Dance with the Fae

Chapter 4

Chapter Four

A delaide was late to breakfast. Kit was on his second helping of scrambled eggs before she even appeared in the North Wing at the other end of the Long Hall, where the dining room was located.

She picked listlessly at a plate of kedgeree, which she usually devoured, but Kit thought it best not to mention that after their argument the night before. He shouldn’t have minded too much because they’d always argued, growing up in the same way siblings and close family did. It was probably unrealistic to expect to get through a lifetime of marriage without having quarrels, so he tried his best to put it behind him.

‘Tea or coffee?’ he asked, wandering across to the sideboard where the breakfast dishes had been laid out. In a house with multiple generations, breakfast was a relaxed meal.

‘Tea for me,’ Alfred said.

‘Nothing for me,’ Charlotte replied. ‘I’m trying a new diet, which involves foregoing all stimulants.’

‘Addie?’ he asked.

Adelaide yawned, open-mouthed. Her tongue curled like a cat’s. ‘I’m sorry. I was a hundred miles away. I think, coffee, please, and lots of creamy milk.’

He took the cup and saucer and placed it down before her.

‘What happened to “I can stay up all night nursing and never miss my alarm”, sleepyhead?’ he asked, despite his intentions not to provoke her.

She pouted but then gave him a smile.

‘I don’t know. Maybe I had forgotten how strong champagne can be. It’s been such a long time since we’ve had any after all.’

‘Lucky you. Mother says I’m still too young for more than a glass,’ Alfred grumbled.

‘I hope you’re not sickening for something,’ Charlotte said. ‘We were going to visit Lady Burroughs today.’

Adelaide swallowed her toast. ‘Oh yes, of course. The bitch.’

Alfred snorted. His sister gave him an impatient look.

‘Fred, you know we’re talking about dogs. Don’t be infantile.’

‘What a dreadful lot I have in life. Too young for champagne, but too old to make silly jokes,’ Alfred said theatrically.

Charlotte stuck her tongue out at him, proving that at twenty-four she was not too old for a bit of sibling antagonization.

‘Do you think Lady Burroughs will let you stud Maxie?’ Kit asked hastily in order to avoid another round of bickering.

Charlotte took a long drink of coffee before answering. ‘I think so. He’s got a good pedigree and Lady B says that she is keen to develop the lineage a little.’

The wire fox terrier, Maxie (or Maximum Myles Travelled, to give him his full name) was Charlotte’s pride and joy. She intended to start seriously breeding the dogs now the war was over.

‘Well, I have some chemistry and arithmetic to wade through,’ Alfred said gloomily. ‘If I want any hope of getting into Oxford, I really need to mug up on it.’

Both subjects had come easily to Kit. He would have liked to have read them at university, possibly even become a scholar, but his father had made it very clear that given his future role as owner and manager of the estate, something more useful was appropriate. Alfred’s interest in the estate and towards animal husbandry made him a far better choice for successor, but of course Charles was a traditionalist.

‘Cheer up,’ he said. ‘As soon as the estate is mine, I’ll make you manager and abdicate to live on a yacht off the coast of Devon.’

He was lying of course – to himself at least. There would be no abdication for Kit.

‘I need to look over finances with Father when the fete is done with,’ he said gloomily. ‘Now I am back, I need to try and get a sense of what shape the estate is in after the war. We need to hire a new gamekeeper, too.’

‘Not before time,’ Alfred said through a mouthful of crumpet. ‘I swear, last night I heard the sound of dogs howling in the park.’

‘I don’t think you did. I would’ve heard it, too. Probably too much champagne. Oh no, you didn’t get very much, being so young,’ Charlotte crowed.

Kit let them bicker. It was an extra layer of worry, however. Meadwell Hall was famed for the quality of its venison, but the animals came at a hefty price. Even the loss of one fawn would have an effect on the estate’s income.

‘I dreamed of dogs last night.’ Adelaide put down her cup and looked towards the windows. Her blue eyes were troubled, causing Kit’s heart to catch.

‘There, see,’ Alfred said triumphantly. ‘There must have been something out there, and their howling worked its way into Addie’s subconscious mind. It does that, you know.’

She blinked and her eyes lost their glazed look.

‘I tell you what, I was planning to test out the new gelding,’ Kit said. ‘I’ve not had the chance to get to know him, but he comes from a good stud and I think he might turn out to be good at hacking. Alfred, get your work finished, then we’ll have an early lunch and ride over to invite ourselves for afternoon tea. Sophie might be there and I haven’t said hello properly.’

