The Fickle Bride
The Markhams were a highly
respected family residing in the county of Hertfordshire. They were well-to-do
and respectable, and no one would have suspected them of having any ambitions
beyond that of remaining well-to-do, and respectable, and, to say the truth,
they did not have any. Sir Hugh Markham, the present Baronet, and his lady had
four children -- three of them daughters, alas -- and the only expectation Lady
Markham had for her children was to marry them off suitably. Sir Hugh, though
he agreed with his wife's opinion as far as the girls were concerned, had some
more varied hopes regarding his son, such as his doing well in school and
learning to be a good landlord, like his father and grandfather had been before
him, but on the whole he was content to leave his children's upbringing to
their mother, who was a loving as well as capable mother.
Katharine, or Kate, Sir Hugh and
Lady Markham's eldest daughter, had exceeded her mother's expectations by far.
During her first Season in London, she had captured the heart of one of the
most eligible bachelors in England, Lord Gregory Andell. Lord Gregory was the
Duke of Burwell's second son, which might have discouraged many a matchmaking
mama, had it not been known that His Grace of Burwell had every intention of
providing for all his offspring -- and providing for them liberally. As
it was, Lord Gregory was known to be rich, and besides one never knew -- his
elder brother, the Marquis of Asterby, showed no inclination towards marriage,
and Lord Gregory's wife might well end up a Duchess one day. No wonder it was,
then, that before his marriage Lord Gregory Andell had been one of the most
sought-after bachelors in London. There had been a great deal of indignant and
malicious gossip in Town when Lord Gregory had offered for Katharine Markham, a
mere baronet's daughter. He, who could have looked as high for a bride as he
chose, throwing himself away in such a reckless manner!
When Lord Asterby had failed to
make an appearance at his brother's wedding, many had suspected that this was
because he disapproved of his brother's choice of wife. Nothing could have been
further off the mark, however. The Marquis had not attended his brother's
wedding because he had fallen ill, and had therefore been unable to travel to
London for the event. When Lord and Lady Gregory, after spending their
honeymoon on the Continent, returned to their new home which was in close
proximity to His Grace of Burwell's principal seat, Lord Asterby had been one
of the first to welcome the young lady into his family, and nothing could have
exceeded his cordiality on the occasion, or so Kate had written to her mother.
She continued to be on the best of terms with her husband's relatives, and her
marriage appeared to be a very happy one. By now, she had been married for
almost a year, and was expecting her first child.
Barbara, Sir Hugh Markham's
second daughter, did not expect to make a match as brilliant as Kate when she
embarked on her first London Season. Barbara knew she was one of the
better-looking females, there was no doubt about that, but she was lacking
Kate's charm and beauty. She was known for her good sense, and her
dependability, but neither of these characteristics was likely to captivate a
man, though her mother often told her that gentlemen wanted a dependable wife,
and Barbara did not doubt that either. But one would have to look past the
outward appearance in order to find her good qualities, and most men she knew
did not bother to do so.
Barbara's second London Season
was almost at an end, and still she had received no eligible offer of marriage.
She did not worry too much about that, but her mother was beginning to feel
uneasy on her behalf. A girl not married after her second Season was almost on
the shelf, a fate that Lady Markham did not wish to befall any of her
daughters.
There was one gentleman who was
showing some interest, though. Mr. Thomas Nash had danced with Barbara at
almost every ball or assembly she had attended of late, and had sought her
company during other functions whenever he had been able to. He was a
creditable parti -- a young man embarking on a political career, having just
been elected Member of Parliament for a London constituency, and determined to
do well. His fortune was large enough to provide him with a genteel income, and
so Lady Markham had taken great pains to encourage the young man. He would do
very well for Barbara, she thought, and lost no opportunity for telling her so.
With such support, Mr. Nash's
proposal did not come as a big surprise to Barbara. She had suspected something
of that sort would happen, and in the firm belief that she could do worse but
was unlikely to do any better she accepted his offer, thereby gaining her
parents' full approval.
Barbara liked her husband-to-be
well enough, but she was far from being in love with him. Mr. Nash had many
good qualities -- he was a kind-hearted gentleman, with excellent manners and a
great deal of intelligence, and though he was not exactly handsome he was not
ill-looking either. One thing that Barbara did not like about him, though, was
his tendency to disregard her opinions and to dismiss them as foolish notions --
but that fault, her mother had assured her, was not past mending.
"Once you are married, he will
come to appreciate your good sense, my dear," Lady Markham had said to her, and
Barbara, not knowing any better, had taken her mother's assurance at face
value. Mr. Nash did not know her very well, after all, and would in time learn
to take her seriously, as other people had done before him.
The announcement of Barbara's
betrothal was duly made, and a date for her marriage to Mr. Nash was settled
upon. The wedding was to take place at Michaelmas, by which time Kate would
have given birth to her child and, God willing, would have recovered enough to
be able to travel into Hertfordshire to attend her sister's nuptials. Mr. Nash
had hoped to get married sooner, but Barbara had put her foot down -- she did
not want to get married without her sister, she said, and it was unthinkable
that Lady Gregory Andell would travel across half the country in her condition.
The letter arrived one morning,
just as Barbara and her mother had returned to their house from a shopping
expedition. It was from Lord Gregory, and the news it contained was of an
alarming nature. Kate had suffered some complications, and although she was in
no danger herself, the doctor was anxious lest she should give birth two months
early, which might put the baby in danger. He had therefore ordered her to stay
quietly in bed for the remainder of her pregnancy, hoping to postpone her going
into labour that way.
It was plain that Lord Gregory
was highly anxious, which was not surprising, Lady Markham said. Men did not
like being helpless and in situations they had no power of changing, and
anything pertaining to childbirth was just such a situation.
"I know my request comes at a
most inopportune moment,"
the letter finished. "You must be very busy, preparing for Barbara's
wedding. But Kate being who she is, she is feeling excessively bored, and much
though I try to cheer her up, I am afraid the only effect my efforts are having
on her is that she is also heartily sick of having me around at all times. She
has already threatened to get up again, in spite of the doctor's orders and my
pleas. I cannot help but be uneasy on this account, and was hoping that you, or
Barbara, or maybe even both of you could come and visit us, and make her see
some sense. We must not allow Kate to put herself into danger."
Lady Markham quite agreed with
Lord Gregory's way of thinking, but found it impossible for her to leave London
just now.
"There is so much that needs to
be done," she sighed. "Poor Kate! Barbara, you must go to her."
"But, Mama..." Barbara protested.
"What about those wedding preparations? I do not want to leave you alone with
all the work! And we still haven't finished buying my trousseau."
"Oh, the modiste has your
measurements," Lady Markham reassured her. "She will be able to finish her task
without you, I am sure. Besides, you will come back once Kate's child is born.
No doubt it will be an early birth in spite of the doctor's efforts, so you
will be back in town in time for the final fittings. As for the rest of the
arrangements, I can well manage without you, my dear. Do not forget that this
is not the first time for me to arrange a wedding -- and in the unlikely case I
should need some help, there is still Elizabeth." Elizabeth was Barbara's
youngest sister.
"But will Kate listen to me?"
Barbara argued. "I do not know a thing about pregnancy, or giving birth, so she
may not consider my advice in these matters."
"She has a doctor to advise her,
and a mother-in-law living practically next door," Lady Markham said. "But she
may want you to entertain her. And consider this -- it may be the last time you
can have your sister all to yourself - well, almost. Once her child is born,
and you are married, things will be very different between you, believe me."
There was some truth in that,
Barbara had to admit. She had missed her sister, and the prospect of spending
some time with her appealed to her, in spite of the circumstances.
"I wonder what Mr. Nash will
say," Barbara wondered. "I am afraid he will not like my going off like that."
"But surely he will understand!"
Lady Markham cried. "He cannot have any objections to your going to visit your
sister."
Mr. Nash did not have any
objections. Instead, he applauded Barbara's devotion to her family and her
sense of duty, and expressed the hope that witnessing Lady Gregory Andell's
domestic bliss would persuade Barbara to move her own wedding forward.
"I doubt it will," Barbara said
with a smile.
