Scandal at the Dower House (12 page)

‘Well, you can spend some of the time in London this Season. It will be a busy one, now the wars are over.’

‘Unless half the people go off to Paris. And many of my friends died at Waterloo.’

Nicholas nodded. ‘That does not mean you have to give up your own pleasures.’

‘Are you going up soon?’

‘I’m opening the town house for Olivia, if I can find a suitable matron to introduce her.’

‘Not Aunt Clara?’

Nicholas laughed. ‘She feels it necessary to visit Paris this year. Perhaps my offer to pay her expenses influenced her decision. No, I want someone more sympathetic. Olivia is shy, she needs to be encouraged rather than chastised all the time.’

‘It’s a great pity you haven’t yet got into parson’s mousetrap. Then your wife could present Olivia.’

Catarina had never had a Season herself, and she had spent little time in London, so would not know the right people. That would not do. Nicholas shook his head.

‘I have a couple of dowagers in mind, who will do it for a fee. Of course I must be in town for her ball, but otherwise my plans are uncertain.’

Until, he said to himself, he knew whether Catarina would accept his offer. If she did he would urge a speedy marriage.

* * * *

Catarina pondered for a long time over what she could do to help the villagers. She understood Jeremy’s desire to change things. Walter had been intending to do much the same, but Walter would have done it slowly, talked to the villagers, and persuaded them to his views before making the changes. He would not have allowed anyone to suffer. He had done this with regard to the cottages and the draining of the marsh. And he had been a much older man, with less time to achieve what he desired, she thought with a regretful sigh. He’d had less time than he’d anticipated. Jeremy was so much younger, but in so great a hurry.

Ought she to visit him or ask him to come to her? She had not seen him since she arrived home. She was reluctant to go up to the Grange in case she met Nicholas. She had ceased thinking of him as Lord Brooke. His greeting, his words, his calling her his ‘darling’, had at first startled her, and then, when she had been unable to sleep for thinking of their significance, delighted her. She had not expected another opportunity for marriage to come to her, unless it was an offer from Sir Humphrey, and that she would certainly refuse.

Until now she had thought she would refuse any offer, and when she had seen a tentative admiration in her cousin Antonio’s eyes she had rejected the very idea that he might wish to marry her. Now she was not so certain. She was still only five and twenty, no debutante, but young enough to marry again. Had Nicholas’s words indicated he meant to make an offer, or had they just been the friendly greeting of a cousin?

It was a cold, wet day again, and as she sat before the fire in the front half of the big drawing room she dismissed her thoughts during the night as ridiculous dreams, foolish imaginings. Nicholas had his pick of eager young debutantes, and since he had reached the age of thirty without succumbing to any of their blandishments, or feeling the need to marry and produce an heir, why should he choose an older woman? But he would want an heir eventually, and he would think her barren when there had been no child during her eight years of marriage with Walter. He would not know, and how could she tell him, that they had never lived as man and wife.

She was trimming one of Maria’s dresses with coloured ribbon when Staines announced a visitor. It was Sir Humphrey. She tucked the dress into her sewing basket and rose to greet him.

‘I did not expect any visitors while this rain lasted,’ she said, giving him her hand.

‘That’s why I came today. Thought I had a chance of finding you alone. And I drove over in the carriage, so I’m not wet, even if my horses are. I sent them round to the stables, knew you would not object.’

‘Of course not, and I trust your coachman will go to the kitchen for something to warm him. Would you prefer wine, or coffee, Sir Humphrey.’

‘Nothing, thank you my dear. I don’t want any distractions from what I have to say. Catarina, it’s over a year since poor Walter died, and I wouldn’t have spoken before now, even if you hadn’t been away, and despite my eagerness. But you’re a young woman still, you ought to have the protection of a husband, be able to go out in Society and enjoy yourself, not hide yourself away in a small village miles from London.’

‘I have no intention of hiding myself away,’ Catarina interrupted, suspecting what was coming and wanting, if she could, to deflect it.

