Chapter Seven
All was noise and merriment out on the wide lawn before the house the following afternoon when Nicholas stood at the drawing room window, watching and waiting for the arrival of General Haviland’s carriage.
Owen, his shirtsleeves rolled to the elbow, his coat abandoned on the grass, was kicking a ball around with some of the younger Cunningham children as well as Devlin’s three.
All the youngsters seemed to be shrieking.
Miss Cunningham was in their midst too, flushed and laughing, her hair less sleek than usual, as she helped the twins and three-year-old Awen connect with the ball instead of kicking into the wind as it sailed on by.
Robbie was playing with his dog, which was trying to join in the game and bowl over the smaller children in its excitement.
Mama and Mrs. Cunningham stood talking at the edge of the terrace, though even as he watched, Mrs. Cunningham stopped the ball with her foot as it rolled her way and returned it with a vigorous swing of her leg.
Sarah and her father cheered encouragement to every child who needed it.
He had one arm loosely about Andrew’s shoulders to include him with the group.
The boy otherwise tended to stand alone with just his silent world for company, though interestingly enough, he never looked actively unhappy.
Nicholas could hear the noise of the children through the open windows of the drawing room and only wished he could go down and join in the fun.
However, he owed it to the guests Gwyneth and Dev had invited at his request to appear to them as if their arrival was important to him—as indeed it was.
It would not be at all the thing to greet them while panting and sweating in his shirtsleeves, his hair wild.
A watched pot, it was said, never boiled, and a watched-for carriage never arrived.
It was impossible, of course, to predict the exact time a carriage coming all the way from London would arrive.
But at last he saw it approaching, and he checked the folds of his neckcloth and brushed his hands down the sleeves of his coat.
“They are here,” he said.
Stephanie came to join him at the window. “I can hardly wait to meet Miss Haviland,” she said. “I hope we will be friends. Do you love her very dearly, Nick?”
His younger sister, still unmarried at the age of twenty-five, nevertheless was a hopeless romantic.
“I am looking forward to seeing her again,” he said.
She chuckled at the evasiveness of his answer.
“It was a rhetorical question anyway,” she said.
“You must love her or you would not have had her invited here.” She turned as Devlin and Gwyneth got to their feet to go downstairs to greet the new arrivals.
Nicholas offered Stephanie his arm and followed them.
“Is she as beautiful as Aunt Kitty assured Mama she is?” she asked as they descended the stairs.
“You may judge for yourself in a moment,” he said.
“Aunt Kitty said you make a particularly handsome couple,” she said.
“Well.” He looked sidelong at her. “You have your answer, then. Is Aunt Kitty ever wrong?”
“Miss Haviland would have to be very beautiful indeed if she has attracted you, though,” Stephanie said. “You could have any woman you want, Nick—with the famous exception of Gwyneth, who preferred Dev.” She smiled impishly at him.
“Minx,” he said. “And of course I have been bravely nursing a broken heart ever since.”
They were on their way down the steps to the terrace.
The general’s carriage was just drawing to a halt, and a groom was hurrying forward to open the door and set down the steps.
The children were still at play, though Owen had rolled down his shirtsleeves and was shaking the grass off his coat before pulling it on and striding briskly up to the terrace.
Mama had crossed it to wait at the bottom of the steps.
Houseguests were always given a warm welcome to Ravenswood by as many of the family as were in residence.
Devlin handed Mrs. Haviland down and bade her welcome.
Nicholas helped Grace descend. Not a crease marred the folds of her forest green carriage dress.
Beneath the small brim of her matching bonnet, not a hair was out of place.
There was no sign of weariness on her face despite the length of the journey.
“Welcome to Ravenswood,” he said. “I hope your stay here will be a happy one.”
“Thank you.” She smiled at him and turned to meet Gwyneth and then Devlin, who bowed over her gloved hand and raised it to his lips. She acknowledged Mama and Stephanie with a smile. Ever the cool, gracious lady.
And she was indeed beautiful. The word perfect leaped to mind, but surely no one was perfect.
“Mr. Ware,” she said, offering her hand to Owen. “We met in London.”
Nicholas recovered his manners and shook the general’s hand and asked Mrs. Haviland if she had had a comfortable journey.
