A Companion of Quality Page 7

  “Country hours! So dull!” Julia yawned. “You must take a house in Town, Lewis! The country is so dreadfully slow! The Percevals and Cleeves do not entertain…and as for Sywell! Well, it is shocking that he should be allowed to be the premier landowner in the neighbourhood when he positively ignores us all!”

  Caroline saw Lewis smile. “I am sure that invitations will be forthcoming soon, Julia! As for Sywell, I confess I would not wish to visit the Abbey even if he invited me!”

  Julia shrugged gracefully. “Oh well, the Marquis is a scandal, I suppose, but the others have no excuse! You must call on them, Lewis! I do not care to be ignored by half the county! I shall quite die of boredom if we do not go out and about a bit more!”

  “You have no obligation to stay here if you are so tired of our company, Julia!” Lewis said, moving over to the sideboard and pouring a glass of wine. Caroline thought she could detect the tiniest hint of laughter in his voice. “If you would prefer to leave us for the social delights of the Little Season—”

  “Oh, I shall stay!” Julia said hastily. “You know how concerned I am to see that dear Uncle Harley is cared for! Besides, it will soon be Christmas and I am sure we shall be as merry as grigs!”

  Lewis frowned slightly. “Father’s illness must inevitably curtail our celebrations, I fear. A quiet, family Christmas—”

  Caroline saw Julia frown briefly. “But there is the ball at the Angel in a few weeks! Surely you would not seek to curb our pleasure so severely?” She gave him a reproachful glance. “Why, Lewis, you are the veriest puritan!”

  Caroline got to her feet. The prospect of watching Julia exert her charm was not a tempting one and she had been wishing to retire for the past two hours anyway. She felt a very unwelcome third, and Julia had been looking daggers at her in an unsubtle attempt to hint her away.

  “If you will excuse me,” she murmured, “I believe I shall retire now.”

  “Oh, you may go!” Julia waved a hand in lordly dismissal. “But pray do not lag abed in the morning, Caroline, for I have some commissions for you!”

  Caroline smarted with annoyance at the implication that she was lazy and closed her lips tightly to prevent a sharp rejoinder from escaping. She swept out into the hall and was somewhat surprised to find that Lewis had followed her to light a candle for her.

  “Thank you for your company this evening, Miss Whiston,” he said politely. “I hope that you did not find it too much of a trial!”

  Caroline met his eyes, which held a distinctly speculative twinkle deep in the blue. She was not sure of his precise meaning and did not intend to pursue it. The honest reply was that she would rather pull her hair out with tweezers than endure another dinner in Julia’s company, but that would scarcely be diplomatic. She could not resist a look into the drawing-room, where Julia was drumming her fingers discontentedly on the arm of her chair. The Beauty’s mouth drooped petulantly and she darted a sharp glance out into the hall, no doubt resenting that she was no longer the centre of Lewis’s attention.

  “It was a pleasant enough evening, but I would not wish to intrude on a family event again!” Caroline said neatly, taking the candlestick and evading Lewis’s observant gaze. “Good night, sir!”

  She could not be sure, but she thought she heard him laugh as she sped up the stairs. When she reached the landing, however, the drawing-room door was just closing, affording a golden glimpse of Julia, now wreathed in smiles. Lewis was bending close to her, touching his glass to hers in a toast. Then the door shut, leaving Caroline out in the dark.

  December, 1811

  The month of December crept in with a return to hard frosts and cold blue skies. Julia’s mood was poor and she vented her spleen on Caroline. Lady Perceval’s promised invitation had arrived and, just as Caroline had expected, it was pointedly addressed to Lewis and Lavender only.

  “The wretched woman knows full well that I am living here too!” Julia screeched, throwing her silver hairbrush across the room so that it bounced off the door panels. “I would hardly expect her to invite you, Caroline, but why should I be excluded, pray? And as for Lewis—” her matching silver comb followed the brush “—he has gone out shooting with a party from Jaffrey House! It isn’t fair! They have always been too high in the instep to acknowledge me, whilst Lavender—” She broke off, almost choking with rage. “That little nonentity—”

  “Pray be calm, Julia,” Caroline said, retrieving the hairbrush. She had already resolved that the only way to sooth Julia was to treat her as she would a child having a tantrum. “Such passion will make you ill! Take several deep breaths and quieten down!”

