Chapter Two #4
‘But, damnit—!’ Shacklock barked, thwarted, and then swallowed his spleen.
Richard actually saw his Adam’s apple bob as it went down.
To insult a gentleman’s sister was not done.
In another age, Richard could have called him out.
He was perfectly entitled to offer to thrash him.
‘I bid you good day!’ Shacklock snapped, kicked his horse so that it jerked into motion, and rode past Richard at a punishing trot.
Piper gave him what was almost a sympathetic look as he passed, along with the required touch of his hat.
Richard sent Nesta on with a gentle squeeze.
Poor Alice! He thought how much he would have liked to knock Shacklock down, to punch him right on his bony nose and make it spout.
And then invite him to get up and be knocked down again.
He relished the image for a moment, but a hundred yards further along the track he knew it was only a substitute for knocking down Sir Thomas Burton.
Not for marrying Chloe – he was welcome to her – but for taking Molly away.
Burton could at least have given her her congé after the wedding.
A firm dismissal and a boat ticket back to England – what would that have cost him?
He rode on. Mastitis at The Bottoms. He could guess the cause: the Ordes hauled at their cows’ teats like bell-ringers. They were famously heavy-handed. Like Shacklock.
‘Really? Really truly?’ Bobby Wharfedale cried in delight.
‘Really truly,’ Nina said, warmed by her reaction.
‘How far are you along?’
‘Three months,’ Nina admitted.
‘But, you sly thing, you never said a word! Or have you only just found out?’
‘I knew before Christmas, but I wanted to keep it secret. I had to tell you to explain why I won’t be hunting any more this season.’
‘Oh, yes, that is a dreadful bore. But why a secret? I’m sure your Mr Cowling would love to shout it from the rooftops. Is he terribly, terribly pleased?’
‘Oh, yes. He’d take out a notice in The Times, I think.’
‘So why, then?’
Nina looked away. They were in the common sitting-room at Welland Hall, which was a comfortable, shabby room into which everyone came directly from outside; where generations of children and dogs had made hay on the furniture, and there was nothing that minded muddy paws or the transfer of horse-hair from breeches, or the many random things children brought back from walks, whether sticks or sticklebacks.
She knew Mr Cowling was puzzled by it: he thought if you had money, you made everything in your house as fine as possible.
He had only been in the common sitting-room once: Bobby had recognised his bewilderment, and had always since received him in the drawing-room.
‘I’m a little apprehensive,’ Nina said at last.
‘Oh, don’t be! There’s nothing to it – only not being able to ride, which is why I told Aubrey I would only have the two.
Though I might think about another one day if I could be sure I’d get a boy.
Insurance, you know. But, honestly, you’ll enjoy it.
Have you been terribly sick? Because that passes. ’
‘No, just a little queasy sometimes.’
‘I wasn’t sick at all with Rupert, but I was with Elizabeth. But once that’s over, you’ll feel marvellous – right up to the very end, when you’re so big you can’t bend down to pick up anything you’ve dropped. But that’s what servants are for. You want a boy, of course.’
‘I suppose so, though Mr Cowling says he doesn’t mind, he’s just so pleased it’s happening.’
‘He didn’t have any with his first wife, did he?’ Bobby said. ‘Oh, Nina, I’m so pleased for you! It’s the most wonderful news. Can I tell everyone?’
‘Yes, I’m writing to my aunt and Kitty and everyone today, so tell away.’
‘It’s just a shame about hunting. What will you do about Jewel?’
‘I suppose I’ll have to turn him out,’ Nina said, with a sigh.
‘You can lend him to me if you like – I’ll hunt him for you.
My sisters are coming next week and they’ll want Star and Dover, which only leaves me with Florence for a second horse, and she’s slow and not much of a jumper.
I’d be happy to leave her at home and take Jewel for you.
Now don’t look at me like that! You know I don’t over-face my horses.
He’ll be quite safe with me – and I promise not to let anyone else on his back for a second. ’
‘Oh, I wasn’t having doubts about you. It was just envy.’