‘A widow cannot entertain or go out in Society in the same way a married woman can. You must know that. And you are still young, and beautiful. My dear, you are wealthy with what your father and Walter left you. You’ll be prey to all sorts of unscrupulous fortune hunters, and you’re not up to snuff. You need a man’s protection.’

For a wild moment Catarina wondered just what sort of protection Sir Humphrey was offering.

‘I may not be familiar with London Society, but I think I can tell whether men want me for my fortune or not,’ she said, and then almost giggled.

Sir Humphrey was no more than comfortably off. Chase Manor was just a small manor house, and he owned no other. Nor was his estate large. If he went to London, which was seldom, he stayed in an hotel, not possessing a town house, and in Bath he hired apartments in one of the best hotels. Could he possibly be thinking as much of her money as of herself?

‘My dear, take it from me, you need a man’s protection, that of a husband, and I am begging you to permit me to become that husband.’

‘I — I do not wish to marry again, Sir Humphrey,’ Catarina managed. And especially not another elderly man, she added to herself. ‘I am flattered by your offer, but I must refuse. I esteem you, of course, and you have been a good friend to both me and Walter, but friendship is all I can accept from you.’

He did not appear at all put out.

‘I am too soon. It is just as I expected, and I respect your honesty, your reverence for Walter’s memory, but he would not wish you to languish, a widow for the rest of your days. I will not speak of it again, just yet, but I know you will come to agree that becoming my wife will be the best for you. Now I must go, I have other calls to make.’

She avoided the kiss he attempted to drop on her forehead, and moved quickly to ring the bell for Staines. As soon as Sir Humphrey was out of the room she collapsed into her chair and tried to stifle her giggles. She had been daydreaming about another proposal, one that would, she admitted, have been far more welcome. How could she avoid Sir Humphrey’s threat to repeat his? It was a threat, she acknowledged. She’d known him for so long, and recognized he was a stubborn man, prepared to hammer away at whatever he desired until the sheer weight of his persistence wore down the opposition.

Needing to calm herself she went up to the bedroom which had been turned into a nursery for Maria. Playing with her little niece, watching the baby smile as she clutched at the coloured ribbons and balls hung above her crib, always delighted her. She thought sadly of what Joanna was missing, and wondered yet again at her sister’s unfeeling attitude towards her own daughter. Many women, she knew, sent their little ones to a wet nurse, often a villager near their country houses, and did not have them in their own homes for years. They might see them only occasionally until the children were a few years old. It was something she had never been able to understand. Watching Maria, and the almost daily changes in her, was a constant source of wonder.

How could she deter Sir Humphrey? He would come back, she knew. Marry someone else, said an insidious little inner voice. If Nicholas proposed, would she accept? Did she feel fondly enough towards him? Was it love she felt for him or just a sort of satisfaction that an attractive, eligible man appeared to want her? Did she love him in the consuming way Joanna appeared to love her Eduardo? She had not decided by the time she went to bed, and told herself she was worrying about nothing, since Lord Brooke would, when he married, want a well-connected young girl as his bride.

* * * *

Before Nicholas could go to the Dower House again he received a message from Brooke Court that Olivia had suffered a fall from her horse. It was not serious, Miss Shipton said, just some bruising, but the message sent both of her brothers hastening to her side.

Olivia was shaken, badly bruised, but no bones were broken and the doctor said she would soon recover.

‘It will not prevent our going to London, will it?’ she asked, anxious. Her debut had been delayed once because she had suffered from an attack of measles soon after Christmas. ‘The bruises don’t show, and I will not be so stiff in a few days. Have you found someone to chaperone me yet? I was hoping to be in London by the beginning of May when Princess Charlotte marries Prince Leopold. I think that’s so romantic, that she refused the man her father wanted and chose him.’

‘I’ve written to Lady Mortimer, Mama’s cousin. Do you remember her? I am expecting a reply any day now. But I will send the servants to open up the house so it will be ready for us whenever we wish to go.’

Olivia gave a sigh of relief. ‘I was so hoping it would not have to be Aunt Clara after all.’

Nicholas grinned. ‘Don’t worry, I will find someone even if Lady Mortimer cannot oblige.’

