Chapter Seven #2
He turned his head to smile at her. ‘You are one of the most unusual females it has ever been my pleasure to encounter. There, will that do?’
‘I am unsure if that was intended as a compliment, but I shall take it as one,’ she replied with a tilt of her head. ‘I should hate to be seen as a sheep, following the lead of whoever sets the fashion.’
‘Don’t ever change.’
‘You mentioned just now that you are acquainted with my aunt,’ she said, after they had journeyed on for several minutes without speaking. ‘Tell me about her.’
‘She is as different from your mother as it is possible for any two sisters to be.’
‘With the exception of myself and Sophia is, I think, what you are too polite to say.’
He nodded. ‘The dissimilarities between the two of you had not passed me by.’ He paused.
‘I have a great deal of time for your aunt, but I shall leave you to make up your own mind about her. I like Bartholomew too. He’s a good man, strong and forthright, and I was sorry to learn that his days are numbered. ’
Lady Farrah lowered her head but made no response.
There were a dozen things that Reuben wanted to say to her, expanding upon his earlier thoughts about her father’s cowardly disappearance, but he refrained.
Instead, they made idle remarks about the passing scenery as Reuben guided his lively team along the roads.
He felt comfortable in her presence, but seeing the conflicting emotions flitting across her face as she attempted to remain resolute reminded Reuben of the precariousness of her situation and renewed his determination to find answers for her.
Even if the answers were detrimental to her family’s interests.
Surely, he reasoned, she would prefer to know, no matter how dire the truth turned out to be.
‘This is it.’
Lady Farrah gasped as Reuben slowed his team at a large gatehouse that protected a sprawling estate. He was obviously recognised by the porter, who doffed his hat and waved his carriage through the gates.
‘This is magnificent,’ she said, awestruck. ‘Not so very far from Dalton House and yet a million times removed. Whilst our estate is falling into disrepair, this one is superbly maintained.’
There seemed little Reuben could say in response, so he made do with a nod.
‘I am surprised that our paths have not crossed in local society – mine and my aunt’s, that is,’ Lady Farrah added.
‘But then they didn’t in London either. It’s almost as though there is an unwritten arrangement between the two families to remain detached.
’ She paused, her expression reflective.
‘It’s odd, but I had not considered the situation in such a light before, I suppose because that’s the way it has always been.
Presumably your lady mother did not invite my parents and the Bartholomews to the same engagements, and the same can probably be said for other hostesses. ’
Her nervous gush of words stuttered to a halt when Reuben drew his carriage to a stop at the entrance portico.
A groom rushed up to take the horses’ heads, while a footman appeared to let the steps down and help Lady Farrah to alight.
Reuben jumped down and took his companion’s elbow as they were greeted by a butler, who addressed Reuben by name.
‘We are here to see Lady Bartholomew,’ Reuben said, ‘if she is receiving. This is Lady Farrah Dalton.’
The butler forgot his training by allowing himself a brief twitch of one eyebrow.
‘Please follow me, your grace. I shall see if my mistress is free to receive you.’
The butler left them in a small salon that was tastefully decorated and ornamented, but Lady Farrah seemed too nervous to take in her surroundings fully.
Unable to remain passively seated, she stood and paced the length of the small room, gazing through a side window at gardens that were just beginning to come alive again after the winter.
Reuben stood too and wanted to say or do something to put her at her ease, but the words stalled on his tongue as he tried to decide if he had gone too far by attempting to heal the breach between the two families – a breach that had spanned twenty years.
It was really none of his affair, but the desire to be of service to Lady Farrah when her aunt was soon to become a widow superseded all vestiges of protocol and common sense.
No answers presented themselves before the door was thrust open and Lady Bartholomew sailed through it, her arms outstretched.
‘Farrah,’ she said, enveloping that lady in a fierce hug. ‘Can it really be you?’
Farrah, a bundle of nervous uncertainty and doubt, was taken totally by surprise at the warmth of her aunt’s greeting.
A light, fresh fragrance assaulted her nostrils as she spontaneously responded in kind to Lady Bartholomew’s affectionate embrace.
The type of embrace that she had never had the pleasure of receiving from her own mother.
‘I had long given up any hope of ever meeting you.’
Her aunt released Farrah and held her by her shoulders, taking in every inch of her person with a hungry gaze. For the first time in her life, Farrah wished that she had been blessed with better looks and could only hope that her aunt was not too disappointed by what she saw.
‘I have followed your progress closely, both of you,’ she said, ‘but despaired of ever being able to speak with you. I promised most faithfully, you see.’
Farrah swallowed, aware that she ought to say something about a situation that had always been a mystery to her.
‘It is lovely to make your acquaintance too, Aunt,’ she said, realising how inadequate that must sound to such a forthright lady who seemed so genuine, so welcoming, so everything that Farrah had never known in her own small family.
‘I wish it could have been under happier circumstances,’ she added.
Her aunt’s smile abruptly faded. ‘As do I, my dear, as do I. But your visit has lifted my spirits, even in these darkest of times.’
‘Then I am very glad that I came.’
Lady Bartholomew turned to the duke. ‘And I am much obliged to you, your grace, for bringing my niece here, even if I have yet to decide why you did so,’ she said, but this time her smile showed signs of strain.
Perhaps she had realised how inappropriate it was for her to be smiling at a time when the life was ebbing from her husband’s body.
There again, Farrah was left with the impression that her aunt was not a slave to traditional mores and carved her own path.
‘I will gladly explain,’ Farrah interceded. ‘We have obviously come at a time when you cannot be spared from your husband’s sickbed for long. I did not mean to …’
Farrah’s words trailed off. She had absolutely no idea what she had or had not intended. Besides, her aunt had already waved a hand to cut off her apology.
‘Nonsense, child! I have not waited all this time to meet you only to have our time together cut short.’ Her voice caught in her throat.
‘My dearest husband will not know if I am away from his side for a short time.’ She swiped impatiently at a single tear as it trickled down her face.
‘He is beyond knowing anything of this world, and I shall return to him soon enough.’ She clapped her hands in her lap and clearly made a conscious effort to pull herself together. ‘But first we shall have tea.’
She rang the bell, and tea was brought in immediately, her request having obviously been anticipated. She poured for them all with a hand that was only slightly unsteady and passed the cups round.
‘You have come in search of your father, I have no doubt,’ Lady Bartholomew remarked.
Shocked by the casual statement, Farrah sloshed tea into her saucer and hastily set her cup aside.
‘How on earth did you know that?’ she asked, eyes widened with shock.
Without waiting for a response, she turned accusatory eyes upon the duke.
‘It was more than instinct that made you suggest we come here, wasn’t it?
’ She wrinkled her brow in an accusatory manner.
‘You were already aware that my father and aunt were not a party to the family feud.’