‘Oh Sophie!’ Charlotte cooed, giving him a wink. ‘Better watch yourself Adelaide.’

Kit blushed. The honourable Sophie Burroughs had been an early crush of his. Adelaide frowned but after the way she’d carried on with Mr Wilde the night before he didn’t really care.

Alfred brightened and the plan was agreed. It was immediately thrown into disarray when there was a soft knock at the door and Enid walked in.

‘Young Kit, Merelda would like you to come visit her this morning,’ Enid said. Kit didn’t mind the rather outdated title. Enid had lived with Merelda since long before Kit had been born. She was a Scotswoman with copper-coloured hair that was turning grey now that she was in her late fifties but she was still extremely pretty in an ethereal sort of way.

‘Of course. Is anything wrong?’ he asked. He had never checked whether Mr Wilde had seen Merelda home safely after her choking fit.

Enid pursed her lips. ‘I’m not sure. Best come as soon as possible. She’s got one of her moods on her. Been awake since five.’

She helped herself to a piece of toast and left.

Once he’d finished breakfast, Kit strolled across the grounds to Merelda’s residence. The Tersingham women were generally beauties with more intelligence than most husbands needed, and Merelda staying a spinster was surprisingly rare. She and Enid lived in a converted dovecote that suited their eccentric nature well. Merelda was tying up the trailing roses around the door when Kit approached. On seeing him, she flung down her ball of twine and put her hands on her hips.

‘What were you thinking?’ she demanded.

‘About what?’

‘Agreeing to allow that … that man to steal Adelaide away from you.’

‘Do you mean Mr Wilde? It hardly matters what I said,’ Kit said. ‘She can choose whether or not to dance with him if she meets him again.’

‘You think that was just about a dance, do you?’

Merelda’s cane bashed onto the flagstones like a thunderclap. Kit often wondered why she didn’t glue some rubber or suede to the tip to deaden the noise, but presumably she enjoyed the effect it made.

‘You don’t make promises like that to them.’

‘To whom?’ He wasn’t aware that Mr Wilde fell into a particular category of person.

‘To that sort! From away !’

Kit’s mouth fell open. There was a great deal of hostility in the country towards the refugees who had arrived since the start of the Great War, and who were still arriving, even though it had ended. Where else could they turn but to the countries that had helped to free them, and in the process left their homes as trenches and rubble? Hearing the words coming from Merelda was truly shocking, however. She was good-natured, and from what Kit had gathered, she had helped organise collections of clothing for the displaced women and children.

‘Aunt Merelda, I don’t think I’ve ever heard you sound so unwelcoming. Mr Wilde was a little odd, and perhaps his manners aren’t exactly British, but what harm can he do?’

‘Ha! You have no idea. Oh yes, he seems harmless and of course he’s charming, but once you’re tangled up, it becomes hard to escape!’ She punctuated her exclamation with an extra hard strike of her cane. A bird of some sort exploded from the nearby apple tree, flying overhead in a swoosh of alarm.

‘If you didn’t think I should have agreed then why did you not say anything at the time?’ Kit retorted.

She gave him a baleful look.

‘I tried, didn’t I, and you saw what happened to me: a coughing fit and a toad on my tongue. Let me tell you about Mr Wilde and his sort.’

She took a breath but began to cough, wheezing as she had done the night before. A frog in her throat, as the mysterious Mr Wilde had said. Kit dashed forward to support her in case she fell. She waved the hand that wasn’t holding her cane and shook her head in an irritable manner.

‘I don’t need your help to stand. If you want to make things right, keep him away from Adelaide.’

‘Let me get you a drink,’ Kit offered, taking a step back. ‘Or shall I call Enid? She could bring you some tea.’

Enid’s face appeared at the window so promptly that Kit wondered if she had been listening. She waved the teapot.

‘Bring her into the kitchen, Young Kit.’

Ignoring her previous instruction, Kit took Merelda by the arm and led her into the kitchen-cum-dining room that made up half the ground floor. Enid took hold of her hand, stroking it gently.

‘Let the breath out, Merry. One more and it’s all done and dusted. Young Kit, you mustn’t try to get her to talk of things she shouldn’t.’

Some of the colour returned to Merelda’s cheeks but still Enid held her hand until she stood fully upright and was breathing regularly.

‘He’s a good lad,’ Merelda said, as Kit helped her sit in the winged Chesterfield by the fireplace. ‘He’s just been too educated.’

Enid bustled about the Welsh dresser in the furthest corner, collecting the kettle from the chain above the open fire and pouring water into the teapot.

‘There are things in motion,’ Merelda said.

