Dance with the Fae

Chapter 5

Chapter Five

M ay Day had been the day of the village fete for over a century. The grounds of Meadwell Hall were separated from the village of Dalbymoorside by a river, over which there was an ancient, stone footbridge. It had been a tradition since the mid-1800s for the gardens to be opened up by the owners. When Kit had been young, his mother had put forward the idea of opening the Long Hall up to visitors for the cost of tuppence, but this had been roundly rejected by Charles and his parents who felt that treating it as an exhibit was undignified for the old place.

This year the rain looked as if it was going to be so bad that Reverend Keeth had hinted that maybe some of the traditional games could be played inside the hall. Though they obviously had reservations, Christopher and Sybil compromised on allowing it to be used to serve refreshments. Merelda was vocal about her misgivings as she and Kit hung garlands about the windows on the morning of the fete.

‘Inviting them to the engagement party was a bad start, but now we’re giving them the freedom of the building,’ she grumbled. She was wearing a long gown as always, but this one was slightly floaty and made her look like the subject of a painting by Waterhouse. She had braided rosebuds into her hair, along with some pale green leaves that Kit identified as sage when he got close enough to smell them.

‘The doors to the rest of the house will be watched to ensure nobody goes where they shouldn’t,’ he reassured her, indicating the presence of Millicent laying out crockery on a table by the door to the tower. ‘And no one visiting is going to try to steal the family silver.’

There were a few valuable pieces of small plate, but they were locked securely in a room off the butler’s pantry with an iron grille on the window and iron bands fixed to the inside of the door. The full display came out rarely, and the next time wouldn’t be until Kit and Adelaide’s wedding breakfast. He smiled at Merelda, thinking he’d been rather harsh and gestured to the walls.

‘If anyone wants to take some of these old antlers, they’re more than welcome. They always slightly scared me.’

The deer in the park often shed them and the branches were hung along with stuffed heads of animals from days long past. Kit had already decided that as soon as the house became his, he would remove all of them.

The fete began at midday, with a parade of children from the local school escorting the May Queen and her attendants, their clothes decorated in colourful ribbons and flowers, accompanied by the remaining members of the brass band. The musicians were sadly depleted, and the sight of the reduced numbers gave spectators a moment’s pause for solemnity. Kit’s eyes misted. His childhood friend, Clarence, who’d died in action three days after arriving in Mons, had played the cornet. There was a glaring space where he should have been.

Silas Wilde was strolling through the crowd. Adelaide spotted him first, squeezing Kit’s arm then waving to Mr Wilde who wheeled about to join them. At his side was the woman Kit had spoken to.

Her hair was cut into a short, layered style that framed her face, emphasising her delicate features. Where the sunlight caught it in places, it became copper, in others corn, occasionally chestnut. It was as if the locks couldn’t settle on which colour and were battling for ascendency. It was a remarkably modern-looking cut, given her slightly old-fashioned yellow summer dress.

‘Miss Wyndham and Mr Arton-Price, how delightful to see you both joining in the ceremony. May I introduce my companion to you. Miss Alexandra Dove.’

‘What a pretty name,’ Adelaide said, taking Miss Dove’s hand.

‘Thank you.’ Miss Dove flashed a glance at Mr Wilde.

Kit wondered if Miss Dove was going to admit to their encounter in the garden. He wouldn’t claim prior knowledge unless she did, thinking it a lady’s prerogative.

‘How nice to meet you again,’ Miss Dove said, when she shook his hand.

‘You’ve met?’ Adelaide asked sharply.

‘Yes, we were walking in the garden and came across each other the night of the party,’ Miss Dove answered. If she noticed Adelaide’s response, she ignored it. She spoke very quickly in her low, husky voice.

‘When you say companion?’ he asked, leaving the question tailing off.

‘You might call her my ward,’ Mr Wilde said.

Miss Dove looked to be around Adelaide’s age, whereas Mr Wilde didn’t appear to be much over thirty. It was an unusual situation for a guardian to be so close in age, but who knew how the terms could be dictated. At least, Kit assumed, that meant they weren’t also lovers.

‘Shall we walk together to see the crowning of the Queen?’ Mr Wilde suggested. ‘We know very few people in this area.’

Kit looked at Adelaide and raised his eyebrow. She nodded eagerly. Possibly too eagerly in his opinion.

The procession ended at the village green where the maypole had been erected and the queen was crowned with a circlet of rose and ivy by two youths dressed in green wearing leafy crowns.

‘It’s all rather pagan, isn’t it,’ Miss Dove said.

‘Is it?’ Adelaide asked.

‘Pagan? Rather,’ Kit said. ‘Worshipping old fertility symbols and suchlike while dressed as a Green Man. And as for that thing…’ He gestured to the maypole.