"But can you blame me for being
impatient?" Mr. Nash asked, taking her hand.
"No, I do not blame you,"
Barbara replied. "But what difference does a month or two make, when we will be
married for decades anyway?"
Mr. Nash laughed. "Are you able
to see what the future holds in store for us?" he asked.
"No, but in all likelihood we
will be married for a while," Barbara retorted. "You had better enjoy being a
single man while you still can, sir."
In the end it was decided that
Barbara would travel to her sister's home in Somerset alone, and that she would
send her mother an express in any case of emergency. So, one morning in June,
Barbara took leave of her parents, sister and brother, and got into the
carriage that was to take her to Borrowdale House, her brother-in-law's home. Mr.
Nash had offered to escort her, and Barbara's father had been quick to accept
the offer on his daughter's behalf. There was no more proper person than
Barbara's future husband to escort her, Sir Hugh had said, and besides it would
give them the opportunity to get to know each other better. How they would
manage to do so, with Mr. Nash riding alongside her carriage while she was
sitting inside, Barbara did not know but did not say so.
Mr. Nash turned out to be a
useful travelling companion though. He saw to her every comfort, which gave
Barbara a favourable picture of his qualities as a husband, behaved in a very
gentlemanlike manner at all times, and safely delivered her to her
brother-in-law's front door the day after they had set out from London.
Borrowdale House was a large
Elizabethan building, only four miles from Burwell Castle, the Duke of
Burwell's principal seat. Its previous owner had been obliged to sell it, and
His Grace had jumped at the chance to purchase it, thereby supplying his second
son with a substantial property. Upon Lord Gregory's marriage, the house had
been completely renovated and refurnished, so although it had every appearance
of an Elizabethan home from the outside, its interior was rather modern, and
lacking none of the modern amenities.
As Barbara's carriage drew up in
front of the house, the front door opened and two footmen as well as a butler
came outside to receive her. By the time Barbara alighted from the carriage,
the master of the house and another young gentleman had come outside as well to
welcome the visitors.
Barbara did not need an
introduction to know who the second gentleman was. She had heard enough about
Lord Asterby to recognise him at first sight. From her sister's letters she
knew that he was a frequent visitor in his brother's home, that he was neither
as tall nor as good-looking as his younger brother, and that in consequence of
a riding accident he had had as an eighteen-year-old he walked with a slight
limp, using a stick.
Furthermore, London gossip had
informed her that his lordship did not often come to Town, that he abhorred
balls and assemblies (which, in view of his disability, was probably no
wonder), and that he had no taste for the shallowness of fashionable life. He
was a sportsman; according to his brother he was a decent shot and, in spite of
his accident, a dashing rider. But he did not excel in any line of sport, and
so his sporting career was as unremarkable as his private life.
Barbara's brother-in-law came
towards her and welcomed her with a smile.
"I am glad you could come," he
said. "From the moment Kate knew you would, she has been behaving in an
exemplary fashion, or so the doctor told me, and I have the greatest trust in
your influence with her. I have the strictest orders to take you to Kate the
moment you arrive."
"I will be glad to see her,"
Barbara said, shaking hands with Lord Gregory.
"You have not met my brother
yet, have you?" Lord Gregory asked. "He was just about to leave, but I made him
stay to welcome my guests along with me. Lord Asterby, Barbara -- my eldest
brother."
"I am pleased to make your
acquaintance at last, my lord," Barbara said, curtseying. Lord Asterby bowed,
and said that the pleasure was all his. There was something in his tone of
voice that made Barbara like him instantly. It was probably the sincerity with
which he spoke. Even though he had uttered a polite phrase she had heard dozens
of times before, it had sounded as if he really meant it. There was none of the
studied boredom one so often encountered among members of the Ton, and no trace
of arrogance either.
Barbara proceeded to introduce her escort to her
brother-in-law and Lord Asterby, and it turned out that they were already
acquainted. Both Mr. Nash and the two brothers frequented White's, and had met
there occasionally. Lord Asterby then took his leave, promising to call on Kate
again the next day to bring her some novels she wanted to read, and Lord
Gregory took Barbara and Mr. Nash into the house.
Chapter 2
"I am much obliged to you for
letting Barbara come to see us," Lord Gregory said to Mr. Nash as he led them
into a large, tastefully furnished drawing-room. "I promise I will take good
care of her."
"If I had had any doubt in that
matter, I would indeed have objected to her plan," Mr. Nash smiled, confident
that his objection would matter to her. "But Barbara is so attached to her
sister that I would have felt like a monster, had I prevented her visit. -- This
is a beautiful place you have here, my lord. How far is it to Bath?"
"Oh, some fifteen miles or so,"
Lord Gregory said. "An easy distance, I should say."
"Indeed."
"My wife quite likes it there --
she goes shopping in Bath at least once a week. Or used to, before she was
obliged to keep to her room. Which reminds me," Lord Gregory turned to Barbara.
"You will want to see Kate, won't you?"
Barbara replied in the
affirmative, and Lord Gregory rang for the housekeeper to take her to her
ladyship's private sitting room. "For she will not stay in bed, you know," he
remarked, while waiting for that worthy's appearance. "She says she will not
receive visitors in her bedroom, unless she is mortally sick or in her dotage.
Since she is neither, she insists on getting up, getting dressed and going to
her sitting-room. But at least she keeps to her sofa there, so I will not
complain. One has to be grateful for the small mercies."
The housekeeper's arrival put an
end to Lord Gregory's confidences. She took Barbara upstairs using the Grand
Staircase (the only part of the house that had not been altered beyond
recognition, Kate had told Barbara in one of her letters), and led her into a
large, airy room on the first floor.
"There you are at last!" Kate
cried when Barbara entered the room. "I thought I'd have to get up and drag you
up here in person to get you to come and sit with me! I don't know what Gregory
was up to, keeping you downstairs for so long! But let me look at you -- you do
look well. The almost-married state becomes you."
Barbara blushed, and demurred.
Kate laughed. "Come now, Barbara, there's no reason to be shy! Not with me, at
any rate. Do sit down and tell me all about your engagement and how it came
about -- and don't you dare to leave out the interesting bits." She patted the
sofa invitingly.
Barbara sat down next to her
sister, and said, "I am sorry to disappoint you, but there is really nothing I
could tell you. Mr. Nash asked me to marry him, and I said I would. End of
story."
"You are not in love with him,
then?" Kate asked, the laugh suddenly disappearing from her face.
"Not really," Barbara confessed.
"Though I do like him -- I think we shall deal quite well together."
"Let us hope you are right,"
Kate said, looking rather worried and not at all convinced.
"I could at least have had the
decency to fall in love with my betrothed, couldn't I?" Barbara laughed. "Now I
haven't even got a romantic story to amuse you with!"
"Shame on you," Kate said
laughingly, having recovered her cheeriness.
Barbara gave her sister a
look-over. "You do look radiant, though," she said.
"Of course I do. I am pregnant,
not ill, whatever Gregory or Mr. Phibbs -- that is the doctor, you must know --
say. Even if the little rascal in there is in a bit of a hurry to be born, but
I do not mind that. I am quite ready to take him into my arms whenever he
chooses to let me do so."
"You think the baby is a boy?"
"I would be greatly surprised if
he was not," Kate replied. "There has been no girl born into the Andell family
for the past hundred and fifty years or so. Lady Mary Andell was the last one,
I think -- and after that grim example it is no wonder that the family stuck to
having boys only."
"Why, what was wrong with Lady
Mary?" Barbara asked, laughing.
"Have a look at her portrait
when you come to the Castle -- and you will. The Duchess has every intention of
welcoming you there as soon as she can. Matthew told me so."
"Matthew?" Barbara asked,
frowning.
"My brother-in-law, Lord
Asterby."
"Oh, I see. Does he come here
often?"
"Oh yes he does, whenever he is
staying in Burwell Castle that is -- he does not live here, you know, but has
property of his own in Wiltshire, and visits his parents occasionally, and is
there for us whenever we need him. You see, he and Gregory have always been
very close, and so they try to see each other as often as they can. The Duke
and Duchess come here quite frequently too, and I am sure David would do so as well
if it were not for his regiment being stationed in France at the moment. The
Andells are a very close-knit family."
