Chapter Fourteen #3
‘Other stories, too. It’s…something to do,’ she added, on a downward note.
‘I’d like to see ’em,’ he said. ‘They’ll be special.’ She knew from his tone that he had understood her underlying thought, I shall never be a great artist, and was refuting it. He always understood.
Just then a movement of the crowd pushed him against her, and their hands, trapped at their sides, touched.
She couldn’t help herself: her fingers curled round his; his folded protectively round hers; and she looked up at him.
Just one brief, stolen glance, to sear his face on her memory.
In the moving light of the bonfire flames, he looked all golden, his beautiful features carved – a golden statue.
Then the pressure eased and they moved apart again.
He made a small sound, as though he was going to say something more, and then he was gone, quickly and silently, leaving a black yawning space beside her.
Rose knew perfectly well that Michael Woodrow was there.
She had been avoiding him all evening, with some skill, but her luck could not last. When she was helping to clear the tables of dirty plates, he caught her with a loaded tray in her hands, too hampered by it to squeeze through a gap and slip away.
As a precaution, he took hold of the other side of the tray. ‘It’s no use trying to run away,’ he said.
She gave him a scornful look. ‘I wouldn’t trouble myself to run away from you,’ she said. When she heard it, it didn’t sound as good as it had in her head.
‘I’m glad to hear it,’ he said. ‘I don’t want you to. Unless we do it together – how about that, Miss Hawkins? Shall we elope to Gretna Green? Would that be romantic?’
‘Stupid, more like,’ she said. ‘Don’t you ever give up?’
He became serious. ‘No. You should know that about me. I shan’t give up. I’d be a poor specimen if I didn’t fight for you.’
‘I never asked you to. Why can’t you just leave it alone?’
‘Because I know you care for me, and I don’t understand what I’ve done wrong. Why are you angry with me? It can’t be for asking you to marry me.’
‘Oh, can’t it?’ she retorted.
‘But that makes no sense. Tell me, Rosie dear, what is it that troubles you?’
His tenderness almost undid her, but she replied harshly, though with tears underneath, ‘There are things about me you don’t know. And if you knew them, you wouldn’t want to marry me. So there! Now let go my tray. Or you can take it yourself, it makes no difference to me.’
He let go, and she turned and stepped away as quickly as she could, almost running into Frederick, who was looming there. ‘Get out of my way,’ she snapped.
‘I’ll take this one,’ he said. ‘You go and enjoy yourself.’
She looked at him suspiciously, not believing he could be kind. ‘What’s to enjoy? Load o’ noise and rubbishing people! Nothing but more work for us.’
He shook his head, with a look of amused understanding. ‘Why don’t you say yes to the poor bloke and be done with it? If you keep pushing him away he might stay pushed one day. And he’s quite a catch, I’d have thought.’
‘You’d have thought wrong, then. Mind your own business and get out of my way.’
He was clearly laughing at her as he stepped aside, which did nothing either for her anger or the regret she was trying to force back down.
Richard, being male, did not have to wait to be asked to dance.
He picked out the prettiest girl he could see, neatly cut her out from her hovering male attendant, and swept her, giggling, into the circle.
She was not unwilling, and he danced with great vigour, seeing the approving eyes, the smiling faces, all around.
He knew they liked him for setting aside dignity.
In a lifetime of being the Spare, the younger son, he had learned exactly where the line was between joining in and making a fool of himself.
They liked it when a god stepped down to their level for a little while, but he must always remain a god.
The girl was pleased to have been chosen; his arm round her waist and his hand holding hers were an innocent thrill that she might boast about to her female friends. But flirtation must be hearty, overt, and obviously not intended to be taken seriously. He had his father’s example not to follow.
And, of course, in another class altogether, there was the example of Lady Shacklock.
The unwelcome thought of her suddenly arrived and almost made him miss his step.
Relations between the Castle and Ashridge Park were non-existent at the moment, and such a state of affairs would make things difficult if it persisted.
There were things that the great landlords had to co-operate in for the neighbourhood to flourish.
It would almost have been better for him to fulfil her wishes: as his mistress she would have maintained discretion.
But the idea had never had the least attraction for him.
