The Unexpected Bride (14 page)

The cold indifference in her voice stung, but Peter merely shrugged and said, ‘As you please, Penelope.’ Having finished his breakfast, he excused himself politely and left to go about his business.

As the door shut behind him Penelope relaxed with a sigh of relief. It had been far more difficult than she’d expected to maintain a pose of icy formality. She was annoyed to realise that her hands were trembling slightly as she finished her cup of tea. Silly little fool! she told herself crossly as she made her way to the side table and helped herself carefully to a boiled egg. Somehow her appetite seemed to have deserted her.

Johnson met her as soon as she entered the stable yard. ‘Good morning, my lady. Nero is saddled and ready. The master said as how you would be riding him in the future. For which we’re all glad. He’s a nice old chap and he does get a bit bored not going out as often.’

Penelope smiled and said, ‘Well, I’m afraid that I won’t be providing him with too many thrills, just a quiet ride every day or so!’

‘Just the thing for the old fellow,’ said Johnson
cheerfully. ‘Fred! Bring Nero out for her ladyship, and Misty for me.’

‘Yessir!’ Penelope heard the clatter of hooves on the cobbled yard and then a voice saying respectfully, ‘Here they are, Mester Johnson, sir. Will that be all, sir?’

The voice sounded just a little nervous, and something stirred in Penelope’s memory. ‘Ah, would this be Fred who got such a terrible shock to find Gelert here in a supposedly empty stall?’

‘Aye, that’s him, my lady. Silly clunch! Well, say something, lad!’

‘Good morning, my lady. I’m sure ’e’s a nice dog, but I’d never seed sech a big un afore!’

Penelope smiled and said, ‘I don’t suppose Mr Johnson had either! Never mind, Gelert really is quite harmless, I promise! Now, shall we be going?’

‘If your ladyship is ready,’ said Johnson. He brought Nero around to her and, taking her foot, threw her into the saddle. She settled herself quickly, sorting out her skirts and finding the stirrup. Carefully she gathered up the reins so that she could just feel Nero’s mouth and waited quietly while Johnson mounted.

He did so and asked, ‘Are you ready my lady?’

‘Yes, Johnson.’

They trotted out of the yard together, with Gelert bounding around them, and Johnson said, ‘There’s a pretty ride through the park towards the village, my lady. Plenty of room for a canter if so be your wish, and we can circle back around the Home Farm and through the woods. About an hour and a half it would take.’

‘That sounds excellent, Johnson,’ said Penelope
cheerfully. ‘You pick a ride that you would enjoy, it doesn’t really make much difference to me.’

Johnson glanced at her and said slowly, ‘Well, I suppose not, my lady, but when spring comes around again and the violets are out in the Home Wood, or even now when all the birds are about and the smells are nice anyway…well, that’s why I thought we’d go this way. Ellen was saying how you like the herbs and we thought you’d like this.’

Penelope turned towards him and said, ‘Thank you, Johnson, for giving it so much thought. I do appreciate that.’

Penelope enjoyed the ride very much. Johnson was an excellent guide, telling her all about the route they were taking and describing the scenery. It was a glorious day and she could feel the sun warming her as the horses trotted along. To her great delight there was even a lark swinging high above them in a rapture of song. They halted the horses and she listened entranced for several minutes, and Penelope then said, ‘You know, Johnson, a neighbour of ours at home, Mrs Knighton, had one trapped. She put the poor little thing in a cage in her drawing room and it just drooped and fretted. Wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t sing. My sister and I got into the most awful scrape because we let it out into her garden and of course it was gone. When it took off and realised it was free again…oh the song! You’d have thought its heart had been breaking in that horrid cage!’

Johnson snorted and said, ‘Them as puts any wild bird, leave alone a lark, in a cage needs to be caged theirselves. ’Tisn’t right for a lark, of all birds! They need the sky and the wind, my lady. And anyway, do
you think as how a lark singing caged inside would sound like this one?’

Penelope shook her head and said softly, ‘No, he’d sound stunted, like his soul would be.’