‘Do you know about the old ways?’ Mr Wilde looked at him keenly.

‘I used to devour the stories of King Arthur and Merlin when I was a child, and of course at school we read Caesar’s accounts of Britain and druids.’

‘Well, that’s all fascinating,’ Adelaide said in a voice that strongly suggested otherwise. ‘It’s delightfully provincial.’

‘Just because you never got to be the May Queen,’ Kit said with a laugh, hoping to lighten the mood. She just stared at him.

Mr Wilde tilted his head to one side. ‘And would you be a queen if you could, Miss Wyndham?’

‘Of course. Who wouldn’t,’ she replied.

‘Then let me be your courtier. Shall we walk?’

He held out his arm to her but looked at Kit. ‘Mr Arton-Price, do I have your permission to steal away Miss Wyndham?’

Kit met Adelaide’s eyes. She looked at him with a challenge. ‘Oh, I rather think it’s up to Miss Wyndham to give her own permission for that.’

Mr Wilde’s eyes glinted, then he laughed. ‘How very modern of you both. Well, then, Miss Wyndham, will you let me spirit you away?’

‘Gladly,’ Adelaide said sweetly, taking his arm. ‘Let’s leave the children to their dressing up and paganism. Kit, I’ll see you for cake later. Have fun.’

They walked off, leaving Kit standing with Miss Dove.

‘And would you be a knight, swearing fealty to your king and your devotion to a fair maiden?’ she asked, looking up at him through thick lashes. ‘Does the romance of that appeal to you?’

‘I swore my loyalty to the King and fought for my country. It was not remotely romantic. I’m in no hurry to do it again,’ Kit replied quietly.

‘A wise man would answer such,’ she said. Her brown eyes shone with intelligence and he had the distinct impression she was mocking him. ‘Though would a wise man let his fiancée go with Mr Wilde?’

‘Why not? She’s a modern woman. I shall be as devoted a subject as my wife requires me to be but I’m not going to stand in her way.’

‘Then how much do you really love her?’ Miss Dove’s smile was definitely mocking now.

‘Why would letting her walk with another man suggest I don’t love her? Love isn’t about possessing.’

She looked at him as if he were stupid. Her eyes lingered on his face. The last time they had met it had been dark but now his cheek was clear to see. He gestured to it.

‘Of course, we’ve been unofficially engaged for years but that was before I came back looking like this.’

Usually, any reference directly to his disfigurement meant the topic was swiftly changed, but Miss Dove just carried on looking at his face. Kit tried to suppress the shiver that ran down his neck, feeling rather like a prize bull at market. Finally, she dragged her gaze from the remains of his face and looked into his eyes.

‘I’ve seen worse. You came back alive. That’s more than many. And you’re still half-handsome, which is more than some get to start out with.’

Her smile softened, and Kit was about to return it when she jabbed her forefinger at him. ‘You just need to stop being so self-pitying. That’s what diminishes a man’s charm.’

‘I––’ He scowled. ‘I’m not self-pitying.’

She lifted her chin belligerently. ‘Yes, you are. You were skulking around in the dark by yourself at the party and feeling sorry for your lot in life. You even confided in a complete stranger that you think it’s too much responsibility.’

Kit stared at her. Adelaide had a forthright nature, but Miss Dove was something else entirely. Well, if she could dispense with politeness, so could he.

‘Miss Dove, I’m afraid I’m going to be awfully rude now. I haven’t been back in the area very long and I’m afraid I have no idea where you and Mr Wilde have come from or how long you’ve been living here.’

‘I don’t think you’re afraid, at all,’ she said candidly. ‘Nor should you be. It’s astonishing how susceptible people can be when they don’t want to appear impolite. A person can invite all sorts of trouble into their lives.’

‘I see impoliteness doesn’t worry you. Speaking of which, who invited you to the party?’ Kit asked.

She glanced over her shoulder in the direction of the house. Adelaide and Mr Wilde were quite a long way ahead. For all her assertions that she had no interest in Mr Wilde, Kit could see Adelaide was holding onto his arm and laughing at whatever he was saying.

‘Shall we follow them? I would not want to be too far from Mr Wilde,’ she said.

Kit held out an arm and she linked hers through it.

‘Why don’t we go look at some of the stalls and see if we can be polite to each other for the next ten minutes.’

They strolled towards the river. Her arms were bare from wrist to elbow, and she was wearing a bangle of some sort of pale pink gemstone. It had a pearlescent sheen to it where it caught the sunlight, and the surface was carved into intertwining swirls that made Kit think of old Celtic jewellery he had once seen in a museum. It was tight-fitting and looked to have been carved from one single piece of rock. There appeared to be no way of slipping it over her hand and he found that fascinating. Presumably, some of the swirls covered a hidden catch. It reminded him a little of the maze with the concealed exit.