“I did, Colonel,” she assured him. “Goodness, what a noisy crowd of children. I see Mr. Cunningham is watching them. I assume they are his family?”
Mrs. Cunningham and her eldest daughter had approached to greet the new arrivals.
Winifred, looking slightly flushed, was introducing her mother to Mrs. Haviland and then Grace, who smiled at them as she had smiled at everyone else.
Were there never any variations in that smile?
He had not particularly noticed that about her before.
“Three of them are Devlin and Gwyneth’s,” he said in answer to Mrs. Haviland’s question of a few moments before. “There is no happier sound, I think, than children at play.”
“There is a time and a place,” she murmured. She smiled as she said it, but he guessed she was less than enamored of the noise of playing children.
“There is one set of twins among them?” Grace asked.
“Emily and Susan,” Nicholas said while Miss Cunningham turned her head to look sharply at him.
“They are extraordinarily alike,” Grace said. “How does anyone ever tell them apart?”
“Susan has a tendency to tip her head slightly to the right,” he said. “Something I have not noticed in her sister. I believe it is because when they are together, they usually hold hands and Emily stands to the right of her twin.”
“How clever of you, Colonel Ware,” Mrs. Cunningham said. “I had not even noticed that myself. Had you, Winnie? I have never been able to explain how exactly we distinguish between them, though we have never found it at all difficult.”
“I had not noticed either,” Winifred said. “But I believe you are right, Colonel.”
“Alice is the giggler,” he said. “But so is Samuel.” He was showing off now for Miss Cunningham.
She had not believed yesterday that he would remember the children’s names.
He had acquired something of a reputation when he was on active service in the Peninsula for knowing each man under his direct command by name, down to the lowliest recruit.
Miss Cunningham was looking at him with raised eyebrows.
“Allow me to escort you inside, ma’am,” Devlin said, offering his arm to Mrs. Haviland while Gwyneth slipped a hand through the general’s arm.
Nicholas turned to a smiling Grace, and they followed the others inside.
“What a magnificent house this is,” she said. “I look forward to seeing more of it in the coming days and more of the park.”
“It will be my pleasure to show them to you,” he said.
—
The following morning brought a note from Cartref, the neighboring estate to the east of Ravenswood, on the other side of the hills, inviting the Havilands and the Cunninghams and their eldest daughter to join Sir Ifor and Lady Rhys for morning coffee.
Gwyneth laughed when she read it aloud at the breakfast table.
“They cannot wait to meet you all,” she said. “Shall I accept? I had promised to give everyone the grand tour of the house this morning, but I suppose it can wait. I will go with you, of course. They are my parents.”
“It is a gracious invitation,” Mrs. Haviland said. “We will be delighted to go.”
“I made arrangements with the dowager countess last evening to call upon her and her husband at their cottage this morning,” Mr. Cunningham said. “It is time I got to work.”
“It is very kind of your parents to invite us, Lady Stratton,” Mrs. Cunningham said. “I would be delighted to go, but Joel and I cannot both abandon the children.”
“I will stay with them, Mama,” Winifred said.
She was a bit disappointed by the invitation, flattering though it was, especially for Mama and Papa.
She had been looking forward to the tour of the house this morning.
Owen had been going to come too. He had even promised to show Winifred his favorite parts.
She had been hoping for some time just with him.
However, as the countess had pointed out, the tour would wait.
And Mama must not feel obliged to be tied to the children every moment of her stay here.
“There is a nurse perfectly competent to care for and amuse a whole army of children,” the earl said.
“Our own children adore her. She gives them what Gwyneth calls firm love. And there are a few maids who are only too happy to be called upon to assist her when there are more children in the nursery than just our own. You must feel free to enjoy your stay here, ma’am.
You too, Miss Cunningham. Did I hear Owen tell you last evening that he would give you a bit of a personal tour this morning?
” He looked at his brother with raised eyebrows.
“I would be delighted still to do so,” Owen said, beaming at Winifred. “I am always happy to show off the family home to a new and appreciative audience.”
“Thank you,” Winifred said. “That would be lovely.”
She did, however, end up going to Cartref. She went directly after breakfast at the invitation of Stephanie to fetch Sian Rhys, young daughter of Idris Rhys and his wife, to play with her cousins at the Hall.