Barbara had met Captain Lord
David Andell, the Duke of Burwell's youngest son, at her sister's wedding, and
had had quite a favourable impression of him.
"It is a bit unusual for one of
those great families, don't you think?" Barbara said. "One never hears about
some of them without everyone saying how much they detest each other."
Kate agreed, but pointed out
that his Grace of Burwell had often been mistaken for a country squire, since
his whole attitude was as un-ducal as could be.
"Dukes are said to be terribly
high in the instep, but have you ever met anyone less arrogant than Burwell? I
haven't. Actually, we think it is small wonder that Asterby turned out to be
the way he is -- he simply takes after his father. Or so the Duchess says, and
she ought to know."
Barbara agreed. She had not seen
much of her sister's in-laws, but they had seemed to her like a very kind and
affectionate couple, who doted on each other as well as their offspring. The
Andells, it appeared, were indeed a happy family. How unfashionable.
Barbara sat with Kate for almost
an hour, exchanging family news and gossip. It was almost like the good old
days, Barbara thought, when they had sat together in their mother's parlour,
laughing and talking and quite forgetting the time. They were reminded of it
when the door opened and Lord Gregory came in.
"I have conducted Mr. Nash to
his room," he said, "and thought I'd look in on you before I get dressed for
dinner." He gave his wife a brief hug and kiss. "Did you miss me?" he asked,
with a roguish glitter in his eyes.
"Not at all," Kate retorted. "I
had Barbara with me, and was perfectly comfortable. In fact, it was much nicer not
having you with us; that way I could abuse you to my heart's content."
"I am glad you finally got an
opportunity to do so," Lord Gregory said, seemingly unperturbed by his wife's
teasing, and turned to Barbara. "Since Kate cannot do so, I have asked her maid
to show you to your room," he said. "You may want to rest before dinner -- and
we dine in an hour."
"In that case, I had better get
ready," Barbara said and rose. "I will come back to you after dinner, Kate -- I
do not suppose you will join us at the table?"
"No, she will not," Lord Gregory
said, pleasantly but firmly, before Kate could answer. Barbara could see that
Kate did not like that decision, but agreed with her brother-in-law. The doctor
had told Kate to remain in bed, and Kate was taking enough risks as it was. At
least her husband had enough sense to take care of her, since she did not seem
to care overly much.
Barbara quickly dressed for
dinner, and arrived in the drawing-room only a few minutes after the gentlemen.
Her fiancé gave her a smile of approval, and Lord Gregory apologised for having
put her in such a hurry.
"I should have sent someone up
earlier," he said. "No one could expect you or Kate to think about the time,
when you had not met for ages! It was my mistake."
Barbara assured him that she had
not been in a hurry at all, that she had had plenty of time to get ready for
dinner, and said she hoped she had not kept the gentlemen waiting for too long.
"Not at all," Lord Gregory said
and, since the butler at that moment announced that dinner was served, led her
into the dining room.
It was a peculiar dinner party,
considering that their hostess was dining all by herself, and upstairs. Upon
inquiry, Lord Gregory told Barbara that he had taken to dining with Kate in her
sitting room since the doctor had ordered her to stay in bed, but that Kate had
told him to entertain their guests in a proper style, which was why they would
not see Kate until after dinner.
"She says it is not seemly to
eat one's dinner lying down on the sofa," he said, "and would not subject her
guests to such a spectacle."
While Barbara would not have
minded joining her sister and brother-in-law in Kate's sitting room, she
suspected that Mr. Nash's notion of propriety would in all probability forbid him
to take part in such an outrageous venture. She was right. He looked so
horrified when Lord Gregory mentioned the possibility that Barbara had to bite
her lower lip to keep herself from laughing out loud.
"My wife hopes you will keep her
company after dinner, however," Lord Gregory said, and added, with a grin,
"Once she has been fed and cleaned up, she is no danger to anyone, I assure
you." Mr. Nash's expression of horror had not escaped Lord Gregory's notice, it
appeared, and instead of being offended Lord Gregory had chosen to make fun of
him.
Barbara laughed, while Mr. Nash
seemed shocked that anyone could speak of his wife in such a way -- even if he
was only funning.
After dinner, Barbara went back
upstairs to her sister's sitting-room, while Lord Gregory and Mr. Nash remained
in the dining room to drink a glass of port and discuss politics. They joined
them half an hour later, and though Mr. Nash seemed a trifle uncomfortable at
first, Kate's open and friendly manner soon put him at ease. She invited him to
sit down next to her on the sofa, asked him some questions regarding his
family, his career and his interests, and they spent a comfortable half-hour
comparing their impressions of Italy, which they had both visited.
When the tea-tray was brought in,
Kate asked Barbara to do the honours, since she was not supposed to get up.
"I cannot tell you how tiresome
it is, sir," she turned to Mr. Nash. "I am feeling very well, in fact, but I am
following the doctor's orders nevertheless, for my husband's sake rather than
my own. He is very uneasy on my account, and try as I might I could not
convince him that there is nothing wrong with me."
"I had rather be safe than
sorry, that is all," Lord Gregory remarked. "And do not blame me for being
worried, for I cannot help it."
"I did not say I blamed you, my
dear," Kate retorted. "I cooperate, don't I?"
"I am much obliged to you," Lord
Gregory said, and gave his wife's hand an affectionate squeeze.
It warmed Barbara's heart to see
the happy glow in her sister's eyes as she smiled at her husband. They might
banter from time to time, Barbara thought, but there was no denying how much
they loved each other. She wondered how she and Mr. Nash would fare, once they
were married, though she did not think Mr. Nash would ever show his affection
when they had company. He had never done so, at least, although there was the
occasional kiss when they were alone. But then Lord Gregory and Mr. Nash were
two very different men, and she and Kate were different too. Things would work
out well for her somehow, Barbara thought, and no doubt she too would find
happiness in her marriage, even if her future husband was not in the habit of
caressing her in public. Still, Barbara could not deny that it made her feel
all warm inside to see the loving way Lord Gregory had of dealing with his wife
-- and, she had to admit, it even made her feel a trifle envious.
Not that Thomas Nash's
leave-taking left anything to be desired. When Kate went to bed, Lord Gregory
excused himself for a moment, suddenly remembering there was something he
needed to say to his wife, and left Barbara and Mr. Nash alone in Kate's
sitting room.
"I think I will be off to bed
too," Barbara remarked. "It has been a long day, and the journey was rather
tiring."
"So it was," Mr. Nash agreed,
got up from his chair and sat down next to her. "I will have to start my
journey back to London early tomorrow morning," he said. "Probably before you
get up, so -- so I think it will be better if I take my leave now."
"Oh -- already? I thought you
might stay here for a day or two," Barbara said.
"I never said I would, did I?"
he asked.
"No, you did not, but somehow I
presumed -- never mind. I daresay you have a great deal of business in London."
"Unfortunately," he said. "There
is much work to be done and I am trying to get as much done as possible so I
will be free to spend some time with you once we are married." He took her hand
and kissed it. "I will miss you," he said.
"I will not be gone for long,"
Barbara reminded him.
"I shall count the days
nevertheless." He took her into his arms and kissed her. "Take care of
yourself," he said. "Though I do not doubt you are in good hands. Even if
Lord Gregory is a very indifferent chaperon, but I am not one to complain."
Barbara laughed. "I think he
just wanted to give us an opportunity to say goodbye to each other in private,"
she said.
"I like a man who has some
sympathy for young lovers." Mr. Nash grinned.
"Well, it was not so long ago
that he was courting my sister," Barbara said. "No doubt he remembers how
difficult it was for him to steal a minute or two alone with Kate."
Lord Gregory's sympathy for a
pair of lovers did not go so far as to leave them to themselves for long,
though. He returned to the sitting room only five minutes after he had left
them, and Barbara wished both gentlemen a good night and retired to her room.
She soon fell into a sound, dreamless sleep.
Not so her sister. She tossed
and turned for almost an hour after her husband had joined her in her room, and
finally whispered, "Gregory? Are you awake?"
"Yes," was her husband's sleepy
reply.
