The Shadowcutter (38 page)

“I hope not,” he said. “You have no idea how imperfect I am, how unworthy of you I am.”

“I do not care!” she exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “I do not!”

She stretched her finger tips towards him, as if she meant at any moment to throw her arms about him. He wanted to yield but he stepped away with another shake of his head.

“Go back to Mrs Carswell and your sister,” he said. “I am going to look for Mr Carswell.”

“I cannot go back yet,” she said, with a sob in her voice.

“Then sit there and compose yourself.”

She complied and he left her sitting there without another glance. He went upstairs to Carswell’s room, and passing over the gallery, looked through the latticed screen. She was still sitting there, her hands pressed to her face, her head bent. It was a wretched sight, and he gave up his search for Carswell and retreated to his room.

Chapter Thirty-six

They feasted on raspberries and kisses, and then lay for a little while in the deep shade of a pear tree.

“I must get back to work, I will be missed. We have to be a little careful,” she said, tearing herself from him.

He wanted to pull her back down into his arms, but he knew she was right.

“We will be careful,” he said, propping himself on his elbows and watching her smooth down her skirts.

“I must look a sight,” she said. “Is my hair all...?”

“A little wild, yes,” he said. “But much better in my eyes.”

“You should see it first thing in the morning. A haystack it is.”

The thought of seeing her red-gold curls flowing down her back was almost too much to bear. He scrabbled to his feet and kissed her again.

“I hope I shan’t have to wait too long for that.”

“How shall we manage it?” she said, a touch plaintively.

“We will find a way,” he said. “Now, you had better go,” he said, reaching for her hat that was hanging with his on a branch of the pear tree. He dropped it onto her head and tied the ribbons under her chin, before kissing her again on the lips.

When she had gone, he wandered about the garden and out into the park beyond, in an ecstatic daze. He hoped he would not encounter anyone, feeling that if he did he would have to blurt out the astounding truth that Sukey was now his and that he was now as good as married. The trees and the birds made better companions for this sudden gift of joy. They asked no searching questions.

He would have it done it all properly, he decided, with white satin, orange blossoms and bride cake, and Sukey honoured as she should be. He resolved to buy her a betrothal ring, even if she could not wear it publicly for the time being. But in the end it did not matter. What mattered was that she, like him, had been unable to face the future alone. They had found each other and now they were one, indivisible, a rock against disaster.

He was idling through an area of rough pasture, set with clumps of trees, where four sweet-faced, decorative, brown-spotted cows were grazing. They had been sent from Holbroke so that Ardenthwaite should have fresh milk – and he knew this because Sukey had taken notice of it. She had been delighted by them and impressed by the quality of their milk. In his mother’s hearing she had said that it would make excellent butter and cheese. His mother had been in agreement and pleased by her knowledge of practical dairying. “Mrs Connolly is such a treasure,” she had said. Felix had at that moment, wanted to desperately to tell her exactly how much of a treasure she was, how she had transformed his life and become the source of all his happiness.

He stood and gazed at the cows, happy that he understood their good points thanks to her, seeing in them all the comfortable possibilities of domestic life with her. Sweet butter for his bread, made in his own dairy, under Sukey’s diligent supervision, seemed only one of many engaging prospects. He determined then that it would not be long before they let their momentous news out of its captivity. She must take her rightful place sooner rather than later. He would smooth the way and make everyone see that it was not something to which anyone could object. He would save her from all the pains and arguments she feared. He would not allow anyone to object. How could they? For when they saw it, they would know, as he did, the absolute rightness of the match. All opposition would crumble, he was sure of it.

The sound of a carriage on the drive that crossed the park brought him back to the present moment. He turned and saw Lord Rothborough’s light travelling carriage, bowling along the avenue of great elms. He had only seen his Lordship a few hours ago in Market Craven and wondered what business could bring him there that afternoon.

He had been noticed. The carriage stopped. Lord Rothborough got out and began to walk towards him while the carriage continued towards the house.