  Julia glared at her. “Calm! Why should I be calm? Just because my father made his fortune in trade—why, he could have bought them up ten times over! And who are the Brabants, after all? The Admiral was only a younger son, and his wife had no money! Yet they are invited everywhere whilst I am left to rot!”

  Caroline itched to slap her, but reluctantly abandoned the thought. Nor would the truth help at this stage, for it contained the hard fact that Julia was more snobbish than any of her neighbours and was unwelcome more because of her manners than her background.

  “Perhaps the Percevals thought that you would not be staying long,” she said soothingly, “and besides, the situation may work to your benefit in the end.”

  Julia stared at her suspiciously. “What can you mean, Caroline? What possible benefit could there be in being ignored by one of the premier families in the neighbourhood?”

  Caroline continued to fold Julia’s clothes and put them into the chest of drawers. Julia had thrown them all over the floor earlier in her tantrum. “Only that if the Captain and Miss Brabant go to dine at Perceval Hall, they will be sure to invite the family here to Hewly in return, and the Percevals may not refuse!” She looked up to see Julia watching her with a calculating look in her eyes. “That will be your opportunity to act as hostess!”

  “As long as that foolish little whey-faced sister of Lewis’s does not think to act the lady of the manor herself!” Julia said viciously. “Lewis had rather ask a milk-churn to host the Percevals than ask Lavender!”

  Caroline winced. The more friendly she became with Lavender, the more difficult it was to bear Julia’s criticism of her, and Caroline was uncomfortably aware that Lavender Brabant was worth a hundred Julia Chessfords. Not for the first time, Caroline reflected that she should start to look for another position. She had been at Hewly for barely three months, but her difficulties with Julia had already convinced her that a long stay was out of the question. It was not easy to find a suitable position of course, and it might take her some time, which was all the more reason to start at once. There had been Lady Perceval’s kind offer, but that would mean admitting that there were problems at Hewly Manor and Caroline shrank from exposing that to the outside world. Gossip in the villages was bad enough as it was, with everyone knowing each other’s business, or making it up if they did not. She did not imagine that Lady Perceval herself would gossip, but word would get out. It always did.

  There was still Lady Covingham, the mother of her previous charges. She might know of someone in need of a governess. Caroline sighed silently. Anne Covingham had been so delighted that Caroline was going to be companion to an old friend that it would be disappointing to have to admit that matters had not worked out. Still, beggars could not be choosers. Caroline resolved to write that day.

  “I hear that Lewis has invited a friend to visit,” Julia was saying, preening before the mirror now that her good humour was restored. “Captain Slater, with whom Lewis stayed when he was first ashore. Apparently the Captain was invalided out of the Navy a few years back and has a house in Lyme Regis—small fry to Lewis’s fortune, but he might do for you, I suppose, Caroline!”

  Caroline flushed. “Thank you, Julia, but I am not intending to set my cap at Captain Brabant’s friends!”

  Julia shrugged carelessly. “Pon rep, you are very haughty today! Well, I shall not throw h
im in your way if you do not wish to try your luck!” Her sharp gaze appraised Caroline thoughtfully. “I suppose there is always Mr Grizel if you prefer a parson! Now, pray send Letty to me. She is to fit my new dresses!”

  Caroline left the room feeling very short-tempered. She went first to the library and composed a letter to Lady Covingham, enquiring carefully over the possibility of employment. Then, still feeling irritated, she donned a warm cloak and stout shoes, and went out into the garden, hoping that the fresh air would soothe her annoyance. It was a cold day but the fresh chill of the air was bracing.