Kit smiled. She was an old woman and prone to confusion.

‘Everything is going to be fine,’ he said. ‘Don’t worry about me and Adelaide. I know it’s what you might call a marriage of convenience, but it is convenient for both of us, and we are genuinely fond of each other.’

His jaw tightened. After the quarrel he hoped that was still true.

‘You’re a good boy. Have you a good heart?’ Merelda patted his cheek. It took him a moment to realise she’d touched his scarred cheek. Another to realise that he hadn’t flinched.

‘I hope so.’ He dropped his eyes.

‘If you have a good heart then all will be well,’ Enid said, passing him his tea. No dainty porcelain cups for these two, just solid earthenware mugs with a decent amount to drink. Enid mixed her own leaves from varieties she ordered from Jacksons, so the blend was never the same twice. He took a swig then cradled his mug.

‘What do you think is going to happen, Merelda? The war is over and we so thoroughly trounced the Hun that it’ll be another century before they try anything else.’

‘Wars don’t just end. Wars beget wars,’ Merelda said seriously.

‘What do you mean? And what has that got to do with me having a good heart, or my engagement to Adelaide?’

Merelda took a deep breath. Enid clicked her fingers briskly.

‘Don’t you go asking questions anymore, you’ll start her off coughing again,’ she warned him.

Merelda was old, but she seemed to be really taking it to heart that Silas Wilde had a bit of a hankering for Adelaide. He thought back to the night before when he had happened upon them in the maze. He rather suspected that they knew each other already.

‘At least tell me why Mr Wilde shouldn’t dance with Adelaide? He’s probably lonely, being all alone in a strange country.’

‘You think he’s alone, do you? Haven’t you seen the other one? She’ll have some undertaking, I’m sure. Sly little piece hiding in the shadows. Big, sad eyes and no bust to speak of.’

‘Do you mean the girl who was wearing green?’ Kit asked. She’d had an attractive, boyish figure and yes, her eyes had been disarmingly soulful. ‘If she’s Mr Wilde’s wife or something then it hardly matters if he dances with Adelaide, does it? I don’t believe it will do any harm.’

‘And that shows what little you understand about the ways of folk like them.’ Merelda snapped. She coughed again and took a deep swig of tea.

Kit swallowed down his surprise. Merelda hardly lived a conventional life, so had no place being so scathing about the affairs and liberties of others.

‘She seemed perfectly pleasant, if a little odd. She asked if I wanted a walnut.’

‘Did you accept?’ Merelda faced him, and Kit was shocked to see how pale she had become.

‘Of course not. I was going back to the house,’ he said.

‘Well, Kit, you can’t say I didn’t warn you, and don’t come running to me when you discover your lady love has vanished in the morning mist.’

Kit sighed. ‘Merelda, you’ve known Adelaide as long as I have. She’s not the type of woman to run off with a stranger. If she wanted to break her engagement – which of course she’s perfectly entitled to do – then she would have the honesty and courage to speak to me about it.’

‘Assuming she has the means to speak,’ Merelda muttered cryptically.

Kit stared at her. Was she losing her mind more than she already had? He’d have to speak to his parents and see what they thought.

‘Best go now and do whatever else you need to be getting on with,’ Enid told him.

Kit took the hint. ‘Yes, I’d better go. I’m sorry if I’ve upset you in any way.’

‘What’s done is done, and all that’s done is done,’ Enid tutted. ‘Watch your heart and watch your lady. That’s all I can say.’

The two women left the room, which was slightly odd as it was their house, leaving Kit to see himself out. He put the tea things back on the dresser, tidied up a little, and hung the kettle on the chain. As he passed the sitting room, he overheard Merelda speaking.

‘He has no idea and I can do nothing. It’s hopeless. I am helpless.’

He paused. He wouldn’t have done, except the words were so cryptic and must have referred to him.

‘No, you’re not, Merry, love. You’ve set him on the path. That’s all you can do. Besides, nothing might come of it.’ Enid said, as sensible and reassuring as ever.

‘He won’t stop. You know that as well as I do.’

‘Well, then, we’ll just have to hope that young Kit can keep his wits when he needs to. Now sit back and let me rub your head.’

‘You’re too good to me, sweetness.’

Kit left. Listening in while he was the subject of discussion was one thing, but this was a private moment between the two women, and it was not his place to intrude. He sometimes wondered if anyone else suspected they were lovers. They bickered and talked like any married couple, but to many it was inconceivable that women could love each other in that way. Of course, it was considered an abomination that men could love each other in that way, too, but Kit knew otherwise.