‘That’s right,’ said Johnson. ‘And I’ll warrant you and your sister didn’t care much about the trouble you got into!’

His mistress grinned engagingly. ‘Not very much!’ she admitted. ‘Mama promised all sorts of dire retribution in front of Mrs Knighton and revoked it all when we got into the carriage to go home!’

The groom gave a shout of laughter. ‘That’s the way. I dessay she was a-wishing she’d done it herself!’

The rest of the ride passed agreeably. Johnson, who had known the Earl since boyhood, like all the older servants, had had little time for the previous Countess. This one he reckoned to be a far better bargain! Old Meadows had it right when he said she was quality through and through. A real lady she was. Not too high in the instep and had a brain as well as a heart. As they turned to ride homeward Johnson silently congratulated his master on a good choice!

Penelope returned to the house to discover that Ellen and François between them had contrived an extremely hearty picnic lunch which included a large bone for Gelert. Despite Ellen’s misgivings Penelope still felt fresh after her ride, and was determined to go for a walk. Quite apart from her genuine desire to get out of the house and give Gelert enough exercise she was unwilling to give his lordship the slightest reason for thinking she was moping about or pining for his company.

They set off together through the kitchen garden and orchards with the lunch split between two small satch
els and Ellen further laden with a rug. Ellen said she knew a good spot for a picnic about a mile and half away, where the stream dropped several feet in a tinkling cascade to a deep pool. It was, she said a sheltered, sunny spot and would save them having to carry any water. They reached the place after about forty-five minutes of steady walking and spread out the rug in the filtered shade of a spreading oak close to the pool.

Myriad sounds came to Penelope’s ears: the plash of the water falling into the pool, a constant ripple of birdsong and the occasional splash of a leaping trout. Contentedly she sat on the rug and helped Ellen set out the lunch. Cold pasties, a cold chicken, bread rolls, cheese, a very large slab of plum cake, and fresh fruit. Fortunately François was adept at simple meals of this sort, being as how, said Ellen, the master often liked to come out like this with a gun or fishing rod.

‘He’s not much of a one for ceremony,’ said Ellen, completely forgetting that it was not her place to pass comment on her master to his wife. For her part Penelope didn’t care. If she couldn’t get to know her husband and his likes and dislikes one way then she would have to resort to more devious means!

The afternoon passed peacefully and Penelope found out a great deal about Ellen’s family, especially her sister, Martha. Ellen was terribly excited about becoming an aunt for the first time. Occasionally she stopped and begged pardon for rattling on, but her mistress simply laughed and said she liked to hear it all. And indeed Penelope was finding, in Ellen’s stories of her family life, some surcease from a homesickness she had hardly dared to admit to herself.

Separated from her mother and sisters for the first
time in her life, without anyone to really talk to or confide in she had begun to feel almost unbearably lonely. If only Peter was consistent, they could be friends, she thought. There was a great deal about him that she liked, and it was obvious that his servants held him in considerable affection as well as respect. This to her mind was indicative of a fine man! With a smile she remembered the scene in
Pride and Prejudice
where Lizzy discovered how wrong she had been about Darcy by listening to his housekeeper praise him to the skies. Firmly Penelope put aside the reflection that Lizzy then proceeded to fall very much in love with her erstwhile enemy! Love, thought Penelope, was definitely out of the question!

O
ver the next few days Penelope continued to ride out in the mornings or go out with Ellen. She saw very little of Peter except at breakfast or dinner, when their conversation was limited to polite enquiries about each other’s health and activities. Even breakfast she tried to avoid, only coming down when she was fairly sure that Peter would have left.

When it rained heavily one afternoon she found plenty to do helping Mrs Bates in the stillroom. That lady said that the mistress was a great deal more helpful than some fine ladies who couldn’t tell one herb from another even with their eyesight! Together they brewed simples and arranged herbs for drying while through it all Mrs Bates gossiped comfortably about the house and its traditions. Penelope heard all about the wonderful parties the previous Earl and his lady had given, and how broken up the old Earl had been when his wife died of a wasting disease.