  The kitchen gardens at Hewly were still tended, and provided fruit and vegetables for both the household and the village, but the Admiral’s gardener had been unable to keep up the flower gardens without any additional help and had reluctantly let these run wild. As far as Caroline could ascertain, it was not a want of money that had led to the neglect of Hewly Manor, but rather the lack of a firm hand on the tiller for the last few years. The servants had high hopes that Lewis would now provide that guidance, and Caroline thought that they were probably correct. She knew they all had high hopes of the Captain and could not believe that these would be dashed. Not unless Lewis chose to sell the estate in time and return to sea…Caroline grimaced. That would be viewed as a sad event in the servants’ hall, but perhaps not so bad as were Julia to become mistress…

  Stifling such disloyal thoughts, Caroline walked briskly past the vegetable beds and into the flower gardens. Now that winter was approaching, she was able to trace the lines of the old garden beneath the weeds and tumbledown walls. Here was the rose walk, the bushes in dire need of a hard pruning, and along the old stone walls were the woody stems of lavender. A faint hint of their scent still hung in the air, taking Caroline back to her youth. She could see her grandmother, a huge apron over her old clothes as she collected sprigs of lavender in the gardens at Watchbell Hall. The tiny scented bags would be placed among the crisp sheets in the linen cupboards and Caroline would go to sleep breathing their perfume.

  She had a sudden, painful pang of nostalgia, a shocking wrench of homesickness that took her completely by surprise. Over the years, Caroline had seldom allowed herself to feel sorry that she had no home of her own, but now her loss suddenly overwhelmed her. She felt as small and lonely as a child.

  She blinked back the tears and hurried out of the rose garden, almost tripping over the fallen sundial in her rush to escape her memories. She had no real notion where she was going, but she turned sharply into the topiary walk, where the flagged path gave way to a grassy avenue of yew. Rounding a corner, she collided with a figure standing in the shadow of one of the huge trees. Strong arms immediately encircled her, setting her back on her feet. She swayed a little and the arms tightened, steadying her.

  “Miss Whiston?” Lewis’s voice was close in her ear. “Are you quite well, ma’am?”

  Being so close to Lewis again felt both disturbingly familiar and confusing to Caroline’s already troubled mind. She pulled back sharply.

  “I beg your pardon, sir. I…” Caroline broke off. Her voice was still shaky with tears and for a moment she was afraid that it would desert her completely. Worse, she now realised that Lewis was not alone, for Belton, the gardener, was close by and he and Lewis had evidently been consulting over the need to cut the yews down to their original size. A stepladder was propped against the hedge and various gardening tools lay scattered across the path. Feeling foolish, Caroline tried to walk past, but Lewis stayed her by the simple expedient of keeping hold of her arm.

  “A moment, Miss Whiston! It is fortunate that you passed this way, for I wonder if you could spare me a little of your time?” He turned to the gardener. “Thank you very much, Belton. We will talk on this again soon.”

  The gardener touched his cap and nodded to Caroline before moving off in an unhurried manner towards his greenhouses. Once he was out of sight, Caroline turned to Lewis and pointedly pulled her arm from his grip.

  “What do you mean by restraining me thus, sir? And in front of your servants! I intended to walk by—” Her words came out with more sharpness than she had intended and she stopped, realising that her recent distress was still close to the surface. She had the disturbing feeling that Lewis, whose eyes were moving slowly over her face, was also aware of the fact.

  “I realise that,” he said gently. “That was why I stopped you. I was concerned that there might be something wrong and thought that I might be able to help. You seem a little distraught, Miss Whiston.”

  Caroline realised with dismay that her tears had dried on her cheeks, leaving tell-tale marks below her eyes. She felt confused by his perception and brushed them away self-consciously.

  “It was nothing, sir. There is nothing the matter.”

  Having rubbed her face, Caroline turned her attention to removing some stray leaves from her cloak. She did not look at him. There was a silence.

  “I see,” Lewis said slowly. “That would account for your tears, of course. Well, if you do not wish to tell me I cannot force you to do so—”

  “I was feeling foolishly nostalgic,” Caroline said in a rush, “and I fear I was not looking where I was going. Pray do not let me take you from your work, sir.”

  “Perhaps you might accompany me,” Lewis suggested quietly. “I am planning improvements to the gardens, as you see, and would appreciate your advice. Will you help?”

