The Girl in the Gatehouse (17 page)
While Captain Bryant exchanged greetings with Dixon, Mariah slid the book from the table onto her lap.
“Excuse me, I did not mean to intrude,” he said, shifting the basket he held to his other arm.
“Never mind,” Dixon said. “We are only doing a bit of celebrating.”
“Oh? Celebrating what?”
They all looked at Mariah.
She faltered, “I . . . that is . . . does one need an excuse to celebrate?”
“Normally, yes.”
Mariah noticed the speculative challenge in his eyes. What could she say without giving away her secret?
Martin leaned back in his chair and casually crossed his arms. “It is my birthday, Captain. I don’t like a fuss, but there’s no reasoning with women. Not when they’ve got their minds set on something.”
Mariah was surprised and relieved at Martin’s quick thinking. Or was it true?
“Well. Happy birthday, Mr. Martin.” The captain directed his disconcerted and disconcerting gaze on Mariah. “I shan’t keep you. I have caught several trout and a few grayling as well. More than Cook can use at present. I thought you might like them.”
“That was very kind of you, Captain Bryant. Was that not kind, Dixon?”
Dixon nodded vigorously. “Very.”
Captain Bryant eyed Henry, who nodded a greeting, but no one offered an introduction.
“Martin has made a cake,” Mariah said brightly instead. “Will you not join us, Captain?”
“I thank you, no. I had no intention of intruding on your . . . celebration.” He set the fish basket on the sideboard, gave a curt bow, and let himself out.
An awkward silence followed his departure. Henry and Mariah regarded one another somberly as Dixon busied herself with the fish and Martin rose to help her.
“Tell him what you must, Rye,” Henry said. “I had rather risk my small inheritance than your reputation.”
Mariah shook her head. “No, Henry.”
“It’s all right.”
Mariah blew out a puff of air. Excusing herself, she threw on a shawl and ran sprightly outside and toward the great house, careful to avoid the worst of the puddles.
She saw him ahead on the curved drive.
“Captain Bryant, wait!”
He turned and stood where he was as she approached. She noticed with chagrin that he did not meet her partway, nor with a welcoming smile.
“May I ask, Captain,” she began, pausing to catch her breath, “if you have any acquaintance in Cambridgeshire?”
He frowned. “Not that I recall. Why?”
“Then I will tell you. That man is my brother. I am sorry I did not introduce you. That was rude of me.”
His frown remained. “If he is your brother, why did you not tell me before, when I all but accused you of entertaining a lover?”
She hesitated. Chewed her lower lip. “My brother is not supposed to be visiting me. Our father has forbidden it.”
“Why?”
“He has his reasons; that is all I wish to say. But I do not want word getting back to him that Henry has been to see me.”
The captain shook his head. “I shall not breathe a word, but I think it devilish unfair of your father.”
“Do not judge him harshly. It is not his fault. It is mine. Only mine.”
Captain Bryant opened his mouth as if to ask her to elaborate but apparently thought the better of it. Instead he simply thanked her for telling him, and bid her good-night. Mariah watched him walk away with the dismal realization that he was also saying good-bye.
Flogging will continue until morale improves.
– Royal Navy ship notice
Matthew helped himself to a solitary breakfast from a sideboard that could easily have satisfied a dozen hungry midshipmen. As he selected sausages, eggs, and muffins, he thought about last night’s encounter with Miss Aubrey. The inhabitant of the gatehouse was certainly intriguing, but something was not right there. He wondered why he thought of her so often. Was he so bored? In truth, he had found his life as a gentleman to be exceedingly tedious so far. And, he admitted to himself, lonely. While not fully staffed, Windrush Court teemed with any number of servants and estate workers. But no friends. At least aboard ship he had enjoyed the companionship of commissioned officers at meals. Here, he dined alone.
On his way to the stables later that morning, Matthew heard a horse trot up the drive. Through the arched portico, he saw the rider was a fair-haired man in dark blue coat and cocked hat. His heart buoyed.
William Hart had arrived.
The young groom hurried out to greet the visitor and take his horse. Matthew winced as his friend gingerly dismounted, his foot catching at the stirrup in an ungainly fashion. The waiting groom took the horse’s reins and offered a steadying hand.
Matthew hurried down the front stairs and across the drive. “Hart!”
The fair-haired man limped forward to meet him. “Hello, Bryant.”
The two men shook hands, then slapped shoulders in a half hug. Apparently self-conscious, Hart pulled away first. He looked up, surveyed the house, and whistled. “Nice quarters, Captain.”
“Temporary quarters. At least for now. Do come in and I’ll show you around. I am so glad you’ve come, old friend.”
Matthew gave Hart a tour of the house, careful to moderate his pace, and was relieved not to see Prin-Hallsey about. He offered his guest his choice of several bedchambers, suggesting one at the top of the stairs to limit how far Hart would need to walk several times each day, and then sent a footman to bring up Hart’s kit. After William was settled, they shared a meal together, exchanging news of men they had served with and each other’s families – Hart had only an invalid mother living, and Matthew knew the two were quite close.
But what began as a pleasant afternoon seemed to change at some point. Matthew became aware of a mounting tension between himself and his former first lieutenant. The reunion was certainly not proving to be the amiable one he had anticipated.