‘He only lived a twelvemonth my lady, just didn’t seem to care any more. Master Peter was in the Peninsula then, but the Earl, he wouldn’t call him home. In the end Mr Meadows wrote to Master Peter
and told him just how things was without his lordship knowing. He sold out and got home within a month but ’twas too late. His lordship died and Master Peter married eighteen months later. Ah, ’twas a bad business.’ She sighed lugubriously, but went on more cheerfully, ‘Well, it’s all different now, dearie—my lady, I should say! Now, I’ll just go to the sewing room and find some more muslin bags for this lavender. Such a lot we’ve got this year!’

She bustled out of the room and the door shut behind her. Penelope mused over what she had been told. She wished she had known Peter’s parents. They sounded rather nice. Her thoughts were interrupted by the door opening and she swung around quickly. The footsteps were not those of Mrs Bates. Then a distinct odour of shaving soap reached her and she could hear Gelert’s tail thumping the floor enthusiastically.

‘Good afternoon, my lord,’ she said politely.

Peter had long since stopped being openly amazed at her uncanny ability to know who had entered a room so he just answered, ‘Good afternoon, Penelope,’ and wondered how the devil she did it.

‘Mrs Bates will be back very soon if you wish to speak to her,’ said Penelope.

‘Actually, Penelope, it was you I came to find,’ said Peter steadily, as he tried to remember just how long it was since he had seen his wife alone. At least four days he thought, and then it had only been by chance that she had come to breakfast before he’d left. It was almost as if she were avoiding him!

Penelope looked a trifle surprised and said, ‘You wish to speak to me, my lord?’

Peter took a deep breath and said, ‘Er, yes. I thought that I had better inform you that my cousin Jack has
arrived unexpectedly. He tells me that he is on his way to visit a friend and simply stopped to wish us happy, but I felt obliged to offer him lodging.’

He looked keenly at his wife. She suddenly looked very pale and her voice was not quite steady as she said, ‘I…I…thought you did not like your cousin.’

‘No, I don’t, but he is my heir and I cannot in all honour refuse him the hospitality of this house without a better reason than that,’ Peter replied. ‘Has something disturbed you, Penelope? You are acquainted with Jack, I believe. Was he not a friend of your brother’s?’

‘Yes. Yes, he was. He stayed with us once,’ answered Penelope, making a tremendous effort to calm herself. She felt that it was impossible to tell Peter the truth: that she feared and loathed his cousin. She would simply take good care never to be alone with him. ‘Will he be staying for long—and when does Mr Carstares arrive?’

‘Jack will only stay two or three nights, and I had a letter from George. He is staying a little longer with his sister to bear her company while Fairford is away. He’ll be along in a week or so.’

‘Very well, my lord. I will see you and Mr Frobisher at dinner, then,’ said Penelope politely.

Peter was suddenly piqued at this cool dismissal. Damn it! She can’t just dismiss me like that! He reached out and took her hand, firmly pulling her towards him. She stiffened and tried to pull away, but he ignored this and with his free hand pushed her chin up. She stopped resisting but the expression on her face was cold. Nevertheless he could feel that she was trembling and he bent his head to kiss her, expecting the same warm response that she always gave him. It
was not there. She stood submissively in the circle of his arm and remained seemingly aloof.

In reality Penelope was finding it extremely difficult to control her instinctive desire to respond to Peter’s gentle kiss. As always her heart pounded, and she felt that her knees would give way at any moment, but somehow she clung to her resolution and remained outwardly unresponsive. Just when she thought she could bear it no longer and must return his kiss, he stopped and released her.

Unhurriedly she stepped away and asked steadily, ‘Will that be all, my lord?’

Puzzled, Peter looked at her. Her whole body seemed to radiate relief and her expression suggested that she did not find his attentions in the least bit agreeable. After a moment he gathered his wits and answered slowly, ‘That was all I had to tell you. I beg your pardon, Penelope. I will see you at dinner.’

