Chapter 5 #2
“Grandmama!” he said, leaving Meg for a moment to cross the room and kneel before her. “Why, you beautiful creature. How marvellous you look. You’ve not aged a day since I was eight years old, I do declare.”
“Stuff!” she replied, rapping his knuckles with the ebony fan she held. “Don’t give me any of your flummery, my boy. I ain’t one of your ladybirds.”
“How could you be? You’re far prettier,” he said, placing his hand upon his heart.
“Oh, get up! Get up!” she said crossly, though her eyes sparkled with delight. “If you’ve quite finished acting the fool, you might like to introduce me,” she said, having at once noticed he was not alone. She regarded Meg with interest.
Nat kissed her gnarled fingers, giving them a gentle squeeze before he got to his feet and returned to Meg, who was looking rather startled at his unconventional way of greeting his aged relation.
“Dearest Grandmother, please allow me to introduce Miss Margaret Bancroft, my fiancée. Meg, this is my grandmother, the Dowager Duchess of Hawkney.”
Nat’s heart thudded as Meg dipped an elegant curtsey.
“I am pleased to meet you, your grace,” she said politely, as Nat felt a swift and unexpected surge of pride. How elegant she was, so poised and graceful. He really could not have asked for more from her.
“Well, don’t stand about gawking at me. Come closer so I can see you,” his grandmother said, gesturing for them to approach.
Meg did so, not batting an eyelid, though she must have felt rather daunted by such uncompromising speech.
“Engaged since when?” his grandmother demanded, narrowing her eyes.
“Oh, not long at all,” Nat said easily, though his guts seemed to have tied themselves into a knot. “A few short weeks. I knew I would be here for Christmas, so I wanted to give you the joyful tidings myself.”
“Hmph,” she said, giving him a squinting look that made the knot pull tighter. “What was your name? Bamford?”
“Bancroft, ma’am,” Meg said, not flinching under the dowager’s critical gaze, though her cheeks grew rather pink. This was not a bad thing, however, as she’d been rather pale on arrival and this showed her to advantage.
“Who are your people?”
“I have no people, I’m afraid,” Meg replied apologetically. “For my father was the last of his line. He was a scholar, and we lived a very secluded life.”
“A scholar? Lived secluded? How in the blazes did you meet this rascal, then? It weren’t in no library and no power on earth will make me believe it.”
Nat winced inwardly but held his tongue; they had discussed this, after all. Meg was clever enough to make it believable, of that he felt certain.
“No, indeed,” she said, with a rueful smile and a fond glance at Nat that even he half believed.
“But Nat came to stay with a local family during the summer on several occasions. Our cottage was on their estate, and we used to encounter each other from time to time, for I was given leave to walk in the grounds.”
Whilst their meeting was obviously a complete fabrication, Nat’s knowledge of the Haines family and their son, Edgar, could not hurt. He had not seen the fellow since his schooldays and had certainly never visited, but it gave the story a sense of truth it might have otherwise lacked.
“Sadly, Meg’s father passed away and, the next time I visited, I found her in rather difficult circumstances,” Nat said, reaching for Meg’s hand and returning her fond smile, which was easier to do than he might have imagined.
“I decided I ought to play knight in shining armour for once in my life, and help her sort out his affairs, but whilst I performed my good deed, I discovered something far more precious and lovely than I could have ever expected.”
Meg blushed and looked away, unable to hold his gaze, which was perfect as it was quite right that a modest young woman should look so awkward, but Nat knew she was struggling to endure his rather mawkish sentiments.
For his part, he was beginning to enjoy himself, despite his eagle-eyed grandmother’s scrutiny.
“Very pretty, I’m sure,” the dowager replied, looking from him to Meg and back again. “So, you’ve reformed, have you? Mended your wicked ways, hmmm?”
Her eyes glittered with intelligence and Nat’s heart kicked in his chest, but he gave a nonchalant shrug.
“As much as a wicked fellow ever can, Grandmother,” he said, trying for sincerity, but his lips kept quirking up at the corners.
The old lady snorted. “Well, I shall look forward to your explaining all that to Hawkney. Better than a play, I reckon,” she said sagely. “But you’ve tonight to gird your loins, for he’s not here yet.”
“He’s not?” Nat said, unable to hide his relief at the unexpected reprieve. “What a pity,” he added, his lack of sincerity just as visible.
“Wretched boy,” the dowager said, shaking her head.