“Shall we ride?” Hart offered. “You can show me your vast domain and exercise your new horse in the bargain.”
“You must be tired from your journey,” Matthew said. “How about a game of chess instead?”
Hart grimaced. “You despise chess.”
“I don’t mind. Whatever you want to do.”
“I want you to stop treating me like an aged invalid.”
Longing to escape the confines of the house and the clock-ticking tension, Matthew suggested a walk through the grounds and gardens. He added, “If you think you can manage it.”
“Of course. I have a stout stick and the surgeon’s assurance that exercise will benefit the leg.”
As they walked, Matthew pointed out the ivy-covered stable block with its unusual central clock tower, the rose garden sporting early yellow roses, the shaped hedges, and reflecting pond. As they circled its placid shore, Matthew bent and selected a flat stone and skipped it across the silvery surface, thinking back fondly to his nighttime stroll there with Miss Aubrey.
“I want you to stay here with me, William,” he said. “For as long as I have the place.”
William frowned. “Why?”
Matthew was taken aback. “Well, there is certainly more room here than one bachelor like me needs. And – ”
Hart cut him off. “And I am on half pay and crippled in the bargain.”
“Well . . . yes.”
“And you feel sorry for me.”
“Of course I am sorry, man. If I could have taken that bullet for you, I would have.”
Hart’s usually smiling mouth twisted. “Ever the heroic Captain Bryant. Do you really think yourself so much stronger? That you would have overcome such a
minor
flesh wound and been up dancing the mazurka by nightfall?”
“I never said – ”
“Said what? That I am the weaker man? You thought it. Why else have you invited me here but to offer charity. Pity.”
“Hart, how defensive you are. What has come over you?”
“Months of stares and condescension – that’s what. But I can still best you, old man.”
“Hart, I hardly think – ”
“Don’t think I can? You think a bad leg will hinder me sufficiently? I bested you at academy, and I’ll best you now.”
“We were boys then, William. And that was before – ”
William Hart shoved him hard, nearly toppling him into the water.
“Hart!”
“Will I be hung for striking a superior officer?”
“We are not commissioned at present.”
“Good. Just checking.” He shoved Bryant once more.
Matthew felt his balance slip and managed to grab Hart by his lapels and pull the man down with him. Both hit the water with a splash.
Matthew sat up in the shallow pond, sputtering and muttering. “Thunder and turf, man, what has got into you?”
Hart sat up as well, panting and out of breath. “I don’t need your pity, Bryant. Never have. Never will.”
Matthew peeled off his sopping coat and tossed it on shore. “Was it so wrong of me to offer you a home here?”
Hart wiped the water from his eyes. “Offer me friendship, Matthew. Nothing more. Nothing less.”
At that moment, Miss Aubrey strolled into view and was no doubt startled to see two men in the pond – one fully dressed, the other in soaking wet shirtsleeves.
“Oh! Forgive me,” she murmured, quickly averting her gaze.
“Miss Aubrey,” Matthew said. “There is nothing to forgive. We were, um, simply . . . bathing.”
“Then, pardon me. I will leave you to it.” She walked quickly away, clearly stricken.
Dash it
, Matthew scolded himself and stood, sloshing out of the pond and jogging after her.
“Miss Aubrey, please wait,” he called. When she did, he paused beside her, trying to catch his breath. “It is I who should apologize. It was thoughtless of us.”
She kept her face averted. “You have nothing to apologize for. It is your home, is it not?”
“We are
both
tenants here,” he said gently. “I ought to have shown more consideration.”
“Think nothing of it.” She looked at him, then her gaze skittered away. “I grew up with two brothers, after all. I have seen nothing so very shocking, I assure you.”
He glanced down at his clinging white shirt.
No wonder
. . . “But we have embarrassed you. And for that, I apologize on behalf of both Mr. Hart and myself. I would introduce the two of you, but considering . . . uh . . .”
“I understand. Apology accepted.” Still, she looked uncomfortable and would not meet his gaze as she turned and walked away.
Idiot
, he chastised himself yet again.
When Dixon showed Captain Bryant into the drawing room the next morning, hat in hand, Mariah felt her cheeks warm instantly. For though he was fully dressed in golden-brown riding coat and buff trousers, she recalled how she had seen him last, in clinging, translucent shirtsleeves.
“Ah, I see you have not forgotten yesterday’s embarrassment. I have come to apologize more formally, and to assure you that my friend and I shall refrain from . . . bathing . . . in future.”
“Not on my account, I beg you. I shall simply avoid trespassing so close to the house.”
“Now, that I should not like, Miss Aubrey,” he said earnestly. “I wish you to be free to roam the estate at will.” He took a step nearer. “In fact, why do you not come and join Mr. Hart and me for dinner tomorrow? We are at each other’s throats already, and he has only just arrived.” His brown eyes glinted. “A lovely female companion might be just the civilizing influence we need.”
The thought of having dinner in Windrush Court with two men caused Mariah to feel ill at ease. He seemed to notice this as well, for he amended his invitation.
“Your Miss Dixon might accompany you, if you like.”
Mariah doubted Dixon would be comfortable with that arrangement either.
“You are very kind, Captain. But instead, why do you and Mr. Hart not join us for dinner here in the gatehouse? We can use the larger table in this room and fit quite comfortably. Martin is an excellent cook.”