He left the stillroom in some confusion and returned to the study where, instead of settling to the work he had intended to do, he sat wondering what on earth he had done wrong. It did not really take him very long to work it out. Penelope
was
avoiding him, and she had obviously taken his hints that he did not wish for a close relationship. That, he told himself firmly, was all to the good. The only problem was that he did not really enjoy making love to a statue, especially when the said statue had hitherto responded to his advances with a tantalising mixture of innocence and passion.

But that’s just the problem, he thought irritably. You found her too appealing, too—he flinched at the word—lovable. Surely now you can simply get on with it and…?
No!
He couldn’t do that! He couldn’t force himself on the child if she found his attentions
distasteful. But did she? he wondered. Then he understood fully. His wife was protecting herself from being hurt in the only way she could: by retreating behind a barrier of complete indifference.

He cursed as he realised what he had done. The only way he could break the impasse was to confide in her, apologise and explain his odd humours. And to do that he would have to step out from behind his own barriers, thus creating the very situation that he wished to avoid: a relationship of emotional intimacy with his wife!

As he had expected, Peter did not see Penelope again until dinner time. He heard her in her bed chamber, chatting away to Ellen as she changed for dinner. Briefly he considered knocking on the door and escorting her down to the drawing room, but then decided against the idea. After all, he’d got what he wanted, hadn’t he? A wife who would make no demands on his time or feelings.

His thoughts turned to his cousin as he tied his cravat. What did Jack want this time? Money, no doubt. Peter already made his heir a generous allowance, but it never seemed to be quite enough to support Jack in the lifestyle he enjoyed. Idly Peter wondered what Jack would do when he was cut out of the succession by a child. I’ll have to settle some money on him, thought Peter, and he certainly won’t be happy about it! Oh, well, plenty of time before we need to consider that!

He went on down to the drawing room, where he found his cousin lounging in a wing chair. ‘Good evening, Jack. I hope the staff have made you comfortable,’ said Peter in a friendly manner.

‘Oh, yes, Cousin, I always feel quite at home here,’
replied Frobisher. ‘But where is your bride? I am looking forward to renewing my acquaintance with her.’

‘No doubt she will be down shortly,’ answered Peter, wondering why the thought of his cousin meeting Penelope was so distasteful. He began to ask Frobisher about his journey, and for how long they were to have the pleasure of his company, when Penelope entered the room.

The first intimation that he had of her arrival was an utterly blood-curdling growl from the doorway. He swung around in consternation to see Penelope with her hand gripping Gelert’s collar firmly. And just as well! The dog was snarling viciously. What on earth had got into him? Only once had he seen the beast react like that, in the chaise on his wedding day. Suddenly he realised that Gelert’s attention was focused on Frobisher, and turned to look at his cousin, who had whitened and was backing away.

Penelope spoke quickly. ‘I am sorry, my lord. Perhaps you might ring for Meadows and I will ask him to take Gelert down to François in the kitchens. We will wait in the hall.’

‘That seems an excellent suggestion Penelope, if you think François won’t mind,’ said Peter in relief.

‘Oh, no, he and Gelert are good friends. He says Gelert is the only dog he has ever known who doesn’t try to steal in the kitchen,’ said Penelope as she dragged the still snarling dog out of the room.

Peter turned back to Frobisher, unsure of what to say. He could only think of one reason why the dog should react so savagely. It also made sense of Penelope’s evident upset at the news of Jack’s arrival. Peter was stunned by the fury which arose in his breast at the mere suspicion that Frobisher might have taken
advantage of Penelope’s blindness. Somehow he managed to mask his anger and turn the dog’s behaviour off with a casual apology. He couldn’t accuse his cousin on the basis of a dog’s testimony—however much he might wish to!

Penelope returned alone and Peter immediately went to her and took her arm. Damn her independence! He was determined that she should not feel any fear of Frobisher just because she had sent Gelert out. He remembered the other occasion when she had refused to hide behind Gelert’s protection and paid silent tribute to her courage.