Miss Dove must have noticed his interest because she twisted her hand and withdrew it from his arm.

‘That’s a very interesting piece. I’m sorry if I was being indiscreet by staring,’ Kit said. ‘Is it a family heirloom.’

‘No. I’m the first one to wear it,’ she said, slightly brusquely.

‘It’s a clever design. I can’t see at all how you take it off.’

‘You can’t.’

She put her arms behind her back and walked a little faster.

They reached the footbridge. Miss Dove stopped halfway across and leaned against the low parapet. She craned her head round to look down at the water that rushed beneath, scurrying around rocks. Her silhouette shimmered thanks to a combination of the sun behind her and Kit’s troublesome eye. He had to blink and force himself to concentrate.

‘I never answered your question,’ she said. ‘Mr Wilde and I have come here because our land has been ravaged by the Great War.’

Her expression grew heavy. It was a familiar tale. Desperate and traumatised people displaced from their homes and with nowhere else to turn. Women and children who had been forced to leave with nothing but what they could carry on their backs. Miss Dove’s dress was simple but of decent quality, and she had worn an evening gown when she had attended the party. That didn’t mean that friends of hers were equally fortunate.

‘I’m sorry. I’ve seen the devastation in France and Belgium with my own eyes, and it was shocking for me. It’s inconceivable what that must be like.’

‘Then give us your aid, Mr Arton-Price. We are searching for support in our quest to restore it to the glory it once was.’

‘Do you need a donation to a fund? I’m afraid I don’t have access to much as it’s mostly in trust, and I’m between jobs.’

She smiled warmly. ‘Not gold or silver.’

‘What, then?’

She turned to him and placed both hands on his arm, gazing up at him in entreaty. Her fingers were warm against the soft flesh of his inner wrist and the pressure sent moths dancing across his skin. It was distractingly pleasurable and when she looked up into his eyes, the world receded.

‘How brave is your heart? How true is your soul?’ she murmured. Her lips were the pink of early strawberries and looked just as tempting. ‘Will you cross over and journey with us to help restore what needs to be restored?’

‘I’m afraid I can’t leave everything here and come to Belgium,’ he said.

He didn’t think what he said was that funny, but she gave a rippling laugh that struck him as rather absurd.

‘Not Belgium, then? You still haven’t told me where you’re from,’ he prompted.

Her eyes became dreamy. ‘The land of great lakes and mountains. Where fruits grow in abundance and the grasses are so soft you can make a bed of them.’

‘It sounds wonderful,’ Kit said. His family had visited the Italian Lakes when he was nine, then journeyed until they reached the French Alps. His mind filled with visions of the mountains fresh with the first dusting of winter snows, and spring flowers budding through the bleak wildness.

‘It is. Or was. It can be again. A place where the dreams of mankind can come true.’ She gazed up at him, her lashes fluttering, causing his heartbeat to grow feathery.

‘Do you have dreams, Kit Arton-Price?’ she breathed.

Screaming rockets. Screaming horses. Screaming men.

Nights thrashing in sweat-soaked sheets that clutched him like desperate hands.

His back grew clammy.

‘Not pleasant ones,’ he muttered.

She touched his shoulder, resting her fingers so lightly this time he could barely feel the pressure. ‘Would you like them to be better? There are ways and means to ensure that.’

He couldn’t quite believe she was intending to seduce him in broad daylight, but her eyes were intoxicating and he was falling into them.

‘Miss Dove, you lack subtlety.’

They both turned at the voice. Mr Wilde and Adelaide were walking back towards them. Miss Dove dropped her gaze to the floor, biting her lip, then glanced at Mr Wilde.

‘We were just talking,’ she muttered, withdrawing her hand from Kit’s shoulder and giving him a rueful look. ‘I was telling Mr Arton-Price about our home.’

‘It sounds like a beautiful country,’ Kit said, trying to break the awkwardness.

‘I too am trying to impress the beauty of our land upon Miss Wyndham,’ Mr Wilde said. ‘I hope I’m being slightly more persuasive in my efforts to recruit her.’

‘I’m sorry,’ Kit said. ‘I don’t believe either of us will be able to help you with what you need. Not that I’m very sure what that is.’

‘We were on our way to admire the gardens when we spotted you two,’ Adelaide said to Kit. ‘Come with us.’

‘We’d be delighted,’ Mr Wilde replied, giving a reverential bow of his head.

It seemed natural at that point to swap partners. Miss Dove fell in beside him. As Mr Wilde took her arm she fixed Kit with a piercing stare.

