Chapter Nine #2
However, it seemed Sir Julian was as curious about his new neighbor as the girls had been. He rose to his feet. “Then with no more ado, let us go, Lady Madeley.” And he held out his arm for her to take.
She widened her eyes to him. “Did you not arrive on horseback, Sir Julian? Your horse must be waiting patiently for your return. We, on the other hand, are walking up to the Hall as it is close.”
Miranda might be someone who found it hard to be anything but nice to people, but that didn’t mean she didn’t think things that weren’t always nice.
She just didn’t put them into words. And right now she was thinking that the last thing she wanted to do was take the arm of a man she didn’t much like.
A man who made her skin crawl, in fact, and even frightened her a little.
“My horse?” He appeared to have forgotten how he’d arrived here.
“Oh, of course.” His brow furrowed as he must be scurrying for an answer to this problem.
“Why, I’ll lead him over with you while we walk.
That should be just the ticket.” And he gave his arm a little jerk as though wishing to encourage her to take it.
She didn’t.
“I’ll just fetch Melissa and find us both shawls, as the weather can be so changeable in September, and then we’ll be ready to go.
” Before he had any chance to suggest anything else, she hurried into the kitchen where she found all three girls in a gaggle around the table with Betsey.
All four of them had suspiciously guilty expressions on their faces, as though she’d surprised them in some mischief.
She’d have to leave dealing with that until later.
For a moment she wondered if other mothers had as many problems with their daughters as she did, then dismissed the thought for now.
She had other things to worry about, not least having to accompany Sir Julian all the way to the Hall.
She picked up their shawls from where they hung near the hearth.
“Come along, Lissy. Sir Julian has very kindly offered to escort us to the Hall, as he too would like to call on Cousin Henry. Do up your bonnet and put this shawl around your shoulders.” She couldn’t resist tweaking Melissa’s curls and smoothing her fichu. “You look pretty as a picture.”
For the first time she noticed that Mims’ and Megs’ faces possessed expressions of horror.
No time to tell them off now or Sir Julian would be following her into the kitchen.
She’d have to have words with them later.
Really, their behavior since Geoffrey died left a lot to be desired.
Not that he’d ever been the sort of father to bother much with disciplining them, but clearly his presence in the background had been enough to keep them subdued.
Even though she was aware her daughters had a healthy and not unreasonable dislike for Sir Julian, she would have been surprised to know the reason for their horror this time.
“I’m leaving Betsey in charge of you,” was all she could think of to say. “So behave yourselves in my absence. Come along now, Lissy.” And she took Lissy by the arm and ushered her into the parlor.
Sir Julian, who seemed to fill any room he was in, turned to face them, a smile on his face that anyone less forgiving might describe as a leer. “Miss Madeley.” He bowed to Lissy. “How charming you look, and so like your mother.”
Lissy lowered her eyes and curtsied, for once not her outspoken self. Thank goodness. Raising one’s children to think for themselves had its drawbacks.
“I’ll just untie my horse from the gate and we can be off,” her unwanted escort said, and hurried to do just that.
As soon as he’d gone outside, Lissy leaned towards Miranda. “Do we have to? With him? Whatever will Cousin Henry think?”
Miranda took her daughter’s arm. “Yes, we do. It would be rude to refuse. And for all we know Cousin Henry will like him. It’s not for us to judge. Come along.” Although surely Cousin Henry would have the common sense to see through Sir Julian.
His having to lead his horse rather scuppered his wish for her to hold his arm, thank goodness.
Miranda kept her arm linked with Melissa and they set off along the lane to walk the short mile to the manor, Sir Julian to one side with his big black hunter, and Miranda and Melissa trying to walk as far away from him as possible and failing.
Miranda took a sideways look at Lissy. She’d chosen a simple pale blue gown with a demure lace fichu for her, with just a black armband to indicate her mourning.
This was something they’d moved on to after three months in full black.
Black gowns, she’d declared, at the end of the three months, were for old people and far too dreary for girls their age to have to wear for any longer.
What a good thing she’d done so as black was inclined to wash out the color in any girl’s face.
She’d spent some time arranging her daughter’s honey blonde hair to leave just a few stray curls escaping onto her slender shoulders, nicely framed by her straw bonnet.