‘Penelope, I believe you are already acquainted with my cousin Jack Frobisher.’

He led her up to him reluctantly, but Penelope was in complete control of herself and responded cheerfully, holding out her hand. ‘Indeed, yes. How do you do, Mr Frobisher? I do beg your pardon for keeping you waiting. Perhaps we should go straight into dinner, before Francçois’s creations are quite ruined.’

‘What a marvellous idea, fair cousin. But first I must extend my condolences to you on your recent sad loss! I was very much distressed to hear of it!’

Penelope looked rather puzzled at first, but then answered, ‘Oh! Yes, of course. Geoffrey’s death. Thank you, Mr Frobisher.’

‘And on the very morning of the wedding, I understand,’ continued Frobisher. ‘No doubt Peter has been at pains to console you in your…er…time of grief. On a happier note, do permit me to welcome you to the family, and to congratulate Darleston on acquiring such a charming bride!’ Frobisher bowed low over her hand but did not kiss it. Not with his formidable cousin standing right there. He looked at Penelope apprais
ingly. Just as appetising as ever, he thought nastily. All that fresh loveliness, but not for him! Darleston got everything, damn his eyes!

They went into dinner and Frobisher exerted himself to try and charm his companions. He missed very little and was quick to notice the constraint between the couple. Good! he thought unpleasantly. It certainly suited him if they were ill at ease with each other! It was delightful to think that all his cousin’s reputed skill with the ladies had not helped with this one! He asked his cousin about the estate, and even managed to conceal his boredom at Peter’s answers.

Turning to Penelope, he said, ‘It sounds as though my cousin is spending a vast deal of time on his estate! How do you contrive to occupy yourself?’

Penelope answered easily, ‘Oh, I go for walks with my maid and Gelert, or I ride out with Johnson—the head groom, you know. That is if the weather is fine. Otherwise I find there is plenty to do in the house.’

‘You ride out?’ said Frobisher, surprised. ‘I’m surprised Darleston permits such a thing! Most unsafe isn’t it? And with only a groom!’

‘Penelope is quite capable of deciding what is and isn’t safe for her to attempt without my interference, Jack,’ said Peter, annoyed that Frobisher’s comment so closely tallied with his own initial reaction. He also suspected that Penelope was about to deliver a blistering set down!

‘Of course,’ said Frobisher hurriedly. ‘And where do you ride, Lady Darleston?’ Something told him that it would be as well not to assume terms of familiarity with his hostess.

Penelope answered politely, Peter’s interjection having given her time to recall the impropriety of ad
ministering a severe snub to her husband’s cousin and guest. ‘Oh, I let Johnson decide. We usually go through the park and into the village and then swing around to come back around the Home Farm and the woods.’ She left it at that. Not for anything would she have shared the joy of those rides and Johnson’s descriptions of the countryside with someone like Jack Frobisher!

‘Ah, yes,’ said Frobisher smoothly. ‘And back over that picturesque old bridge into the park. How very pleasant.’

‘That’s right,’ said Penelope. ‘You must know it well, of course.’

‘Indeed I do,’ was the reply. ‘Well, it seems with all this activity on your part, Lady Darleston, that Peter’s company is entirely superfluous!’

Over the next couple of days Penelope had no difficulty in avoiding Frobisher’s company. Gelert’s behaviour on that first evening had seen to it that he was just as eager to avoid her when he knew the dog to be with her.

Nevertheless it was with real relief that she saw him off two days later. For one thing, good manners had dictated that she must put in an appearance at the breakfast table and not simply disappear for a walk in the middle of the day. Peter, of course, was being hospitable as well so that meant they’d had to be together a great deal more than she would have liked. His manner remained politely distant, and although this was what she expected and told herself she preferred a nagging ache persisted.

Frobisher left immediately after breakfast and Penelope, having sent a message down to the stables
for Johnson, set off with a light heart for her morning ride, her first in three days. It was a pleasant day, with the sun going in and out, but there was a fresh wind blowing which added a nip of autumn to the air.