Kate chuckled. "No, I woke you,"
she said.
"You did, love. But what is the
matter?" He sat up, suddenly wide awake. "Do you want me to get the doctor?"
"No, love. Calm down, I am
fine," Kate said. "No, it is just ... I am worried about Barbara."
Lord Gregory gave a sigh of
relief, and lay back in his pillows. "But why? She looked perfectly healthy and
happy to me. I do not claim to be an expert in these matters though; I am sure
you know her better than I do."
"I do not think she is very
happy," Kate confessed. "That betrothal of hers ... I am afraid she made a
mistake there."
"There is nothing wrong with Tom
Nash," Gregory said, trying to soothe her. "He may be a trifle stuffy, but he
is a good sort, and he seems to be fond of her."
"But I do not think she is fond
of him," Kate said. "And I cannot watch my sister dive headlong into misery
without trying to do something about it."
"If she was really about to do
such a foolish thing, I would agree with you. But what makes you think we
should meddle?"
"For one, she told me she was
not in love with Mr. Nash," Kate said.
Gregory sighed. "Kate, dearest,
perhaps she is just not certain what she wants, and doubts her feelings. Did
you consider that?"
"Yes, I did, but it is just not
like Barbara," Kate insisted.
"Even supposing that she is not
in love with Nash, as you said," Gregory observed. "That does not give us the
right to meddle in her affairs."
"I am not going to meddle, I
just feel I ought to do something -- warn her -- whatever."
"Your sister is a grown woman,
Kate and she does not want for sense. Let her deal with this problem herself.
She will make the right decision in the end, I am sure."
"I do not want her to be unhappy
in her marriage," Kate said.
"You know," Gregory said, and
took his wife into his arms, "my parents' marriage was an arranged one. They
barely knew each other when my grandparents made the match for them. Still look
at them today -- would you suspect that their marriage had been a marriage of
convenience?"
Kate shook her head. "No, I
would not."
"What I mean to say," Gregory
continued, "sometimes even those marriage turn out to be happy ones. Let
Barbara do what she thinks is right, Kate. She is old enough to know her own
mind."
"Maybe you are right," Kate
said.
"Of course I am," her husband said. "Now try and go to
sleep, love."
Chapter 3
When Barbara got up the next
morning, Mr. Nash was already gone. As Lord Gregory informed her when she met
him at the breakfast table, Mr. Nash had risen early and had been on his way
back to Town well before seven o'clock.
"Did you see him off, then?"
Barbara asked.
"Naturally. I felt it was only
decent to do so. It won't do to let one's guests steal away at the break of
day."
"I should have got up, too,"
Barbara said. "Why did no one wake me?"
"Nash did not want it," her
brother-in-law told her, and added, grinning, "He was probably afraid of the
grand farewell scene."
Barbara laughed. "He knows me
better than to think I would make a scene," she said. "I think he merely
thought I needed some rest after the long journey we had. Mr. Nash is very
considerate."
"No doubt he is." Lord Gregory
handed Barbara a plate with some slices of ham. "What would you like to do
today?" he asked, effectively putting an end to the discussion of Barbara's
future husband.
"I think I will go and sit with
Kate for a while," she replied. "This is what I came for -- to keep her
company."
"When I asked you to do so I did
not presume you would sit with her all day, however," Lord Gregory laughed.
"And you know Kate would not ask it of you either. She wants you to enjoy your
visit. So, apart from sitting with your sister for a while, what would you like
to do? I could take you out in my curricle later on, to show you around. Or you
could go and explore the garden, if your interests run in that direction. Kate
has done a great deal to improve it since we arrived here; she is prodigiously
satisfied with her achievements."
Since Barbara shared her
sister's enthusiasm for horticulture, she said that she would really like to do
this. "Though it seems a shame that Kate cannot show me around in person," she
added. "Especially since she put so much effort into her garden -- she told me
all about it, in her letters."
"She will be happy to discuss it
with you, though, once you have seen it all."
"Oh, she will, I have no doubt
about that." Barbara smiled.
"I will ask the gardener to give
you a tour of the garden, then," Lord Gregory said. "I would do so myself, but
the sad truth is that I know nothing of gardening so you would find me an
extremely useless guide."
Barbara laughed. "The gardener
will do very well, I think."
"I will let him know," Lord
Gregory said. "Oh, and my mother and brother are going to come over in the
afternoon. Or so my brother told me yesterday."
"I am looking forward to meeting
the Duchess again," Barbara said. "And your brother, of course," she added as
an afterthought.
"Together we will be able to
come up with some programme for your entertainment," Lord Gregory said with a
grin. "Just you wait. You will not miss the gaieties of London for a minute."
"I do not think I will miss them
at all," Barbara said. "I am a country person at heart. How anyone could ever
be bored while staying in the country is a mystery to me."
Yates, Lord Gregory's gardener,
was delighted to get a chance to show off her ladyship's improvements, and even
more delighted to find that her ladyship's sister was just as knowledgeable as
her ladyship herself. By the time they had finished their tour of the
Borrowdale House gardens, Barbara had made a new friend.
They discussed the respective
merits of roses and rhododendrons, agreed that while a knot garden in the Tudor
style was old-fashioned it looked charming in these settings, and Barbara was
impressed to hear that her ladyship had made plans for setting up an Italian
garden the following year.
"I'm glad her ladyship knows so
much about these things," Yates concluded by the time they walked back to the
house. "It's so often that grand ladies like her have all sorts of plans, but
no idea how much work it is going to be to carry them out, and all they care
for is making their garden look all the crack. What's the point in having a
fake ruin in the park just because everyone else does, I wonder? And maybe
they'll have it pulled down in a year or two because it's no longer
fashionable." Yates gave an indignant snort to indicate what he thought
of such queer starts.
Barbara laughed and agreed that
such measures seemed a trifle excessive. She thanked Yates for his time, handed
him a generous tip which raised her even further in his esteem, and walked back
to the house, using a roundabout path so she could enjoy the beauty of the
grounds in peace and quiet.
By the time she arrived in her
sister's room, Kate was all agog to hear her opinion of the gardens. They
discussed the alterations Kate had undertaken so far, and Kate eagerly
explained her further plans, which included the Italian garden Yates had
already mentioned, but also some kind of wilderness and a waterfall.
"I thought Yates disapproves of
those newfangled ideas," Barbara said.
"Yes, it might take me some time
to reconcile him to this one," Kate said meditatively. "But it is by no means
impossible, believe me. Yates dotes on me -- I can twist him round my little
finger if I want to."
"I do not doubt that for a
moment," Barbara laughed. "Poor Yates."
Her Grace of Burwell arrived in
her landaulet in the afternoon, escorted by her eldest son who was riding
alongside her carriage. Barbara watched their arrival from the window of her sister's
sitting room, where she had been sitting and reading to Kate while Kate had set
some stitches to her embroidery.
She informed her sister of who
had come, and sat down in the window seat again, putting her book aside and
awaiting their visitors. Kate, too, put her tambour frame back into her
workbasket and leaned back on her sofa.
The butler ushered the visitors
into the room, and Barbara got up to greet them.
The Duchess of Burwell was a
lady in her early fifties, rather tall and buxom. Though no one had ever called
her a beauty, it had been the general opinion among the Ton that she had always
been a fine-looking woman, and still was so. Her appearance was certainly
striking -- her fair hair was still the same colour as it had been in her youth,
and though her attire was appropriate for a lady of her age it was also highly
fashionable -- the Duchess of Burwell had been one of the leaders of fashion in
her day, and had no intention of giving up her place in that respect. The
Duchess was famous for her frank, outspoken manner -- she had caused uproar more
than once by saying exactly what she thought without caring who heard her. But
she was also known to be a warm-hearted creature, dotingly fond of her husband
and sons and always ready to come to the rescue if any of her friends or family
was in trouble.
Although Barbara had not met the
Duchess very often, she had grown to like her sister's mother-in-law, and the
Duchess had made no secret of her partiality to Barbara either.