“I am glad to get you alone,” Lord Rothborough said, as he approached. “I’ve just come from Stanegate. I’m a little... well, I don’t quite know, to be frank.” This was an unusual thing for Lord Rothborough to say, and Felix was, for a moment, silenced. Lord Rothborough squinted at the cows. “They look settled here. They will not want to come back.”

“I should make you an offer for them, then,” Felix said. “Isn’t that what I am supposed to say? Though I don’t know how much they might be worth. I’m not a proper farmer yet.”

Lord Rothborough reached out and squeezed Felix’s shoulder, as if grateful for this remark. “You also seem settled here,” he said, with some emotion in his voice. “Which is excellent.”

“I like it,” Felix said, realising with a certain humility that he had Lord Rothborough to thank not just for the title deeds to Ardenthwaite, but Sukey’s surrender. The quiet magic of the place had brought them together, he was sure of it.

“Good,” said Lord Rothborough. He rubbed his face and replaced his hat. “Let us walk back to the house, shall we?”

They began their walk in silence. Felix knew that Lord Rothborough was disquieted, and he had a fair idea of the reason for it. It was a subject that he had scarcely dared think much about. He had allowed more pressing events: Mrs Vernon’s death, the Major’s illness and Sukey, to push it to a dusty corner of the mind. Yet, Sukey had gently reminded him of it only the night before, when they had snatched twenty minutes together in the garden after dinner.

“When I was sitting with your mother this afternoon,” she had said, “she was telling me what a wicked little boy you were and all the time I was thinking of that poor Irish lady, and all she had been through, and how she must be feeling now having caught sight of you. Oh, don’t frown now, Felix. I didn’t mean to sting your conscience. I just thought she might want to write to you.”

“Or that I should write to her?” he had said. His conscience was stung, but she had done it so sweetly, he had felt he could bear any amount of such guidance from her.

“It couldn’t hurt. Since you didn’t take leave of her properly.”

“No. And I have Lord Rothborough to thank for that.” He gave a slight shudder, recalling how they had fallen into each others arms.

“Don’t blame him for that,” she said.

Her words now made him tender and careful towards Lord Rothborough. After a few minutes silence he ventured to say,

“I suppose that the Santa Magdalena party are still at Stangate.”

“Yes. They are.”

“And did you see Dona Blanca?”

“Yes. It was a little hard to judge. I did not see her alone, and she’s not herself in that company. But we had decided that day, the day we heard about Mrs Vernon, when you left us, that we would not see each other alone again. For your sake, as much as anything. A scandal is the last thing you want, I think.”

“And there would be one if you were alone with her?” Felix could not help saying.

Lord Rothborough considered for a moment and then said,

“An old love is a powerful thing. You know I have always been generous with my heart. She is still compelling, perhaps more so than before. She has gravitas and wisdom now. I can’t deny she still has a grip on me. To see her among those people was a torture. But she is devoted to the memory of her late husband and to the welfare of his countrymen, who by all accounts, love her like a queen. Which does not surprise me the least. She had that quality of inspiring loyalty and love, even at seventeen. She is also pious and fears for my soul, as well as her own. She will not stray from her resolve, and so I am to feed only on the crumbs of her society while she remains here. I am not even allowed the luxury of a letter.” He sighed.

“Do you think she might let me write?” Felix said after a pause.

“I think so, yes. Or you might visit – discreetly, of course. She asked after you of course, as much as could be permitted in company without arousing any suspicion. Not that it would have been noticed by Dona Clara whose grasp of English is most imperfect, but Don Luiz has a better command of the language. What a pair!”

“Was she still wearing that bracelet?”

“Yes, indeed, and it is the one from the parure, I am certain of it. How we approach the recovery of that is a difficult matter. I don’t want to offend him unduly, as he may be the next President and it would cause a great deal of diplomatic embarrassment to accuse him of buying stolen goods. I have no idea if he does or does not know if it has a dubious provenance. If he does not, he is dangerously naive for a man in high office, and that is a worry for our Government. If, however, he is aware that valuable trinkets acquired at illegal dog fights are likely to have been purloined, and he thinks that is an acceptable way of doing business, that is entirely another sort of worry for the gentlemen in the Foreign Office. Our interests there are of some significance and I don’t want them spoiled with for the sake of a bracelet, no matter how valuable. A delicate business.”