‘Perhaps on another occasion I can impress upon you just how subtle I can be.’

She winked and walked away.

He opened his mouth, but catching Adelaide’s look of astonishment, he closed it again. He didn’t have any particular intention or expectation of meeting Miss Dove again, and with Adelaide turning scarlet it would probably be just as well.

Kit and Adelaide strolled slowly together while Mr Wilde and Miss Dove walked ahead. Wilde seemed rather cross with her, striding with his hand around her waist in a manner that almost forced her to keep up. She glared at him in profile. He whispered something in her ear and her face softened. She laughed and they slowed to a more leisurely pace, allowing Kit and Adelaide to overtake them. Miss Dove had one of the most expressive faces Kit could remember ever encountering.

‘What were you talking about? She seemed awfully close to you,’ Adelaide muttered.

‘She was trying to persuade me to go to wherever they’re from and help to rebuild it. I don’t know what exactly she thinks I’d be any use doing. They’d be better off going to the cities and asking factory workers or looking for employees on the farms, though I’d rather they didn’t because we need them here.’

Adelaide wrinkled her nose. ‘Mr Wilde was asking me the same thing, but I got the impression he wants people with ideas rather than manual labour. Aren’t you tempted, at all?’

Kit dropped her arm and stared at her in astonishment. ‘Not at all. I have enough to do here. Are you?’

‘A little.’ She smiled dreamily. ‘It sounds such a beautiful place. Wild moors and rivers, and snow-capped mountains.’

‘We have moors and rivers here,’ Kit said, feeling slightly aggrieved on behalf of Yorkshire. ‘Besides, what about cities and theatres and restaurants? Do they have those?’

‘I don’t know, but I can’t imagine anywhere that doesn’t. Why don’t we go together and find out?’

‘Yes, both of you come. That would be wonderful,’ Miss Dove said brightly, joining them. Her hearing was very sharp.

‘We can’t and that’s the end of it, I’m afraid,’ Kit said.

Adelaide’s mouth turned down. ‘Is this what marriage to you is going to be like?’

‘Keeping you from doing something rash when you have no idea what the consequences would be? You make it sound like a bad thing. It’s what all good husbands would do,’ Kit replied, remembering Miss Dove’s earlier comments.

‘Deciding for both of us? You’re not in the army any longer, and I’m not one of your men to command,’ Adelaide snapped.

Kit stepped back at her words, which had been hurled with force. The prospect reared up of their having a full-blown quarrel with an audience. From the corner of his good eye, he could just about see Mr Wilde and Miss Dove both watching and not concealing their interest, Mr Wilde with a slight smile that Kit found intolerable.

‘I’m not going to lay down the law to you, Adelaide,’ he said levelly, standing straight and trying to look dignified. ‘If you wish to go off to help then I will not dream of stopping you.’

‘Well, then. I’ll consider it.’ Adelaide tightened her lips then gave a curt nod.

Mr Wilde looked quite satisfied, which gave Kit a small degree of pleasure. Adelaide would change her mind as soon as she realised what it would be like going somewhere that had recently suffered the devastation of war. He could almost smell the fire and decay just thinking of it. The burnt-out houses and piles of rubble that half-revealed remnants of everyday life. The thick ash that covered everything, so that one might think the trees and grass grew grey naturally.

Aware that the quarrel had been narrowly averted, Kit felt suddenly disinclined to spend any more time with the odd couple.

‘Adelaide, I promised that I would go and judge the children’s sack race,’ he said. ‘Will you join me?’

‘Of course.’ She adjusted her gloves and gave him a thin smile that suggested if the battle wasn’t over, she was content to call a temporary truce. ‘I was rather hoping we could take some tea as well.’

‘If you will excuse us,’ Kit said.

‘Of course.’ Mr Wilde held out his hand and after a brief hesitation, Kit shook it. Then Mr Wilde raised Adelaide’s hand to his lips.

‘I hope we’ll meet again soon.’

Miss Dove was looking at the ground. She twisted the bangle back and forth around her wrist, worrying at it.

‘It was nice talking to you,’ Kit said to her. She looked up briefly and her mouth jerked up at one side into a sort of smile.

‘Was it? I’m glad you think so. Goodbye, Mr Arton-Price. Or perhaps it’s only au revoir .’

The two of them walked away.

‘If I didn’t know better, I’d say she was trying to enamour you,’ Adelaide murmured.

Kit glanced over his shoulder to check they weren’t within earshot, storing away the comment about knowing better for later. He wasn’t overly vain, and was painfully aware of how little he had to offer a woman in the way of company or charm, but there was something in Adelaide’s casual sureness that was wounding.