"My dear girl," the Duchess
boomed the moment she perceived Barbara, curtseying. "What nonsense is this? Do
not behave like a serving-maid, for God's sake! You are family! No need to
curtsey! -- And you stay where you are, Kate. Yes, I know you are trying to
think of I don't know how many excuses to get up from this sofa, but it will
not do. I do not want to get into trouble with Gregory, you must know."
Kate giggled. "As if you could
get into trouble with him," she said. "He would forgive you anything!"
"Anything but hurting his wife,
my dear. This is where his tolerance has its limits, and quite right he is
about that."
The Duchess took a seat next to
her daughter-in-law, and patted Kate's hand. "We do not want you to come to any
harm, my dear, so much as you hate it you will do as Mr. Phibbs bids you. He
may be an old woman sometimes, but he is also an excellent physician. Just look
at my eldest here -- without Phibbs, he might well be dead."
"Nonsense, Mother," Lord
Asterby, who had just sat down in a chair next to Barbara, said. "I might be
much worse off than I am, I suppose, but certainly not dead." He turned back to
Barbara and said, "I hope you have had a pleasant stay so far?"
"I am just in the process of
getting acquainted with Borrowdale House," Barbara replied. "It is a beautiful
place."
"Indeed it is. It always has
been, although once its last owner had fallen sick it was sorely neglected and
in danger of coming to ruin. Luckily my father could persuade the heir to sell
it to him."
"Yes, it would have been a pity
if it had been ruined," Barbara said. "The gardener treated me to a tour of the
gardens this morning -- they are fantastic, aren't they?"
"Your sister has a great talent
in that direction," Lord Asterby agreed. "And she means to make further
improvements, I have been told."
"Once she can twist Yates around
her little finger, that is," Barbara said.
"Oh, that should not be much of
a problem," Lord Asterby said with a smile. "I heard he was her devoted slave
already. All she needs to do is wait for the right moment. -- Do you take an
interest in horticulture, Miss Markham?"
"Yes, I do. It is an inclination
that we both inherited from my mother, Kate and I. My sister Elizabeth and my
brother do not share it, though. Do these matters interest you, my lord?"
"Not really, but I do appreciate
beauty when I see it," Lord Asterby replied. "And your sister has created a
paradise almost all by herself."
"With only a little help from
Yates," Barbara agreed, smiling. She liked Lord Asterby. He was so refreshingly
different from all those young aristocrats she had met during her two London
Seasons.
He was not as good-looking as
his brother, but his features were agreeable enough. His hair was darker than
Lord Gregory's, and he was slimmer, probably because he was not as athletic as
his younger brother. His clothes, though they were neat and well-made, were not
of the latest fashion, which led Barbara to suppose that even when he was in
Town Lord Asterby did not mix with the dandy set. He spoke to her easily, but
neither with that studied nonchalance nor, even worse, the impudence that was
considered de rigueur in some circles. Nor was he in the least haughty.
Barbara had liked Lord Gregory almost from the start, but she had not been
prepared for liking his brother even better.
"What are you two talking
about?" the Duchess demanded from across the room.
"Gardening, Mother. Miss Markham
told me she saw Kate's garden today."
"You must tell me how you liked
it, Miss Markham -- but another time. It would be asking too much of you to make
you tell the same tale three times on the same day," the Duchess said. "Kate,
can you spare your sister tomorrow evening? I would like her to dine with us at
the Castle."
"If she wants to go, I will be
happy to send her over," Kate replied. "What do you say, Barbara?"
"Why ... certainly, your grace,"
Barbara said, honoured at having received an invitation so quickly. She had not
expected to dine at the Duke's table on the second evening of her stay. To say
the truth, she had not expected to dine there at all.
"It will not be much of a dinner
party, but you must get out of here occasionally," the Duchess announced. "By
the way, I do not think I have congratulated you on your betrothal, Miss
Markham. Mr. Nash is a very proper young gentleman, or so I have been told. I
wish you both very happy."
"Thank you, your grace."
"Are you to be married soon?"
"At Michaelmas, your grace. We -
that is, I -- wanted to wait until Kate has had her child so she could attend
the wedding."
"Then you had best savour your
last weeks of freedom while you are here," the Duchess said and smiled as
Barbara felt herself blush. "No need to blush, Miss Markham," she said kindly.
"I will not tease you any more. -- I was wondering if you wanted to join me on a
shopping expedition to Bath one day next week. Have you ever been to Bath?"
"No, I have not, your grace --
and I would dearly like to see it."
"I will let you know when I go,
then. Bath is not London, I know, but the shops in Milsom Street leave nothing
to be desired, and there are some really good lending libraries."
"As I know," Kate said. "Matthew
goes there regularly to supply me with books. His work of charity, I think."
Lord Asterby smiled. "I am glad
to be of service, as you know," he said. "How did you like that latest novel I
gave you -- Emma, I think it was?"
"Oh, a great deal! Barbara was
reading it to me, just as you arrived. So diverting!"
"I am glad you enjoyed it -- I
will see if I can get you a novel by the same author next time I go to Bath,
then. -- What do you think of Emma, Miss Markham?" Lord Asterby gave
Barbara an expectant look.
"I must confess that I have not
come across the novel so far," Barbara said. "I will have to take it with me
tonight, to catch up on some reading -- my sister has almost reached the middle
of the tale, and I do not know the beginning, which will not do. But I like it
a great deal."
"Do give me your opinion of it
when you have read some more, then," Lord Asterby said.
Barbara gave him a doubting
look. Could he really be serious? Mr. Nash never asked for her opinion of
anything, and if she shared it with him nevertheless he thought she was
foolish, or simply wrong. Besides, she did not think one would ever catch Mr.
Nash reading a novel. It was decidedly beneath a man of his importance.
But Lord Asterby looked sincere
enough, and so she smiled at him and said, "I shall. Are you a great reader,
sir?"
"Not a great reader, Miss
Markham, though I admit a book can be an agreeable companion when I spend an
evening by myself. It depends on the book, however -- I tend to give sermons a
wide berth, and prefer novels and travel-descriptions."
"They are much more entertaining
than all those improving books, are they not?"
He laughed. "They are. It must
reflect sadly on my character that I have a higher regard for entertainment
than for study, but so it is."
"At least you are honest about
it, my lord, which does give me a favourable impression of your character. I
know ladies who, in public, denounce every knowledge of entertaining
literature, yet I know for a fact that a closer inspection of their workbaskets
would unearth several volumes of Mrs. Radcliffe's work."
"You do not say," Lord Asterby said,
with an amused sparkle in his eyes that strongly reminded Barbara of his
brother.
Kate chuckled. "Oh yes," she
agreed. "Do you remember Felicity Martin, Barbara? She used to keep her novels
hidden under a loose floorboard in her room! Though I do not suppose she has
any need to do so still, with her husband being a writer, too."
"All the more reason, I fear,"
Lord Asterby said. "Writers may care even more than other men. They usually
have strong opinions regarding other writers. Your friend might even be obliged
to read only her husband's work."
"Poor Felicity! In that case she
may have to wait a while until she can read anything again," Kate laughed. "I
hear his muse has deserted him -- if ever he had one."
"That happens to the best of
people, or so I have been told." Lord Asterby smiled.
Lord Gregory, having been
notified of his mother and brother's arrival, came into the room at that point,
and soon he and Lord Asterby were discussing the horse Lord Gregory had bought
a week or so before, while Barbara and Kate were talking to the Duchess.
Since Barbara was not familiar with the surroundings yet, she was mainly
listening to their discussion -- she knew nothing about the Duchess' charity
projects, in which Kate was also involved, or about local customs. But she was
willing to learn, and made one or two suggestions which found the Duchess'
wholehearted approval.
That way, an hour passed very
pleasantly, and once the Duchess and Lord Asterby had left Kate and Barbara
returned to their previous activities -- embroidery and Emma.
Unbeknownst to her, Barbara was
the main topic of conversation at Burwell Castle that evening. The Duke, having
been informed that his wife had paid their daughter-in-law a visit in the
afternoon, wanted to know how she was doing.
"She was in an excellent mood,"
the Duchess replied. "I believe having her sister with her does her a great
deal of good. What do you think, Matthew?"
Lord Asterby thought for a
moment. "Miss Markham seems to be a very cheerful young lady," he said. "Just
the kind of company Kate needs. I had the impression she was not feeling too
happy of late."