“Got another spare Lucifer? Do you fancy a mug of tea?”

Kit’s eyes grew moist, remembering Andrew and the tentative approach he’d made. Both sizing each other up, trying to gauge the safety of an admission. Knowing the penalty. Knowing the risk. Balancing them with temptation.

He left the dovecote, misery swelling inside him but perturbed by what he had overheard. Whatever path had been set in motion, he had no idea, because Merelda’s words had been far too cryptic.

* * *

Kit didn’t get to speak to Adelaide in private, what with one thing and another, until they were driving back from Castle Francombe, the home of Lady Burroughs. Charlotte offered to ride back with Alfred, having already packed her boots, hacking jacket and jodhpurs in the car in anticipation.

‘Last night––’ Kit started to say as he eased the Vauxhall Prince Henry up the hill, after leaving the long driveway.

‘You don’t need to apologise,’ Adelaide interrupted with a sweet smile.

Kit suppressed an eye-roll. Naturally she had assumed he was going to apologise.

‘It was a very odd evening, wasn’t it? I didn’t feel quite myself you know,’ he said.

‘Neither did I! I didn’t mean to make you jealous.’

‘I wasn’t jealous. What would I be jealous of?’ Kit asked, again taken aback at her misinterpretation. It had been the way she had thrown her wealth in his face that had mattered.

‘Of me dancing with that Mr Wilde, of course.’ Adelaide twisted in her seat and placed her hand on his upper arm. ‘I know it must be hard for you seeing me in the arms of others. And, of course, you mustn’t think that I want to go to London to have affairs.’

‘That has never occurred to me.’ Kit pulled over into the entrance to a field and switched the engine off. ‘Addie,’ he said. ‘I got touchy last night about the money and you flinging it in my face that it’s all yours.’

‘I hardly flung it in your face,’ she said, frowning.

‘I don’t want you to think I intend to plan what you do with your money.’

He looked down at his hands. He genuinely hadn’t cared about her dancing, but after Merelda’s grilling and her talk of affairs he was beginning to wonder if he was an idiot.

‘Look, Addie, I know it’s always been planned for us but we’re old enough to make our own minds up,’ Kit continued. ‘If there’s somebody else you’d rather marry, or if you’d rather just not marry me then I really don’t mind. I’ll release you from the engagement.’

Adelaide’s eyes widened. She pouted then smiled. ‘Well, that’s very sweet but I don’t want you to do that. It would positively kill Mother if we didn’t marry.’

Adelaide’s fingers twitched to her hair. Kit wondered if she was aware of the habit. All the Price family had dark hair – ranging from deep chestnut to a muddy brown. The only one who was different was Adelaide whose hair was so fair it was almost white. That might have passed as a slight aberration, but her skin was porcelain, too, like an old-fashioned doll’s. Kit had often wondered why Sarah and Richard (who were both dark) had adopted a child whose colouring was so different. It seemed unfair to Kit, because it would only ever draw attention to the fact that she was not of their blood. Then again, if the child needed a family, perhaps that was more important than finding a family where it would blend in.

‘Do you ever wonder about your other parents?’ he asked.

She pressed her lips together and shook her head before looking at him with a flash of anger on her face. ‘No. I was given up. I don’t care to think why, or by whom. I don’t want to appear ungrateful when Mother and Father have been so good to me. Marrying you is my way of paying the family back for adopting me.’

‘That’s no reason to marry me if you don’t want to,’ Kit said. ‘It isn’t an obligation you agreed to.’

She patted his hand. ‘I don’t see you as an obligation.’

If she was lying, she did it well.

‘What do you think they would have done if we’d hated each other,’ Kit mused. ‘Or if you’d been a boy.’

‘They’d have married me to Charlotte and you would have been my best chum,’ Adelaide said breezily. ‘I don’t think you and I could ever have hated each other, even though you were a little rag at times and put salt in my porridge too often.’

‘Well, you used to try to make me wear your hair ribbons,’ Kit retorted.

They laughed.

‘We’ll make it work, I promise you,’ Kit said. ‘I’ll never make you unhappy or make you do anything you don’t want to.’

‘Of course you won’t. You’re too sweet for your own good.’ Adelaide leaned against him. ‘We’ll be good for each other. Come on, let’s get back to the house. I want to pick out a dress to wear to the fete tomorrow. It’ll be my first event as almost lady-of-the-manor and I want to look breathtaking.’

‘You always do,’ Kit said gallantly.

He started up the motor and drove home, pondering that at least with Adelaide at his side few people would care what he looked like.