Nicola Cornick Collection Read online

  ‘We shall have to look elsewhere,’ she said, and turned back to the car.

  ‘Wait!’ Charlotte caught her arm. ‘You cannot travel on today! Where would you go? Stay with us and rest, and then we may all put our heads together and decide what is to be done.’

  She turned to her brother with an engaging smile. ‘Jack? Miss Bowes is exhausted. Surely you can stay here tonight?’

  Jack was slapping his driving gloves thoughtfully in the palm of his hand. It was clear to Sally that Charlotte’s suggestion found very little favour with him and she suspected that it was because the last thing he wanted was to have to introduce her to the rest of his family, or explain to them the story of Bertie and Connie’s elopement. He could not have made more clear to her the contempt in which he held her.

  ‘I could not possibly impose on you, Mrs Harrington,’ she said. ‘I suggest that Mr Kestrel takes me to the nearest town, where I may find some lodgings, and then he may return here to join your family party. We can always continue our search in the morning.’

  Charley looked horrified. ‘Oh, that would be far too shabby, Miss Bowes! Jack would not dream of treating you thus, I am sure.’

  Jack, Sally thought, looked eminently capable of treating her far worse than that, but whatever he was about to say was forestalled by the appearance of a couple of gentlemen from around the side of the house. They were dressed in tennis whites and carrying rackets and were deep in conversation, but when they saw the three of them—and, more specifically, the Lanchester—they hurried over.

  ‘I say,’ the taller and fairer of the two exclaimed, ‘what a corking piece of machinery, Kestrel! Makes my Model T Ford seem positively sedentary!’ He smiled at Sally and shook her hand. ‘Hello! You must be Jack’s latest. He always did have excellent taste in women as well as motor cars.’

  ‘Stephen!’ Charley Harrington said reprovingly. ‘This is Miss Sally Bowes.’

  Sally smiled, but her attention had almost immediately gone to the man who had been playing tennis with Stephen. She had had no idea that her old family friend Gregory Holt was a connection of the Harringtons, but if this was a family party, then he must be.

  Greg was smiling at her, but his cool blue eyes were thoughtful as he looked from her to Jack and back again. ‘How do you do, Miss Bowes?’ he said formally. ‘It is a delightful surprise to see you again and so unexpectedly.’

  Sally’s heart was thudding. She could feel Jack’s gaze on her face. If he had looked tense before, now he was looking positively thunderous.

  ‘Miss Bowes,’ he said, even more coldly than before, ‘I believe you are already acquainted with Stephen’s cousin, Gregory Holt?’

  Holt took Sally’s hand and held it for far longer than form dictated. ‘Miss Bowes and I have known each other a long time, Kestrel.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Jack said icily. Sally could feel the anger and tension in him. She felt even more awkward imposing on this family party now that Greg Holt was here. She had known Holt for years—he had been a pupil of her father’s at Oxford—and many years before, when she had been so unhappy with Jonathan, Greg had offered more than just friendship. He was looking at her now with the same warm admiration that he had always shown her and he had also picked up on Jack’s antagonism. Not that it seemed to bother him. He merely cocked a quizzical eyebrow and tightened his grip on Sally’s hand.

  ‘Well, this is splendid!’ Charlotte was saying, beaming at them. ‘You see, you are already amongst friends, Miss Bowes! Stephen!’ she added, seizing her husband’s arm and dragging him away from his appreciation of the car, ‘Do tell Jack that he simply cannot be so ill mannered as to disappear when he has only just arrived. He has some cork-brained idea of not stopping here because he is looking for Bertie, and Bertie is not here.’ She caught Jack’s meaningful glare and stopped abruptly before the whole story of Bertie’s elopement tumbled out. ‘Anyway,’ she added indignantly, ‘poor Miss Bowes is very tired and cannot be expected to be dragged off on some wild goose chase this evening.’ She spread her hands appealingly. ‘Oh, Stephen, do something! Make them stay!’

  It seemed to Sally that Stephen Harrington was well able to cope with his wife’s melodrama, for now he merely thrust a hand through his tousled fair hair, smiled at Sally and remarked placidly that if Jack had decided to leave he doubted there was anything anyone else could do to change his mind.

  ‘For you know he is as damnably obstinate as you are, my love,’ he said to Charlotte, ‘and once you have set your mind to something, there is no arguing with you.’

