant admiration of him, made that the only sensible explanation, how could he contemplate marrying anyone else?

Because she was not free, and he needed an heir. He felt constrained by his promise to her grandfather. How ridiculous, Kate raged to herself. Two people, neither of whom wished to marry, forced into it by an unreasonable promise extracted from one of them by a stubborn, but dying man who had not disdained to use unfair coercion to get his own way. Besides, she had no wish to be just a brood mare.

When, and if, she married, she told herself, it would be because the man loved her as much as she loved him. When she made vows of fidelity she intended to keep them, and she expected him - whoever he might be - to do the same. She tried to imagine this so-far unknown man, but to her annoyance Adam's face kept coming between herself and her shadowy vision.

Then she was recalled to the present by Lady Fernleigh speaking to her.

'Miss Byford, or may I call you Kate? Do you play and sing? Pray entertain us, for am sure everyone has had quite enough of my daughters.'

Kate tried to refuse, but Mrs Rhydd began to praise her voice, and she had to comply. Luckily she could play the songs she chose without thinking about them. Adam had moved away with Annabelle and sat beside her on the sopha, which was so small that of necessity they had to sit very close together. Kate's attention was on them far more than it was on the music.

'Charming, indeed,' Sir George said when she had finished. 'Come here and tell me something about yourself. Will you be coming out this Season, or does your aunt feel that your grandfather's death prohibits it?'

'I - I am not sure,' Kate replied. 'I shall still be in mourning, of course.' At least he didn't take it for granted she would be marrying Adam.

'Yes, a great pity, for you would take London by storm in pretty clothes,' he continued. 'I remember your Mama, one of the greatest beauties of her day. Everyone said she had thrown herself away on your Papa, but they were very happy, I understand?'

'Yes, I believe so, but Papa died before I knew him,' Kate said, smiling at his kindness.

'That's right, marry for love, I always tell my girls. I did, and never regretted it. All this old fashioned nonsense about fortunes and rank matching, what use is that if the couple concerned are miserable? Annabelle was fortunate,' he went on, and Kate could not prevent the astonished look she gave him. If he thought that was he either blind or quite immune to gossip? Probably both, she decided. 'Not that I would agree to Margaret marrying a footman or a dancing master, though!' he added with a guffaw. 'There have to be some limits! But I'll not stand in her way when she meets the right man, though she does not seem to have met anyone yet, and she's over twenty now,' he added with what might have been a sigh, and a long, steady look at Adam's oblivious back.

Suddenly Kate wondered if he hoped to substitute Margaret in Annabelle's place in Adam's affections. Did he know the truth of his older daughter's liaison with Adam? It wasn't possible! If he did, how could he possibly contemplate thrusting the younger, less confident, less pretty daughter into Adam's arms, where Annabelle had so obviously been?

To Kate's relief she was rescued without having to find any reply by the entry of Jenkins with the tea tray. She excused herself to help pass round the cups. Afterwards she found a place beside Margaret where she hoped she would be safe from further paternal confidences she had no wish to hear.

In the morning, trusting that the men at least would be up and she would not be alone with Adam, she abandoned her tray and descended to the dining room. Mr Wilson was the only other person present, and she had a desperate urge to ask him why he did not forbid his wife's intimacy with Adam.

He appeared quite content, though, speaking composedly of both Adam and his wife. He was explaining that though Annabelle preferred to spend most of her time in London, he chose to live in the country, when Adam came in.

'Adam, I see you’ve already been out.'

Adam turned from where he was helping himself to ham at the sideboard. 'Just a short ride, to see the fellow who lives at the Home farm. I am still looking forward to our ride later on.'

'Then I'd better go and change while you eat. Annabelle's still fast asleep. She stayed up for hours last night talking to her mother.'

Kate glanced sceptically at Adam, who seemed unmoved by this information. Kate would have liked to ask Lady Fernleigh at just what hour she had parted from her daughter, and she would have hazarded all her new gowns on the certainty that Adam and Annabelle had been together. She positively quivered with suppressed anger.

Mr Wilson departed, and she would have loved to follow, but she had a large plate covered with slices of beef and had just poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. It would have looked too pointed, and she was not going to let Adam think she was in any way afraid of him.

'It simply draws unwelcome attention if one makes a fuss, or tries to refuse,' he said affably as he brought his plate to sit beside her.

Kate gaped. He grinned and put a finger under her chin, gently closing her mouth. She jerked her head away.

'What are you talking about?' she demanded.

'A gently reared lady may make a slight demur when invited to sing or play the pianoforte,' he explained patiently, 'but it should be no more than one brief hesitation. When someone persists in their request, it is best to comply at once. Last night you drew a certain amount of attention to yourself when you resisted for so long. It does not make you more interesting. It is merely tiresome.'

It was too much. Kate flung down her napkin and jumped to her feet, oblivious of the chair which clattered to the floor as she knocked it over.