"Of course not," his mother
said. "Being cooped up in that room of hers, and not being able to do anything
worth while. She bears it very well -- in her place I would have run mad."
"Let us hope all will go well,"
the Duke remarked.
"She is young and healthy. I see
no reason why it should not," the Duchess said resolutely. "And Miss Markham
will do her best to keep her happy. -- By the way, I have invited Miss Markham
to dine with us tomorrow. She will need to get out of Borrowdale House now and
then."
"She will not find our company
very amusing, I am afraid," the Duke remarked. "She needs to meet people her
own age."
"This is why I invited the
Larkins," the Duchess said calmly.
The Duke's eyes met his son's.
"The Larkins," he echoed. Mr. Larkin was the vicar of Burwell village, and,
according to his grace's opinion, a prosy old fool -- an opinion shared by Lord
Asterby. The vicar did have two daughters and a son, though.
"I am sure Miss Markham will be
much obliged to you," Lord Asterby said dryly.
The Duchess laughed. "I know you
do not like poor Mr. Larkin," she said, "but no one else would be so obliging
as to accept a last-minute invitation from us. And the Miss Larkins are
pleasant girls."
Lord Asterby thought they were a
pair of insufferable toadies, but kept his opinion to himself.
He was by no means sure whether Miss Markham would like them. She was not the
insincere sort -- in the eight-and-twenty years of his existence, Lord Asterby
had often had to deal with insincere people and had learned to read the signs --
nor did she seem to be the sort to be fooled by dishonesty.
"It will not hurt to introduce
them to her, I suppose," he said instead.
"No, indeed," the Duchess said.
"I may want you to show Miss Markham around when she does arrive," she continued.
"In case she is interested in seeing the Castle."
"Certainly, Mother," Lord
Asterby said.
"I bet you did not know what
trouble you would land in when you came to visit us here," his father laughed.
"Being obliged to entertain all sorts of females, as well as assisting me in
managing my estate."
"You are right, I did not," Lord
Asterby smiled. "But even if I had I would have come. I am not one to let the
family down in times of need."
"I know that," the Duke said
simply, giving his son a fond smile.
"I do not know if I have already
told you, my dear," the Duchess said to her husband, "but Miss Markham is about
to contract an advantageous marriage. She is going to marry Mr. Thomas Nash,
the MP."
"Nash?" The Duke frowned, trying
to recall where he had encountered the name before. "A Tory, isn't he?"
"My dear, you do not think I
know anything about the matter?" the Duchess protested. "You know I have never
taken an interest in politics!"
"I believe he is," Lord Asterby
answered his father's question. "One of the up-and-coming men, I have been
told."
He did not know Mr. Nash very
well, nor was he well acquainted with Miss Markham, but he had a feeling as if
their marriage was not a good idea. From what he knew of both, he was not
certain whether they should suit. On the other hand, it was none of his
business, and it was refreshing to meet, for once, a female who was already
spoken for -- such women were safe company. Having already secured a husband for
herself, Miss Markham would be unlikely to put a false meaning to every word he
said to her, or to throw out her lures to him. For once he would not have to
watch himself when talking to a woman, because she would hardly suspect him of
having intentions of any kind towards her.
"Well done of her," the Duke
remarked. "Not a connection to be ashamed of then."
"My dear!" the Duchess said
reprovingly, and looked pointedly at the footmen who were waiting on them. With
a rueful grin, the Duke apologised, and changed the topic, though he continued
to speak of Miss Markham.
"She seems a nice-enough girl,"
he remarked. "I remember meeting her at the wedding -- well-bred and cheerful,
like her sister, I thought at the time."
"True. I quite dote on her," the
Duchess said, "and I hope you will help me make her stay here an agreeable
one."
"We have our work cut out for
us, son," the Duke said, with a wink in his son's direction.
"Oh, I do not mind," Lord
Asterby replied. "I do not think the task will be beyond my talents."
The next day, the Duchess'
chaise arrived in Borrowdale House in the late afternoon to take Barbara to
Burwell Castle. She had taken particular care when getting dressed for the
occasion -- even though the Duchess had informed her that it was only an
informal meal, it was not every day that one got an invitation to dine at a
duke's table.
Burwell Castle was about four
miles from Borrowdale House, and Barbara was curious to see it. Her
brother-in-law had given her some prior information regarding his childhood
home, but still Barbara was surprised to see the Castle in all its splendour.
Nothing was left of the medieval
fortress but the name by which the ducal seat was known and -- according to Lord
Gregory -- the cellars. The original fortress had been almost completely
destroyed during the Civil War, and during the Restoration years a magnificent
house had been built in its place, a dwelling worthy of a duke.
"I am afraid my noble ancestor
had no notion of understatement," Lord Gregory had explained, and had added,
"But then, it was not to be expected, in his day and age. The Castle was meant
to be a showpiece rather than anything else, and as such, I think, it was quite
successful."
It was certainly an impressive
sight, Barbara thought as the carriage drove up towards the main entrance. The
large windows shone like gold in the evening sun, and the walls had a soft,
pinkish hue that made the building look warm and inviting.
The butler who admitted Barbara
into the house was haughtier than the Duke himself had ever been, Barbara
thought as she followed this awe-inspiring retainer to the Blue Drawing Room,
where the Duke and Duchess as well as their eldest son were awaiting their
guests.
"My dear Miss Markham," the
Duchess exclaimed as Barbara was ushered into the room and greeted her hosts
with a polite curtsey. "Did you have a pleasant drive?"
"Thank you, your grace, it was
most agreeable," Barbara replied, and her hostess, satisfied with the answer,
invited her to sit down next to her. "There are some more guests who have not
arrived yet," she told her. "Mr. and Mrs. Larkin and their son and daughters. Mr.
Larkin is the vicar in the village, a very worthy gentleman; though I confess I
chiefly invited the family because I felt you needed to meet some people nearer
to your own age than myself and his grace."
"Thank you, ma'am, this is very
kind of you," Barbara said. "But I do hope I did not cause you too much
trouble."
"Trouble? Nonsense," the Duchess
protested. "It is no trouble at all, rest assured. -- Would you like to see the
Castle?"
"I would love to, your grace,
but will I not be late for dinner if I do?"
"True. Matthew must show you
around tomorrow then."
The Duchess seemed to be quite
in earnest, Barbara thought, which amused her. "Must he?" she asked, smiling.
"I would consider myself
honoured," Lord Asterby said.
"But you must have plenty to do
even without giving me a guided tour of the Castle," Barbara objected. "Really,
I could not enjoy myself if I knew I was putting you to so much inconvenience.
Cannot the housekeeper perform the task, your grace? I am certain she does so
quite often."
"Naturally she could, but
Matthew is much better at it -- he knows all kinds of stories, and he is so good
at telling them too! That is -- do you dislike him so much?"
"I certainly did not want to
give you that impression, your grace," Barbara said, blushing to the roots of
her hair. "And this was not what I meant to say."
"I am afraid there is nothing
you can do now but accept me as your guide with as much grace as you can
muster, Miss Markham," Lord Asterby said with a smile. "Unless you want my
mother to make some even more outrageous statements. She is perfectly capable
of doing so, you must know."
Barbara did not doubt it, being
acquainted with the Duchess' ways, though only by report. Kate had often told
her about the shocking things her grace said without so much as batting an
eyelid.
"Very well, then, sir," she
said, giving in.
"I will come and pick you up
after luncheon," Lord Asterby said, "and take you back to my brother's house in
time for dinner. Unless you wish to ride? I know my brother has several horses
in his stables that are suitable for a lady."
"That would be fun," Barbara
admitted.
"In that case, I will still pick
you up, but we shall go on horseback," Lord Asterby suggested. "If the weather
is fine, that is."
"I am looking forward to it,"
Barbara said.
"We are agreed then," the
Duchess said, and announced that she would have a cold collation prepared for
when they had finished their tour of the Castle and the grounds.