  ‘And I,’ Charlotte said with spirit, ‘have quite set my mind to the fact that they must stay.’ She turned back to Sally. ‘At the least you must come inside and take some tea before you go dashing off again.’ She slipped her hand through Sally’s arm. ‘This way, Miss Bowes. I am sure you will appreciate the chance to have a rest. Travelling by automobile is all very fashionable, but it can be wearisome, especially when accompanied by a bad-tempered brute!’ She shot Jack a look of reproach. ‘Stephen darling, Gregory, do take Jack away and give him a big drink of something in the hope of improving his temper, or, if that does not work, in the hope of making him incapable of driving that car!’

  In Charlotte’s opulently decorated blue-damask drawing room, Sally removed her hat and veil and sank with relief into a seat. She felt exhausted. Charlotte rang for tea and came across to sit beside her on the satinwood sofa.

  ‘I am most dreadfully sorry about this, Mrs Harrington,’ Sally said, as Charlotte turned, smiling, to face her. ‘Mr Kestrel was certain that Mr Basset would have brought Connie here.’ Her face fell. ‘I was so disappointed to find that we had not guessed right.’

  Charlotte patted Sally’s hand comfortingly. ‘I am sorry for your distress, Miss Bowes. It must be very difficult for you trying to do the right thing by your sister. Do you have any other relatives or are you alone in the world?’

  ‘I have another younger sister,’ Sally said, thinking of Nell, ‘but our parents are dead.’

  ‘And I suppose that you have always been the one to look after the others,’ Charlotte said, nodding. ‘It must have been lonely for you. Being the eldest can be a burden sometimes, can it not, Miss Bowes?’

  ‘It can be,’ Sally said, realising with a rush just how lonely she had been sometimes. She looked up to meet Charlotte’s compassionate gaze. ‘I do feel a sense of responsibility. Nell—my sister Petronella—is a great supporter of women’s suffrage. She is a widow without two pennies to rub together.’ She just managed to stop herself before she blurted out the whole tale of Nell’s debts and her own despair. Charley’s warmth of manner was so soothing after Jack’s contempt that Sally was terribly afraid she might tell her everything on the strength of ten minutes’ acquaintance.

  ‘And your sister Connie,’ Charley prompted, ‘the one who has eloped with my cousin …’

  ‘Yes, Connie.’ Sally shook her head. ‘Well, I suppose one could say that Connie goes her own way. She works in my nightclub in the Strand, Mrs Harrington.’ She looked a little defiant. ‘You can see now why both Lord Basset and your brother consider her an unsuitable match for Bertie and think me a bad influence into the bargain.’

  ‘Oh, Uncle Toby always was a stuffed shirt,’ Charlotte said, waving a hand around. ‘But I would have thought better of Jack.’ She frowned. ‘He is no snob.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ Sally said with a sigh, ‘if he believed Connie’s regard was sincere he might be more sympathetic. But …’ she met Charley’s eyes very honestly ‘… I think he believes her a fortune hunter. Certainly her behaviour has painted her in that light so it is no great wonder.’

  ‘Well,’ Charley said indignantly, ‘that is no reason to judge you in the same way, Miss Bowes, and I will tell Jack so! He can be odiously callous and cutting at times. It is one of his worst faults—though there are plenty of others to choose from!’ She smiled at Sally. ‘Please do call me Charley, Miss Bowes, and I hope I may call you Sally? I am not
one to stand on formality.’

  ‘Of course,’ Sally said, feeling slightly overwhelmed. Jack’s sister was rather like a force of nature and quite unstoppable. ‘I would be delighted.’

  ‘That is settled, then,’ Charley said. She gave the butler a bright smile as he entered with the tea tray. ‘Thank you, Patterson. And would you please be so good as to ask Mrs Bell to prepare two further bedrooms? Mr Kestrel and Miss Bowes will be staying tonight.’

  ‘I admire your confidence,’ Sally said.

  Charley laughed. She stirred the tea vigorously, splashing a fair quantity on to the tray and the plate of shortbread biscuits. The butler looked pained but resigned, as though such incidents occurred each day. One of the black Labradors came over to tidy up the damp biscuits.

  ‘Tell me more about your sister Connie,’ Charley said, as Patterson went out. ‘If she is strong-minded, she could be just what Bertie needs. I think that he would benefit greatly from marrying a strong and clever woman. He is quite weak and easily led and needs firm guidance, like so many men.’