  Caroline found herself taking his arm and walking slowly down the grassy path. She was not entirely sure how she had come to accept Lewis’s suggestion, for her first instinct had been to flee from him. Now, however, he was talking of his plans and she was soon distracted.

  “I am hoping that we might eventually re-create the gardens that were here when Hewly was part of the Perceval estate,” Lewis was saying, holding some trailing sprays of honeysuckle aside for Caroline to follow him into the first of the walled gardens. “There are still designs of the ground plan in the Library. Belton’s grandfather tended the gardens here in the early days of George III and he tells me that they were spoken of as very fine. There was a series of walled gardens here with fruit and cold frames, and any number of fine trees in the park. There is much work to do but I feel I must make a start.”

  Caroline hesitated. She remembered Lavender saying that she was not sure if Lewis would even wish to stay at Hewly. It seemed strangely reassuring that he was planning a restoration project, for surely he would not trouble to do so if he intended to sell the estate. She looked about her carefully, at the old, tumbledown walls and the trailing strands of honeysuckle and rose. In the summer the walled gardens would be a charming sun-trap, but now they just looked neglected and lost.

  “I imagine that such a scheme would take several years,” she said tentatively, “though it would surely be worthwhile in the end.”

  “Why, so I hope!” Lewis smiled at her. He was assessing the state of the masonry with an experienced eye. “If I am to remain here at Hewly I intend to try to restore it to some of its former glory! Though whether I shall be able to create a lake to assuage my need for the sea, I am not so sure!”

  Caroline laughed aloud. “Perhaps you could design a lake, or at least a small pond! Is there not a stream that runs across the far side of the orchard? It drains into the river and I am sure you could dam it if you wished to emulate the work of garden designers of old!” She brushed her fingers against the wall. “This seems sound enough, and I believe I have seen some statuary in these gardens too…” She pushed aside a huge clump of nettles with a gloved hand. “Yes, here is one! I am sure that you will find that the foundations of the garden are still here under all the weeds…”

  Lewis had come across to see the statue. It was of a stone cherub, curly-haired and with an innocently saucy tilt to its head. Lewis leant over and Caroline was suddenly sharply aware of his nearness. The wind was ruffling his thick fair hair and he pushed it back from his eyes with an impatient hand. The hard lines of his cheek and jaw were so clos
e that she had to prevent herself from reaching out to trace them with her fingers. He touched the cherub’s head lightly and Caroline was shocked to feel the echo of that touch through her own body. She turned away abruptly, afraid that her face would betray her.

  Suddenly the cold day seemed as bright and hot as high summer. With heightened awareness, Caroline knew that Lewis was watching her and had sensed her feelings. She caught a stem of honeysuckle between her fingers and cast desperately around for some topic to lessen the tension.

  “This is growing wild now, but Belton could soon clip it back into shape—”

  Lewis’ fingers covered hers on the stem. She could feel the warmth of his touch through her gloves and fell silent. Then his hand came up and brushed a stray strand of hair back from her face.

  “Keep still.” His voice was husky. “You have a briar rose caught in your hair…” He untangled it deftly, the touch of his fingers against her skin making Caroline shiver. She stepped back abruptly and almost fell over a low wall.

  “I must go now,” she said, knowing she sounded breathless. Her heart was beating fast and she could not look at Lewis. “Mrs Chessford…she is having her dresses fitted…she may need me…”

  It was as though the mention of Julia’s name caused some kind of constraint between them. Lewis stepped back, his expression unreadable, and Caroline shot through the door in the wall as though the hounds of Hades were at her heels. She turned towards the house, hoping desperately that Lewis would not follow her. She needed some time to calm herself.

  “Slow down, or you may trip again,” Lewis caught up with her as she reached the yew walk. He spoke in impersonal tones and when Caroline glanced at his face she saw with relief that it was quite expressionless. That extraordinary moment in the walled garden might never have occurred. Only the slight trembling of her hands betrayed the fact that it had.

  “You mentioned feeling nostalgic, Miss Whiston,” Lewis said, after a moment. “Tell me, where was your home originally?”