The dinner itself was not
remarkable. Barbara found Mr. and Mrs. Larkin rather insipid, though
kind-hearted people, and their offspring did not make too favourable an
impression on her either. Of the young people, young Mr. Larkin was the most
pleasant; mainly because he was shy and did not speak much. His sisters had
none of his scruples, it appeared, and it was sickening to watch them hanging
on every word Lord Asterby said, and trying to ingratiate themselves with the
Duchess by agreeing with everything she said. Barbara wondered what the purpose
of their behaviour was. They would not expect to trap Lord Asterby in marriage,
she thought, for such a match would be highly unlikely -- a future Duke would
hardly marry a parson's daughter.
Nor were the Duke and Duchess
the kind of people who wished to be worshipped by their dependants; they were
far too rational to expect such a thing. But perhaps this was just the Larkins'
way of showing becoming gratitude for an invitation not everyone was likely to
receive. Barbara could not help suspecting, though, that the Miss Larkins would
regale their entire acquaintance with their dinner-party at Burwell Castle for
weeks to come, and was grateful not to count herself among that number.
The Larkins left early, but so
did Barbara -- she did not want Kate to wait up for her for too long, but knew
that her sister would be unable to go to sleep before knowing that Barbara had
got back safely.
Her suspicion regarding Kate had
been correct. As she arrived in Borrowdale House, Kate's lady's maid waited for
her in her room to help her get ready for the night, and to report to her
mistress whether her sister had had a pleasant evening.
This was followed by a full
account the next morning, when Barbara went to sit with her sister after
breakfast.
"The Larkins were there? Poor
you!" Kate exclaimed, and giggled at Barbara's description of the evening.
"I wonder how the girls could
have turned out the way they have done," she remarked, when Barbara had finished
her tale. "I suppose Mrs. Larkin told them they must always show proper
deference when in exalted company. Not that they move in exalted circles as a
rule, but the Duchess sometimes invites the family when she needs someone to
make up a card table, or a guest has cancelled an invitation at short notice."
"No wonder they feel flattered,"
Barbara said sarcastically.
Kate laughed. "It does not sound
very nice that way, I admit," she said. "But you will catch neither the Duke
nor the Duchess patronising anyone, like others in their position would do. The
Larkins are treated like favoured guests -- everyone is."
Since Barbara had witnessed
this, she could only agree. Everyone, the Duke and Duchess as well as Lord
Asterby, had been very polite to the Larkins; Lord Asterby had borne with the
girls' absurdities with admirable forbearance, and he had even taken pains to
draw young Mr. Larkin out of his shell. The Duke had had some scholarly
discourse with Mr. Larkin senior, giving the gentleman an opportunity to show
off his learning, and the Duchess had done her best to keep Mrs. Larkin amused.
No, none of the family members could be described as patronising.
After Barbara had regaled Kate
with a detailed account of the previous evening, they settled down for another
half-hour or so of Emma. In the meantime, Barbara had almost caught up
with her sister, and therefore understood much better what was going on in the
story. Another evening, she thought, and she would have caught up.
Since there was no guest staying
in Borrowdale House who objected to having what Lord Gregory referred to as an
"informal" luncheon, Barbara and her brother-in-law had their midday meal in
Kate's sitting-room. Barbara had already informed Lord Gregory that she
required a horse, and he had promised he would see to the matter.
He had been true to his word. During lunch he mentioned that
he had been down to the stables, and that Thompson, his head groom, would bring
Kate's mare up to the house as soon as Lord Asterby would arrive. So Barbara,
having finished her repast, went off to her room to change into a smart riding
habit, and was ready and waiting when Lord Asterby was ushered into the drawing
room.
Chapter 5
"I hope I have not kept you
waiting, Miss Markham," Lord Asterby greeted her.
"You have not, sir," Barbara
replied, smiling.
"A fine day for a ride, don't
you think so?" he asked.
"A very fine day," Barbara
agreed. It was a pleasant day, sunny but not too warm -- ideal for taking some
exercise out in the fresh air, she thought, and she was looking forward to
doing so.
"I do not think we will take the
direct way to the Castle," Lord Asterby said as they walked towards the
stables. "One gets the best prospect of the building from the west, so I
thought we could take a more circuitous route -- and start my guided tour before
actually getting there. What do you think, Miss Markham?"
"Whatever you say, my lord,"
Barbara laughed. "It sounds like an excellent idea to me!"
Thompson helped Barbara mount
her horse, and was to join them as well -- for propriety's sake, as Lord Gregory
had said with a grin. It was more likely, though, that he had asked Thompson to
ride with Barbara and his brother to make sure nothing happened to either of
them, and to be there in case of an accident. Lord Asterby's disability did not
prevent him from riding, but maybe it would make it very difficult for him to
assist Barbara if she took a fall.
They had an uneventful ride,
though. Thompson followed them at a respectful distance, and Lord Asterby
proceeded by pointing out various landmarks to Barbara, and telling her some
stories attached to them -- childhood memories, some of them, but also some more
relevant information.
When they reached the summit of
a hill, Lord Asterby reined in his horse, and Barbara followed suit. Opposite
them, on top of another hill, was the Castle -- Lord Asterby had not made an
empty promise when he had said that they would get a better view of the castle
by taking the long way.
"It's beautiful," Barbara said
quietly. "Though also very impressive -- very grand!"
"I think this was the intention
behind it," Lord Asterby laughed. "The second Duke, who had the place built,
spent several years in France in his youth -- and brought a French wife home
with him, too -- and I think what he was aiming for was his own private
Versailles. On a slightly smaller scale, of course, because he had neither
enough funds nor land for the real thing, but he did as well as he could, under
the circumstances. He was prodigiously proud of the outcome, too."
"He had reason, I think,"
Barbara said. Lord Asterby smiled.
"So he did," he said. "Even
though it is me saying so. -- As you can see from here, there are three wings.
There is the Dower Wing to our right, and the Nursery Wing to the left. Most of
the state rooms are in the central wing."
"There is no Dower House on the
estate then?"
"No; the Dower Wing is
completely separated from the rest of the house, however, so it may well count
as some kind of Dower House. It has not been lived in since my grandmother died
four years ago, and there is not really anything worth seeing in there. My grandmother
had it renovated to suit her taste when my grandfather died, and since she
preferred simple elegance to the flamboyant style of the Castle the Dower Wing
is quite unremarkable."
Barbara surmised that he would
not take her to the Dower Wing, then.
They rode on, and arrived at the
Castle half an hour later. Thompson helped Barbara dismount, and then took the
horses to the stables.
"Shall we?" Lord Asterby asked,
and Barbara nodded.
"Is there anything you would
particularly like to see, Miss Markham?"
"Your brother told me the
library was a notable feature of the house, and my sister mentioned a portrait
.... Lady Mary Andell."
Lord Asterby laughed. "The
infamous Lady Mary! I will take you to see the portrait if you wish -- but do
not say you have not been warned. It used to frighten us when we were children,
and it did not help that we had to pass it on our way to bed every evening. It
is just outside the nursery door."
"Strategically placed, I gather,"
Barbara laughed. "Did her grace think it would keep her sons from wandering
along the corridors at night?"
"Very likely. I must ask her
some time," Lord Asterby said, and offered Barbara his arm.
She had already seen the
entrance hall and Grand Staircase, the Blue Drawing Room and the Dining Room
when she had been to the Castle the previous evening, and so they soon moved on
to the other state rooms.
There was the State Dining Room,
which the family rarely used, except for such grand occasions as balls or
weddings, and a passage led from the Great Staircase to the library and the
Nursery Wing, the ground floor of which -- strangely enough - contained the
State Drawing Room and the ballroom. Barbara was greatly impressed by the
splendour of it all -- the second Duke had spared no expense to impress his
visitors, it seemed.
The library was just as stunning
as Barbara had expected it to be after hearing her brother-in-law's description
of it. Lord Asterby informed her that there were some twenty thousand books to
be found on the shelves, not counting the manuscripts, pamphlets or the
numerous prints and drawings which were also kept there.
"And still you have to go to
Bath occasionally to obtain books for my sister?" Barbara asked.
"Only sometimes," Lord Asterby
pointed out. "When she wants a book that I know I will not find in here."
"That sounds hardly believable.