  Sally smiled to think of Stephen Harrington being receptive to firm guidance. He hardly struck her as that sort of man.

  ‘You are very generous, Charley,’ she said, ‘but I do not think that Connie is the right woman for Mr Basset.’ She thought about the blackmail and sighed. ‘Your brother is no doubt right in his judgement. I myself suspect that Connie is merely hunting a fortune.’

  ‘Well, we shall see,’ Charley said. Her chin jutted pugnaciously. ‘If Bertie and Connie are genuinely in love, then I for one shall support them all I can! At the least they should be left to sort the matter out themselves. I cannot understand why Jack has dragged you into this farrago, Sally.’

  ‘I did rather drag myself,’ Sally admitted. ‘I wanted to make sure that Connie was safe and well.’

  ‘I suppose that Jack is acting as Uncle Toby’s agent in all this,’ Charley said, passing Sally her teacup, ‘and has become all haughty about the family honour.’ Her face broke into a mischievous smile. ‘How rich is that, and Jack with the reputation he has! I shall tell him not to be so pompous!’ She peered closely at Sally. ‘I do hope that he has not upset you too much, Miss Bowes? He can be frightfully rude.’

  ‘Indeed he can,’ Sally said. She fidgeted with her teaspoon. ‘But I can look after myself.’

  ‘Well, I am not sure that you can, with Jack,’ Charley exclaimed. ‘He is so very high-handed. Sometimes I think he was born in the wrong century. He behaves like some sort of eighteenth-century rake—’ She stopped, eyes widening, as the hot colour burned Sally’s cheeks. ‘Oh! Have I said something tactless? I do apologise!’

  ‘No,’ Sally said, ‘no, of course not.’ New friend or not, she thought, there was no possible way she could discuss Jack’s rakish tendencies with his sister.

  Charley handed her a plate of tiny cucumber sandwiches and apple and walnut cake. Sally ate hungrily, suddenly becoming aware just how tired and ravenous she was. She had not been able to eat much at lunch. Jack’s presence had made her too nervous.

  ‘Now,’ Charley said, ‘I have a plan. It is foolish for you and Jack to go charging off to Gretna Green tonight—’ a dimple dented her cheek ‘—particularly in the Lanchester, which may be a splendid vehicle, for all I know, but would take days to reach Birmingham, let alone Gretna! I suggest that I send a footman to bring your cases in and then an overnight stay will be a fait accompli. I will tell Jack it is all decided.’

  As Sally started to protest, she waved her comments aside. ‘I can lend you something to wear for dinner if you require it, Sally, so you need not regard that as a problem. And I will talk Jack around. See if I don’t!’

  Sally looked down at her hands. ‘You are very kind, Charley, but I do not think Mr Kestrel wishes me …’ She paused, trying to find the right words. ‘I do not wish to impose on your family party. Mr Kestrel and I are the slightest of acquaintances—’

  ‘So you said earlier.’ Charlotte raised a disbelieving brow. ‘I thought quite otherwise when I saw the way that Jack was watching you. And as for the way he looked at Gregory Holt when Greg was holding your hand … Why, I half-expected him to challenge Greg to a duel over you, and they have known one another for years. I was never more astonished in my life!’

  A wave of colour washed into Sally’s face. ‘Lord Holt is an old friend of my family,’ she said carefully, ‘and so no doubt he feels he has some licence as an old acquaintance.’

  ‘Well, I don’t think Jack thought so,’ Charley said blithely. ‘I thought he was going to punch him!’

  ‘I assure you, you are quite mistaken,’ Sally said hurriedly. ‘Mr Kestrel and I have clashed very badly over this matter of the elopement and there truly is very little between us but hostility. It can only be a matter of indifference to him that Lord Holt is a friend of mine.’

  ‘If you say so,’ Charlotte said, with patent disbelief. ‘And if you truly do not like Jack very much, then I cannot blame you. He is dreadfully arrogant and overbearing. I will make sure to sit you a long way away from each other at dinner.’ She grabbed Sally’s hand. ‘Oh, do stay, Sally! The weekend will be so much more fun if you do! I like you so much!’