He had to admit that, young and healthy as he was, there were times when he wanted, even needed physical release.
But since Molly, he could not do it without love.
What the body wanted, the head and heart must also agree to.
The dance ended and he returned his damp and panting partner to her group and, seeing it was what they were hoping for, saluted her with an exaggeratedly hearty kiss on the cheek, which made everyone laugh and clap.
He turned around, looking for the next victim – beg pardon, partner!
– and found himself looking across the dancing area at his sister, standing side by side with Axe Brandom.
They were not looking at each other, appeared not to be aware of each other’s presence, but he couldn’t believe anyone would not know when Brandom was standing right there.
And as he watched, he saw their lips move, in turn, and only slightly, as if – yes, as if they were talking to each other but trying to hide the fact. What on earth…?
Then the crowd around the two moved, seeming to push them together, Alice looked up at the woodsman, and he looked down at her, just for a moment. Great God, what a look! Richard felt coolness on his scalp as his hair rose in shock. What the Dickens…?
Brandom had moved away now, disappeared into the crowd, and Alice was staring ahead of her at the empty air as if turned to stone.
The musicians were putting down their beer mugs, ready to start up another tune.
For quickness’ sake Richard darted straight across the dance area rather than trying to work his way around, arrived in front of his sister and, as the first chords sounded, took hold of her firmly and said, ‘Come and dance with me.’
She yielded without speaking.
‘You didn’t look as though you were enjoying yourself,’ he said, as they danced.
She made a visible effort to drag herself away from her thoughts. ‘Oh – well – no-one was asking me to dance. I suppose they didn’t like to, me being Lady Alice.’
She said the words as though they were a curse.
‘Just politeness,’ he said. ‘Anyway, I’m dancing with you now, so there’s no need to look so bleak.’
‘Bleak?’
‘You look like a lost dog shivering in the snow. What’s wrong, dear? You can tell me.’
For a moment he thought she would. She glanced up at him and then away, and he thought she took a breath in preparation for speech, but she let it out again in a sigh.
He tried again. ‘When a young woman looks so sad, it’s usually unrequited love.’
‘It’s not that,’ she said, with a little emphasis that gave him to think.
Wasn’t love? Or wasn’t unrequited? If the latter…
Oh, God, the look that had passed between them!
Was his dear, sensible sister in love with one of the estate workers, as ill-chosen a passion as it could possibly be?
Not that he couldn’t see the attraction – Brandom was a handsome devil, and had, moreover, a great presence about him, the sort of quiet inner power that made animals come to his hand.
And, it seemed, young women too. Brandom was unmarried and Richard had never heard of him being involved with any girl.
He lived hermit-like in that cottage up in Motte Woods, and there was not so much as a hint that he was sparking any of the village girls, or ever had.
Worse and worse! Wasn’t unrequited? What the devil was he to do?
‘I thought, when I saw you looking sad, that it was someone in London,’ he began.
She answered the next question but one. ‘There’s nothing to be done. I know that.’
He squeezed her hand and they danced in silence.
But did she? He knew what it was to love in the wrong place, and he knew that if Molly had allowed him to, he would have thrown caution and everything else to the winds to have her.
Molly had removed herself from the scene, and that was the only thing that could have stopped him.
In this case, Alice could not remove herself; and to be fair, Brandom would have difficulty in removing himself too. Richard sighed inwardly. Much as he didn’t want to, he thought he might have to intervene.
Rachel had been afraid of her mother all her life.
Now she was about to remove herself from her influence, finally and completely.
Even though there was one corner of her mind that still feared Mama could spoil everything, she wanted to stand up to her, and have the satisfaction of seeing her bested.
She did quake, her knees did knock, when Mama first turned her basilisk stare on her in the hall when they arrived, but after a long look, all the dowager said was, ‘Is that your rose-fawn shantung? I suppose it is good enough for travelling. I hope you have brought something suitable for the wedding,’ before turning her attention elsewhere.
Rachel felt relief, then disappointment. She had braced herself for combat, only to have it denied. But Linda was demanding her attention, wanting Rachel to admire the ring Cousin Pippi had given her to mark their betrothal.