Looking at those shelves one gets the impression that there cannot be a single
book in this world that is not to be found in here."
"Oh, there are many," Lord
Asterby laughed. "This is an ongoing collection -- if there is one thing that my
family take particular pride in, it is our library."
"I can understand why," Barbara
said, awestruck.
"Shall we go on to the Queen's
Bedchamber?" Lord Asterby suggested. Reluctantly, Barbara took her leave of the
library, and followed Lord Asterby upstairs.
On their way up, Lord Asterby
drew Barbara's attention to the mural paintings in the Grand Staircase and made
her look more closely at them -- they were mythological scenes, mainly. The
second Duke and Duchess of Burwell were included into the scenes, the Duchess
posing as Diana, Goddess of the Hunt, complete with a bow and quiver full of
arrows and a couple of greyhounds poised next to her (she had been addicted to
the sport, her descendant explained), and the Duke in full armour as Mars, the
God of War and Vengeance (he had been a pretty successful soldier, apparently).
But though both were impersonating ancient deities, they were wearing the
attire that had been fashionable in their day -- apart from His Grace's armour,
that was.
"They appear to have been a
well-matched couple," Barbara remarked. "Very bloodthirsty -the Goddess of the
Hunt and the Lord of War. Almost frightening, coming to think of it."
"Quite fitting, too -- the Duke
is said to have had an irascible temper," Lord Asterby said. "Like his sister."
"Lady Mary Andell?"
"The very same. -- By the by,
Miss Markham, there is an anecdote connected with these murals. Would you like
to hear it?"
"Oh, certainly."
"Very well. Have a closer look
at that creature over there -- we think it must be a satyr or something of the
kind. Does it look familiar?"
"Why yes, it does ... it seems as
if the painter used the Duke's features over again. Why was that?"
"Apparently there was some disagreement
regarding the artist's payment," Lord Asterby said. "And since the Duke behaved
in an ungenerous manner, the painter took his own private revenge by replacing
the satyr's original face with the Duke's."
Barbara chuckled. "What a
devilish way of seeking revenge," she said. "How did the Duke react on that
insult?"
"He thought it was a good joke,"
Lord Asterby said with a grin. "Which is why the picture was permitted to
remain the way it was."
"He did have a sense of humour
then," Barbara remarked.
"Oh yes, he certainly did. He
also seemed to think -- like myself -- that it would make for a good story to
entertain one's visitors with."
They turned left into a passage
when they reached the first floor, and Lord Asterby pointed out a portrait of
his grandparents, painted by Angelica Kauffmann, and a family portrait of his
parents and their offspring by Hoppner, taken some fifteen years or so
previously. Barbara was impressed -- the ducal family seemed to have a way of
finding talented artists, and of bringing out the best in them. Both pictures,
Lord Asterby remarked, were thought to be some of the respective artists'
finest works.
Another example was found in the
Queen's Bedchamber -- portraits of the first Duke and Duchess by Sir Peter Lely.
"Queen Anne spent a night or two
in this room, though that was before she was crowned," Lord Asterby told
Barbara. "This is why it is called the Queen's Bedchamber. No one sleeps in
here any more though -- we usually keep the room empty, unless the house is
really full of guests, in which case we tend to allot it to our least favourite
visitors." He grinned.
"Why? It looks like a pleasant
enough room to me; it is light and airy, and the view from here is charming,"
Barbara protested.
"During the day it is pleasant
enough in here, I grant you," Lord Asterby said gravely, but with a humorous
glint in his eyes.
Barbara laughed. "I can see a
ghost story coming on," she said. "What is it? Do your worst, my lord!"
"It is nothing dramatic, Miss
Markham. Merely a ... a presence of some sort. People who slept in here heard
tapping noises at the windows, and they noticed the smell of perfume. Roses,
they said."
"Oh. Lady Mary at work?"
"I cannot believe my esteemed
great-great-aunt would settle for anything so tame," Lord Asterby laughed. "It
would not suit her character. Actually, we do not think there is anything wrong
with this room, but stories have travelled around and so we keep it empty,
unless we have no choice."
"This sounds like a pragmatic
approach to the matter."
"My mother is nothing if not
pragmatic, Miss Markham. But you may have noticed that already."
He continued to draw Barbara's
attention to some notable features of the room -- the ornate stuccoed ceiling,
the marble fireplace, the silk wallpaper (hand-painted, and imported from
France at great expense) and an exquisite Aubusson carpet.
"This is about it," Lord Asterby
finished. "We do not take visitors to the rooms we currently inhabit, naturally
-- except the drawing-rooms downstairs, that is. The other rooms on this floor
are the family bedrooms, and guest bedrooms. The nursery is upstairs, on the
second floor. So, if you dare to follow me, I will take you there to make Lady
Mary's acquaintance."
"I am all agog to meet her,"
Barbara laughed, and Lord Asterby took her up some minor stairway, explaining
that it was the shortest way to the nursery from where they were.
"Here we are then," he finally
announced. "Remember you have been warned."
Barbara was slightly
disappointed to see Lady Mary Andell's portrait. She had expected something
more ghastly, something more frightening, after all both Lord Gregory and Lord
Asterby had admitted that, as children, they had been afraid of the painting.
Yet there was nothing unusual about it, as far as Barbara could see.
It depicted a lady in her
forties or fifties -- it was hard to tell -- wearing a dark gown in the fashion
of her day, which must have been about a hundred years before. In her youth,
Lady Mary must have been a fine looking young woman, Barbara thought. It was
strange; when Kate had mentioned the portrait she had supposed that Lady Mary
must have suffered from some kind of disfigurement, but this was not the case.
The only thing likely to terrify one, Barbara surmised, was the expression in
Lady Mary's eyes. It was a hard, cruel one, and there was a hint of bitterness
about her mouth.
"What frightened you so much
about this picture?" she asked Lord Asterby, after she had subjected the
portrait to some close scrutiny.
"Walk up and down the corridor,
Miss Markham, and keep an eye on the portrait," Lord Asterby replied.
Barbara did as he had suggested,
and, after having taken a couple of steps, stopped. "Oh, I see! It is one of those
pictures!"
"Quite so. Her eyes have an uncanny
way of following one around. You only need to add our nurse's threats that Lady
Mary sees everything, and you can imagine what we felt like, having to
walk past this picture in the dark every evening. Somehow we always felt some
kind of punishment for our misdeeds would come from that direction. But if Lady
Mary did indeed see everything we did, at least she did not tell on us -- as my
brother David pointed out to Nurse Crewe one day."
This made Barbara laugh,
although she had, for a few moments, pitied Lord Asterby and his brothers for
having been subjected to that kind of treatment. She did not hold with such
nonsense as telling children gruesome stories to make them behave, but then
having no children herself she probably knew nothing of the matter. Most likely
she would, one day, be glad for any means that would make her offspring behave
in a way that did not make her blush for them.
"Apart from her eyes following
one around," she remarked, "I cannot find anything alarming about the picture,
yet my sister said something about Lady Mary being a grim example -- she was
referring to the family habit of having sons rather than daughters. That's why
I expected something quite different when we went to see the picture -- some
poor, deformed creature or something of the kind..." She broke off and blushed,
catching sight of Lord Asterby's walking stick and remembering that he was
suffering from a disability, even though it was not instantly noticeable.
He did not seem to be overly
upset by her remark, however, and merely said, "No, she was not deformed. In
fact, I have been told -- by my grandmother, who knew people who had met her --
that she was a very handsome woman. If Kate referred to her as a grim example,
it may be because of the story that is attached to her. Lady Mary brought
disgrace upon the family."
"I see," Barbara said. That
would explain the expression of bitterness in Lady Mary's features, she
supposed.
"Shall we go back downstairs?"
Lord Asterby suggested. "By this time, my mother should be anxiously awaiting
us in the Blue Drawing Room -- she mentioned tea and cake when I set out to
Borrowdale House to pick you up. And on our way down I can tell you the story
about Lady Mary's disgrace, if you care to hear it."
Barbara cared very much to hear
it, and said so. As they turned their steps to the Grand Staircase again, Lord
Asterby recounted his ancestress' tale.
©2007, 2008 Copyright held by
the author.