‘Never mind! You’re having a baby, that’s the important thing. And you’ll love every minute, I promise you. It’s the most delightful feeling.’ She distracted herself. ‘I know what I meant to ask you: what’s this I hear about Mr Cowling buying Utterby’s twenty acres?’
‘He said it used to belong to Wriothesby House in the past. He wants to make a proper park, turn the house into an estate.’
‘What a lovely idea. And best of all, it means you’re really settling here, doesn’t it? I was afraid you might be whisked away somewhere more fashionable.’
Nina laughed. ‘I don’t think we’re the fashionable sort.’
Bobby’s eyes widened. ‘Now, Nina, that’s a pure fabrication. Mr Cowling mixes with all the top people. You have a house in London. You’ve dined with the King.’
‘I suppose, when you put it like that…’
When she got home, she found Mr Cowling waiting for her. ‘Well? Was she pleased for you?’ he asked.
‘Couldn’t have been more so. She sent you congratulations. And she’s going to tell everyone in Market Harborough.’
‘Aye, well, I’ve had the start of her. She may not find anyone who doesn’t know.’ He took both her hands. ‘Oh, Nina, do you know how happy you’ve made me?’
‘If it’s as happy as I am, yes, I do,’ Nina said, smiling up at him.
‘Oh, that’s a nice way to put it. You’ve a way with words.
I’m better with deeds – and I’ve something to show you.
’ He led her into the small room off the hall that he used as a study.
On the desk was a large roll of paper. He unfurled it, weighting the ends with various objects. It was a set of architect’s plans.
‘This is just the first draft, you understand,’ he said. ‘We can change it as we please, and I’m betting we will. But you have to start somewhere.’
‘What is it?’ Nina asked, though she had guessed.
‘The new wing I’m planning. Wriothesby House is a fine old place – it was you taught me to appreciate it, my love – but it’s too small to be the country seat of an important person. And by the time our son inherits it, he’ll be an important person all right.’
‘We’re having a son, are we?’
He smiled at her. ‘Now, then, we’ve been into that. If it’s a girl, I’ll love her just as much. But for argument’s sake—’
‘Yes, I know. Go on.’
‘When I was talking to Utterby about buying the land, I thought to myself that it would be a bit unbalanced, a park of twenty acres – well, twenty-two when you count in the garden and the bit of spinney down the north end – and this small house. Like wearing a hat that’s too big.
So I got that architect chap we both liked, Leathwaite, to draw up a rough plan for a new wing.
A couple of decent-sized reception rooms down here.
Four or five bedrooms. A bathroom or two,’ he said, giving her a look that was almost gleeful – their bathroom had excited Market Harborough when they’d had it put in.
‘And here, at the top, the nursery suite.’ His look had become shy and tender.
‘A palace fit for a prince – or a princess.’ He laid his hand over hers, as it rested on the plans, and squeezed it.
‘Our first-born. There never was a child more wanted.’
That night, he came to her bedroom. As he slipped under the covers, he laid a hand against her cheek and said, ‘I asked, and it will be all right for a few weeks more, as long as you’re comfortable. Oh, Nina, I love you so much. Shall we?’
She turned her head and kissed his palm for answer.
Since he had rediscovered his ability, he had wanted to do it often.
At first she had just tolerated it, as she believed was her duty, but lately something had changed in her.
She had begun to find not just comfort in it, but pleasure.
It seemed to be something her body wanted, as her mind wanted the reassurance, the closeness, the warmth of his undoubted love.
When he touched her cheek and said, ‘Shall we?’ she had felt a certain sort of pang inside that she recognised now.
Was it, she wondered, something that came with being pregnant?
Whatever it was, she gave herself to the sensations, which had the additional benefit of driving away thought for a while.
Like hunting, it occupied you to the exclusion of everything else, and there was a release in that.
And when it was over, and he drew her onto his shoulder and folded his arms round her, she felt a great kindness and affection for him that were almost as good as love.
As she drifted into a contented sleep, she thought drowsily, No, that was ungenerous. It was love. A kind of love. There could be more than one sort, couldn’t there?