'I am heartily sick of your instructions!' she raged. 'If you want a wife who has been brought up to fulfil your very exacting standards, why don't you go and choose one from one of the best Academies? I am sure Mrs Johnson would be happy to parade her very amenable and - and insipid pupils for your choice! Any of them would think it an honour to marry you, and would put up with being used merely to bring future earls into the world, while the rest of the time you sported with - with trollops like - '

'Sir George, do come in,' Adam interrupted smoothly. He had picked up Kate's chair and was holding it for her. She glared impartially at him and Sir George, who was looking concerned, and with a muttered excuse about feeling ill ran from the room.

How much had he heard? She was red with mortification at her loss of control. She ran along one of the passages towards a back set of stairs, praying she would meet no one before she gained the sanctuary of her room. At least Adam had interrupted her before she had accused Annabelle of being a trollop in front of Annabelle's doting father. But it must have been perfectly obvious they were arguing, and the subject was a decidedly odd one for her, an unmarried girl, to be so heated about.

When she was certain Adam and the other men would have left the house, she forced herself to go back downstairs. Much as she would have liked either to crawl into a hole or to flee the house, neither option was practicable. She had to face them again. If she could behave normally for a few hours with the ladies perhaps her composure would return, and she could look at Adam without cringing in embarrassment.

To her relief she discovered several more guests were expected that day, and the next few hours were busy as they arrived. Kate was able to avoid Annabelle, who retreated to one of the small saloons saying she detested the bustle of new arrivals. First to come were a family whose mother was a cousin of Mrs Rhydd, with three young men aged from eighteen to twenty two, whose expressions lightened considerably when they saw Kate.

Two more young couples followed, both neighbours, and Mrs Rhydd explained it had been the custom to invite several of the neighbouring families to join them for Christmas.

'But this year Adam restricted it mainly to the younger people,' Mrs Rhydd said. 'He thought it would be too soon after your grandfather's death to ask the usual number. Also,' she added, rather reluctantly, Kate thought, 'he said it would be less intimidating for you to have younger people to meet on your first house party.'

Kate knew Adam's mother deplored his determination to marry her, and she was tempted to ask the older woman for help. Then it occurred to her that no fond mother would appreciate being told that her son's intended bride had no wish to accept the honour of marrying him.

The last guests to arrive came together, one of the men riding his own horse, the others crammed together in a huge travelling coach with their offspring. The rider was a tall blond giant, Adam's age, and was introduced as Sir Robert Kenton. He owned a small property nearby and he and Adam had been at school and in the army together. The others were older, brothers in their forties, and Kate assumed they had been invited to even up the numbers and be company for Mrs Rhydd and her aunt. They were both widowers. The younger one, Mr Augustus Castleford, had pretty twin daughters, a year or two younger than Kate. The other, Sir Edward, brought a daughter of ten and a son of six, who were dispatched with their nurse to the old schoolroom with a promise that they could ride the ponies later.

By the time Adam and Mr Wilson joined them the guests had made themselves at home, and several different groups had formed in the drawing room. Kate felt safe. And then she caught sight of her aunt's expression and her world turned upside down again.

Chapter Twenty

The Christmas festivities at Malvern Court were somewhat muted that year, Mrs Rhydd explained repeatedly to everyone, in deference to the old Earl's death. For Kate, however, who had never experienced any domestic jollifications more exciting than a party given by the Squire, they seemed lavish and never ending.

Her only cause for concern, apart from the eternal one of Adam, was the odd behaviour of her aunt. From being a much older, almost matronly figure despite her still slender form and youthful looks, Miss Byford had become, and Kate disapprovingly thought there was no other word to describe it, skittish.

For a while she had not been able to determine which of the Castleford brothers was responsible for this change, as they were almost always together. Gradually, keeping a close but unobtrusive eye on them, she concluded it was Sir Edward who had wrought this amazing alteration in her aunt's behaviour.

For the first time Kate considered properly what her aunt had sacrificed, first to care for her mother after her father had died, then to devote herself to bringing her up. Was Sir Edward a former lover? Had Aunt Sophie sent him away, or had they never reached the point of a declaration? Whichever it was, Miss Byford had given up all hope of marriage when she cut herself off from the world.

They gave no outward sign they were more than old acquaintances, and Kate never found them closeted together or stealing into the grounds to walk privately when the weather permitted. It was the fact that Miss Byford began to wear the few jewels she possessed more frequently, did her hair in a different, younger style, and was often to be discovered staring into space with a dreamy smile on her lips.

Sir Edward was a widower. If he wanted to marry her aunt there was nothing to stop him, nothing apart from Miss Byford's sense of responsibility towards herself. Her dreams of returning to their cottage and resuming their unexciting life there, which, if Adam refused to give her her grandfather's money, had seemed the only alternative to marriage with him, gradually faded. She could not ask her aunt to make such a sacrifice again. And since she was determined not to marry Adam she had to find another solution.

However, Kate had little time for such reflections. More than twenty house guests ensured there were always activities arranged which people could join or not as they chose. The younger members of the party, when they were not riding or shooting, playing billiards or dancing, were rehearsing, with much hilarity, for a performance of selected scenes from Shakespeare planned for the last evening before most of the guests departed.