  In the face of such artless friendship Sally felt unable to refuse. ‘I am happy to stay overnight, Charley,’ she said smiling, ‘but then Mr Kestrel and I must work out what best to do to retrieve Bertie and Connie. And,’ she added on a note of warning, ‘I think you might have a difficult job persuading Mr Kestrel to stay. As soon as you mentioned the words Great-Aunt Ottoline, I saw him turn pale.’

  Charley giggled. ‘Oh, Aunt Otto dotes on Jack. Mind you, she does have a determination to marry him off and she is frightfully strong-minded.’

  ‘Show me a member of your family who isn’t,’ Sally murmured.

  They went out into the hall. Jack and Stephen Harrington were emerging from the library. Sally thought that Jack looked slightly less angry than when she had last seen him, but as soon as his gaze fell on her he frowned.

  ‘Jack,’ Charlotte began, ‘it is all decided. You are to stay here tonight.’

  ‘No,’ Jack said.

  That, Sally thought, was quite unequivocal. He did not want her mingling with his family and friends. Equally she was sure that he wanted to keep the matter of Bertie’s indiscretion with Connie from becoming common knowledge, especially if the situation could yet be salvaged.

  ‘If you are quite restored, Miss Bowes,’ Jack added coldly, ‘we will continue our journey.’

  ‘Jack—’ Charley said again, but surprisingly fell silent as Stephen shook his head slightly. There was an awkward pause, broken by the sound of an imperious knocking at the front door. A footman hurried to open it. Patterson, who had evidently been distracted eavesdropping on the scene in the hall, adjusted his gloves and rushed forward to announce the new arrival.

  ‘Lady Ottoline Kestrel!’ he announced.

  Sally saw Jack go rigid. There was a look of perfect horror on his face. ‘I thought that you told me Great-Aunt Otto was arriving later,’ he hissed at Charlotte, out of the corner of his mouth.

  ‘This is later!’ Charlotte hissed back. ‘It’s not my fault! Don’t upset her, Jack. She is very frail these days!’

  ‘She doesn’t look very frail to me,’ Jack said grimly.

  Sally looked at the tiny, bejewelled figure of Lady Ottoline Kestrel as her personal maid helped her into the hall. Although she was as thin and delicate as a little bird, and stiff in her movements, there was something strong and indomitable about her. Her eyes, the same dark brown as Jack and his sister, were sharp and piercingly alive. Her face was sunk in wrinkles, but beneath them Sally thought that she could see the same elegant bone structure that Charlotte possessed. Lady Ottoline must have been a beauty in her youth. Now she was simply terrifying and it was impossible to recognise the winsome girl Sally had seen in the portrait at the Wallace Collection. A huge hat adorned with ostrich and pheasant feathers nodded on La
dy Ottoline’s brow and her coat was trimmed with matching plumes.

  ‘Good gracious, how many birds must have died in Aunt Otto’s service!’ Charley whispered irreverently. She hurried forward, raising her voice. ‘Great-Aunt Otto! How lovely to see you!’

  ‘Humph,’ Lady Ottoline said, inclining her cheek regally for her great-niece’s kiss, ‘how are you, Charlotte? And is that your dreadful modern contraption on the gravel outside, Jack? Didn’t realise you were going to be here, though I suppose it is good to see you again, boy. Couldn’t get the carriage up to the door though, with that machine there—it scared the horses!’

  ‘I do apologise,’ Jack said, following his sister’s lead in bending to kiss their great-aunt. ‘I will move it at once.’

  ‘See you do,’ Lady Ottoline said. ‘You can bring my bags in whilst you’re at it. Severs is too old to carry my luggage.’

  Sally thought that if the coachman was as ancient as the maid, it was surprising they managed to totter anywhere at all. But Lady Ottoline, for all her physical frailty, was as sharp as a needle. Her piercing dark gaze was even now pinning Sally herself to the spot.

  ‘And this is?’ Her tone was icy.

  Jack and Charlotte exchanged a look.

  ‘Good afternoon, your ladyship,’ Sally said. ‘My name is Sally Bowes—’

  ‘And she is my fiancée,’ Jack finished. He grabbed Sally’s hand and gripped it hard, speaking over the outraged squeak of pain and denial that she made.

  ‘I do apologise for not introducing you properly, Aunt Otto,’ he said. ‘In the excitement of your arrival I quite forgot. Sally darling—’ his tone forbade all argument ‘—this is my great-aunt, Lady Ottoline Kestrel.’