“Perhaps Dona Blanca might persuade them to return it quietly, for the sake of her adopted country’s prestige,” Felix said.

“Indeed,” said Lord Rothborough, smiling. “I think she, of all people might manage that. An excellent suggestion. You are getting shrewd, Felix!”

Felix was quite unused to this level of approbation. Indeed Lord Rothborough’s entire manner was confusing.

They were within sight of the house now, in the rose garden that garnished the south front. A turn of the path found them facing Mrs Carswell and Lady Maria.

“Maria, are you here alone?” Lord Rothborough said. “Does your mother know that –?”

“No, Papa, she does not,” Lady Maria said, flushing. “I am sorry. I came with Chartie. We thought – we wanted, since we are going away – oh dear, I am so sorry. And now she has vanished. Have you seen her?”

“She will not have gone far,” said Mrs Carswell.

“She was with Major Vernon,” Lady Maria said quietly.

“Oh,” said Lord Rothborough, heavily. “Oh. This is great mischief, Maria. I told you that Chartie was not to –”

“I know, I know, Papa,” said Lady Maria. “I am sorry.”

“You should not have allowed this!” he exclaimed.

She cringed a little at his vehemence.

“I know, but you know what Chartie is like, Papa,” she struggled to say, “when she has set her heart on something!”

Lord Rothborough exhaled loudly and glanced around him as if he might catch sight of the errant Charlotte.

“I am sure she will be found soon enough, Lord Rothborough,” said Mrs Carswell. “Meanwhile, perhaps we might yield the search to the gentlemen, Lady Maria, as I must admit the sun is a little strong for me. This weather is delightful, but I am not used to it. I would like to sit down again.”

“Yes, mother, you should go in,” Felix said, taking her arm and guiding her back into the small parlour. Lady Maria, almost in tears now, followed them and sat down, timidly glancing at her father as he came in.

“It is not your fault,” Lord Rothborough said, giving her a brief caress. “You are right, Chartie knows no law except her own. We will find her soon enough. Come, Felix.”

They set out on their search on the ground floor of the house.

“At least we can be certain that Major Vernon will not have indulged her,” Lord Rothborough said. “But she has allowed her heart too much licence in that direction and it will be painful for her. I already have poor sweet Gusta howling daily at my feet, and now we shall have to deal with Chartie, who will be far more wounded, because she feels everything so deeply. It has always been the way with her. Ah, if only Vernon were ten years younger and with better quarterings, it might have been possible, in time, to entertain it, though Lady Rothborough would never be content with it.” He gave a bitter laugh. “And for once, Felix you are behaving yourself in these matters. There’s a novelty! At least I trust you are?”

Felix felt his throat dry. He could not answer, for at the end of the passageway stood Sukey.

“Aha,” said Lord Rothborough seeing her, and striding forward. “Mrs Connolly, perhaps you can help us?”

“My lord?” Sukey said, making her curtsey.

“Have you seen Lady Charlotte?”

“Yes, my Lord. She is –” She indicated a closed door. Lord Rothborough’s hand was at once on the latch, but Sukey went on, “She is very distressed, my Lord. I have done all I could, but – I hope you don’t think I am speaking out of turn, but, she needs kindness now.”

Lord Rothborough looked Sukey over carefully.

“She has mentioned the trouble to you?” he said.

“Yes,” said Sukey. “I found her crying. She said she wanted to take my place. That she would happily be his servant.”

“Oh dear,” said Lord Rothborough. “We have quite a case, do we not!” He opened the latch and slipped into the room. He shut the door gently behind him.

“I don’t suppose he will be so kind to you,” Sukey said. “Nor me.”

Felix took her hand to kiss it, but she pulled it away.

“I don’t care what he thinks,” Felix said, snatching back her hand. “His opinion is irrelevant.”

“I might believe that if you didn’t care for him. But you do. He’s your father, for heaven’s sake, Felix. You can’t disregard him. We can’t!”

“He will have to live with our decision and he will soon see the rightness of it.”

Sukey once again pulled her hand from his.