“Well, run along and freshen up, I’ve no doubt you’re longing to have a rest and to tidy yourself after your journey.
You have your old room, Nathaniel, and Miss Bancroft may have the yellow room, as it was prepared in case of any unexpected arrivals.
Your mama is here, but she had a fit of the vapours or some nonsense and is lying down with her sal volatile.
Honestly, she is a foolish creature. I sometimes forget just how foolish.
How did I ever produce such a child?” she added, apparently quite perplexed by this.
“Well, she produced me,” Nat pointed out helpfully.
His grandmother looked back at him in consternation. “Well, what the devil does that prove?”
“I—” Nat began, and then shook his head. “Actually, I don’t have the faintest idea. Forget I said it. Good day, Gee-Gee. I shall see you later.”
“Such nonsense, foolish boy,” the old lady grumbled, but Nat knew she was delighted he had remembered his pet name for her as he guided Meg out of the room.
“Oh, my. Oh, my.”
At first, he did not hear exactly what Meg was saying as he led her out of the room and towards the stairs, she seemed to mumble something under her breath, over and over, and then he caught it.
“Oh, my, oh, my, oh, my—”
“You were brilliant,” he said with enthusiasm. “Absolutely perfect. I knew you would be.”
She shot him a look that could have frozen even the devil’s tender parts and Nat winced.
“I must have been out of my mind!” she said urgently. “I can’t do this. I can’t. I simply can’t. It was a terrible mistake. I must leave at once.”
“Don’t be daft,” he said, which on reflection was a mistake.
The frigid look became several degrees chillier, which was impressive if nothing else.
“Daft?” she repeated stonily. “You think it is daft to believe that I cannot stay in this house for the next three weeks and pretend to be your fiancée? I tell you what was daft, me thinking I could ever get away with it. Did you see the way she looked at me when I said I had no people? Oh, I feel sick,” she said, clutching at her stomach.
Nat looked at her in alarm, noting how very pale she was.
“This way,” he said, taking her arm and marching her down the hallway.
Thankfully, his grandmother’s restorations had not altered the structure of the house significantly and he discovered his favourite part of it still intact and in the same place as always.
Warm, damp air hit them as he pushed open the doors to the small but elegant orangery and guided Meg inside. She had said nothing as he propelled her along, but her mouth fell open in a little ‘o’ of astonishment.
“Sit down there,” he instructed, giving her a gentle push until she planted her behind upon one of a pretty arrangement of white painted wrought-iron chairs set about a round table.
Though it was December, the trees were flowering, some covered in fruit, and the humid air was perfumed with a sweet, citrusy scent that enveloped them in its gentle embrace.
Meg took a breath and let it out again, gazing around in wonder. “How beautiful it is,” she said, shaking her head. “I never thought to see such a thing.”
She lifted her hand, reaching out to touch a lemon, laughing a little as her fingers brushed the waxy skin.
“This is my favourite place at Hatherley Hall,” Nat admitted, taking the seat beside her. “Perhaps in the world, actually.”
Meg glanced at him, clearly surprised by his admission. “Really? I assumed that would be the theatre, or a gambling hell, if I’m entirely honest.”
“Ah, I see I have made an excellent impression,” he replied dryly.
Well, it was hardly to be wondered at. He appeared to be a fashionable fribble and lived the life expected of one. “I beg your pardon, I did not mean that to sound so insultproprieting,” she said, looking appalled.
Nat waved away her apology. “Don’t trouble yourself. My family would say it too, and I’ve given no one any reason to suppose otherwise. It’s true, all the same.”
“I can understand that,” she said, closing her eyes and taking another deep breath. “It’s wonderful. That perfume is quite intoxicating, and it’s so… so peaceful.”
“It is,” Nat replied, though he was not feeling especially peaceful as he gazed upon her up-tilted face. The sinking sun burnished the windows with a last golden glow and lit up her profile, gilding the elegant line of her nose, the long, slender column of her neck.
He had a sudden, intense desire to press his lips to the tender spot beneath her ear, to kiss her and breathe in her scent to see if it was as sweet as the citrus blossom.
Shocked, Nat sprang to his feet and took several steps away to ensure he was not mad enough to act upon the impulse. She was ready to flee as it was; if she thought he had designs upon her person, he would not see her for dust.
Happily, she seemed oblivious to his agitation, too beguiled by the beautiful setting to notice his sudden retreat. Unnerved by his reckless impulse to ravish her, Nat did his best to give his mind a new, safer occupation.