22 Departures And Arrivals #2
“You do not need to,” he said easily. “You cannot be happy in such a precarious situation — a gardener, for heaven’s sake!
He is not worthy of you, dear lady. I shall rescue you from your calamitous difficulty by making you a marchioness, so let us have no more nonsense about this.
You will be happy to hear that I have Brinshire’s approval for this, in fact, it was his idea that I seek you out, and by happy chance my foolish son’s amours brought me to your door even sooner than expected. ”
“The Duke of Brinshire suggested this?” Cora said, stupefied. “For heaven’s sake, why?”
“He regrets your present unorthodox arrangements, and knowing my situation, my late wife having departed this life two years ago, he suggested that you would make an ideal replacement for her.”
“An ideal—? But why?” Cora was having trouble speaking. This was so bizarre, she could scarcely believe it.
“Oh, because… well…” For the first time, he looked less than comfortable.
“My wife was rather a cold fish, you see, and I wanted to find someone more… more lively, shall we say. Given your present position, it is clear that you would meet that requirement. I must say, your public demeanour is perfect — always so demure, busy with your embroidery, no one would take you for a woman of passion. Yet look how contented the gardener is, and now you may put the same smile on my face, and be a marchioness and ride high in society at the same time. It is all most satisfactory. I shall collect you directly after breakfast tomorrow, so be packed and ready to depart by—”
“No!” Cora said firmly, finally finding her voice, despite the rage boiling up inside her. “There is no question of it, and if you have nothing sensible to say, I should be grateful if you would leave this house at once.”
“No question of it? When you have been every moment encouraging me to think—”
“I did no such thing, and you are deluded, sir, if you imagine encouragement in what is no more than civility due to any visitor. I did not ask—”
“Civility?”
“—you to come here and monopolise my attention, did I? I am barely out of bed each morning but I find you on the doorstep, and here you stay all day, as if you were a part of the family and not a stranger to me.”
“Stranger?” His voice was becoming fainter, the arrogance wiped from his face.
“Yes, a stranger, sir! Do you not know the rules of proper behaviour? Do you suppose that because fate has bestowed high rank upon you that you can do as you please without regard for others? Did it ever cross your selfish mind that I have long been wishing you at Jericho? Or anywhere but my parlour.”
“Well!” he cried, jumping to his feet, although he should have stood the moment Cora left her seat. Another breach of etiquette to add to the pile already accumulated.
He paced twice across the room, although whether to cool his temper or to find suitable words Cora could not tell.
“Well! So this is all the gratitude I receive for my attentions towards you. I pay you a great compliment, as you must surely acknowledge, in singling you out in this way, yet very far from expressing any sense of obligation or awareness of the honour I bestow upon you, you shriek at me like a termagant. It is intolerable, madam! Intolerable, I say!”
“On that we are agreed,” Cora said. “Quite intolerable. Shall I open the door for you?”
Without waiting for an answer, she crossed the room and hauled open the door, as Timmy and Meg, who had been eavesdropping, scuttled away.
And that was the point when the marquess finally ran out of words. Picking up his hat and gloves from a side table, he stalked with what dignity he could muster into the hall, where Timmy already held the front door open for him. He was halfway out when he stopped, turned and re-entered the hall.
“My cane,” he muttered, shame-faced.
After a brief search, Meg thrust it into his hands, and this time he made good his exit.
It was a long time before Cora’s wrath abated and she could see the funny side of the whole affair.
“You must admit, it’s very flattering,” Cal said, when he returned from the village later and heard all about it. “I’d have stayed a bit closer if I’d known he was trying to seduce you away from me. And you’ve put a smile on my face, he’s right about that.”
“But to imagine I could transfer my affections in a moment, as if the man is immaterial!”
“Aye, that’s not very complimentary, is it?”
“I cannot see what he is thinking, to be offering marriage to someone like me,” she said. “I can hardly be considered a proper wife for a peer of the realm. A marchioness should be presented at court — can you imagine the uproar! He must be mad, I think.”
“I can’t quite agree with you there,” Cal said, with a wry smile. “Wanting to marry you is a perfectly natural state for any man to find himself in, it seems to me. Nothing mad about it.”
She blushed and smiled and allowed herself to be gently kissed on forehead and cheeks and ears and finally on her willing lips.
***
Two days later, Cora was sitting outside on a kitchen chair enjoying the relief of no marquess, while Cal worked on improving the bench. They heard the dogs barking first.
“Lots of dust down by the bridge,” Cal said, straining to see through the trees. “Something’s coming through.”
“The duke is expected soon, according to Timmy,” Cora said.
“That will be what it is. Look, everyone from the Dog and Duck has come out to watch.”
“What should we do?” Cora said.
“Nothing, except make our obeisance as they pass by.”
Soon, the first outriders appeared, followed by the duke’s own carriage.
Cora curtsied, although she doubted that the duke would see her.
Beside her, Cal removed his hat and bowed.
When Cora rose from her curtsy, there was a small face at the carriage window, peering directly at her, but even as she watched, a hand from further inside the carriage drew a curtain across the window.
The face was gone. The carriage swayed past their gate and on towards Staineybank.
“Who was that?” Cal said.
“Lily,” Cora said, taking up her needlework again and sitting down on the chair.
Behind the ducal carriage was a long train of lesser carriages and luggage wagons, accompanied by a rag-tag group of children running alongside, with the village dogs barking and racing hither and thither.
Within moments the whole train had rounded the bend in the road and gone out of sight, only the slowly settling clouds of dust left behind to tell of its passage.
Not two hours later, when Cal, aproned and with sleeves rolled up, had begun preparations for their dinner and Cora was sitting at the kitchen table admiring his forearms as she drank her tea, Timmy came racing in from the wood store.
“Duke’s carriage,” he gasped. “Stopping.”
“Here?” Cora said, astonished. “Someone from Staineybank?”
“Aye!”
“Then put your coat on, Timmy, and await the knock on the door,” Cal said. He was already rolling down his shirt sleeves and removing his apron. “Meg, can you finish this pie and watch the mutton?”
“Course, sir. I seen you do it often enough.”
“Good girl.” The knock echoed through the house. “Well, Cora love, shall we go and see what this is all about?”
They entered the hall to find the duke himself divesting himself of his hat and gloves to Timmy, who was trying his very best to be a dignified manservant. Whatever Cora had expected, a visit from the duke at such a late hour was not a situation she would ever have anticipated.
“Your grace,” she murmured, dropping into a deep curtsy beside the bowing Cal. “Will you come into the parlour?”