The next day he received that lady’s reply, which was favourable. She wrote she could start for London in a week’s time and go straight to Grosvenor Square. Olivia insisted she would able to travel in a few days, so he left her in the care of Jeremy and Miss Shipton while he made a quick visit to London to ensure everything was in readiness, and to learn what was happening in Parliament. Seeing Catarina would have to be postponed for a while, but as soon as Olivia was installed in London he could return to see her.

He had been somewhat shocked by his instinctive reaction on meeting her, and relief that she was well and safely back home. Despite his numerous liaisons, he had never before been in love, which was what he supposed his feelings for Catarina were. Those liaisons he had always treated lightly, diversions similar to a game of cards or a day at the races. But he knew deep within himself that Catarina would be far more than that, and the thought of possibly losing her, if she married someone else, was unbearable.

He had been made aware of Sir Humphrey’s proprietorial attitude towards her when they had both been at the Dower House. Whether it was fatherly or something warmer he had not been able to judge. But surely Catarina would never again marry an old man? She had, at sixteen, had little choice, and she seemed to have been content with Walter, and sorry when he died. If she had freedom to choose, would she not prefer a man nearer her own age?

She had not repulsed his kiss. Perhaps she had been too startled, and the rain had started so soon afterwards there had not been time for anything but running into the house. Then Sir Humphrey had appeared, and any chance he might have had of talking to her vanished.

He fretted all the way to London, had to ask his Grosvenor Square housekeeper to repeat some of her questions, and paid little heed to the debates in the House. When Lady Mortimer arrived he was distracted, and more than once she asked him if he had heard what she said.

‘You seem like a man in love,’ she commented after dinner the first evening she was there. ‘Who’s the gal? Yet I gather you have been down in the country. Don’t tell me some country miss has achieved what none of the debutantes of the past dozen years has managed.’

‘Very well, then, cousin, I won’t.’

She laughed. ‘I shall be watching you with more than normal interest. You will be coming back to Town soon, I hope.’

‘Once Olivia is settled with you, I must go home for a while. Jeremy may stay, but he is having difficulties at Marshington. The people do not want to accept the reforms he is proposing.’

‘Marshington? The Grange? Of course, you inherited the estate last year, did you not?’

‘And I have given it to Jeremy. Or I will do as soon as the formalities of breaking the entail are completed.’

‘I believe Sir Walter left a young and, if reports can be believed, beautiful widow,’ she said slowly, and suddenly laughed. ‘I shall look forward to meeting her. No doubt she will be coming to London now her year of mourning is over. I shall insist you present her to me.’

‘If she does come,’ he replied, trying to sound as though it mattered nothing to him one way or the other. ‘I believe her house in Mount Street is let. Now, have we settled all the details about Olivia? You will choose a day for her ball when you have had time to see what else has been planned by other debutantes’ mothers. Have her bills sent to me, but no doubt there will be occasional expenses, so if the amount I have given you is insufficient let me know. I have no idea how much a comeout will cost, but I don’t want Olivia to economize.’

‘I shall have great pleasure in spending your money, Nicholas. You have far too much!’

* * * *

The day after Sir Humphrey’s proposal Sir Ivor Norton arrived at the Dower House. For once it was not raining and Catarina was in the garden, talking to her head gardener about the vegetables she wanted him to plant.

‘Though it’s been so wet the ground’s not fit,’ he said.

‘Well, do what you can, when you can, and if you really think it would help to extend the glasshouses along this wall, arrange to have it done. I confess I would miss my early peas and potatoes, and would be happy if you can make them grow under glass.’

‘The little ‘un will be ready to enjoy some by then, well mashed up,’ he said. ‘My missus says it don’t do to keep them just on milk, like some do, and she’s reared six.’

‘I’m sure she will enjoy them,’ Catarina began, when she was interrupted by a harsh voice haranguing someone.

She heard him before, with a sinking heart, she turned to face Sir Ivor who was striding down the path towards her, followed by Staines.

‘Catarina, I wish to speak with you. Tell this fool to stop bleating and go and order some refreshment. It’s a long drive from Bristol.’