And she would have liked the opportunity to admire her own work had Sir Julian not commanded her attention with inconsequential talk that she had to smile and nod to and pretend interest in.
Her own gown, by contrast, was a much more staid dove gray, most befitting of a matron and widow.
Lissy had unaccountably made a last-ditch attempt to persuade her into one of the prettier sprigged muslins hanging in her wardrobe, but Miranda had resisted, a little confused by her daughter’s behavior.
It would not at all have been proper to have gone out looking as though she considered her late husband’s death was inconsequential.
And the wearing of plain unadorned grey made her feel a little armored against the attentions of gentlemen like Sir Julian.
Sir Julian matched his and his horse’s pace to Miranda and Lissy’s, regaling them with all the details of his recent trip down to London and whom he’d met, all of them names that meant nothing to Miranda.
And she was sure Lissy wasn’t even listening.
At a break in his monologue, she managed to insert a question.
“Tell me, Sir Julian, how it is that you knew to call at Rampton Farm today? We’ve been there only a day ourselves. ”
He smiled down at her out of his pale, slightly manic, eyes.
Possibly the fact that he had pale ginger eyelashes added to his oddly colorless appearance, as though his mother had left him in the wash too long and he’d been bleached.
Even his carroty hair was looking faded in the sunshine.
“Word travels quickly here, Lady Madeley. I think everyone of importance knows that you have moved out of the Hall and that you and your daughters are now in residence at Rampton. I was most eager to call upon you as you are now a whole mile closer to my house. Which makes us even nearer neighbors.” He licked his already too-moist lips.
“And as I said earlier, I also wanted to enquire if there might be any assistance I could render. And I wanted to invite you to dinner at Thornby next week, as well.”
Oh no. The last thing she wanted was to have to go to his house to dine.
Why did she always have the uncomfortable feeling he could see through her dress, and probably her underwear as well, and knew what she looked like naked?
This horrible thought, familiar as it was, made her suppress another shiver.
He’d been careful when Geoffrey was alive to keep his longing looks under control, but now it seemed he felt he didn’t need to.
The solid barrier that had been Geoffrey was gone.
She smiled sweetly again. “How very kind of you to offer, but I can assure you, we have no need of any assistance, and at present we’re not going out, as we’re still in mourning for my husband.
But thank you for the kind invitation. Perhaps in a few months.
We’re quite well here, as you must have seen.
The farmhouse is most comfortable. Smaller than we’re used to, but that has the advantage of making it easier to manage. ”
He seemed to take her refusal in his stride and instead raised one eyebrow suggestively.
“Come now, Lady Madeley. A woman alone with three young daughters? And I gather just one rather elderly maid to look after you. I cannot in all conscience agree with you when you say you are managing. I worry about how safe you are with no gentleman to take care of you. Not even a yard hand on the place.”
He seemed to know an awful lot about her situation. The feeling that he was the sort of person she needed to fear arose.
“I have my husband’s pistols,” she said, with some asperity.
“So you need have no fears for our safety. I am judged quite adept with a pistol. My own papa, God rest his soul, was quite forward thinking in teaching me to shoot. He described me as a crack shot.” Just as her girls were.
She softened this rather bald statement with a sweet smile.
“I’m more than capable of keeping us all safe at Rampton.
” She wasn’t about to tell him the guns were all, except the pistols, locked up at Windrush though.
Perhaps she ought to at least get the pistols out and keep a loaded one beside her bed.
He gave her a condescending smile, but his eyes showed unmistakeable desire that made her insides curl with horror. “How refreshing it is to encounter a lady with such spirit, my dear Lady Madeley.”
Oh dear, she was not enjoying this walk now.
She’d had it all planned out. A gentle stroll during which she could gently coax Lissy into her way of thinking.
A quiet meeting with Cousin Henry, and perhaps an engineered walk about the gardens for him and Lissy to get to know one another while she rested her supposedly weary head in the parlor with a cold compress for her forehead.
It did not look as though her visit was going to work out to plan.
At last, the house came into view, the gates invitingly wide open, just as they’d always been when Geoffrey was alive. How strange that it should look exactly as it always had and yet feel so different just because it was no longer theirs.
She glanced at Sir Julian. He was going to have to do something with his horse, which might give her a head start with Cousin Henry.
Unfortunately she was foiled in this as well, for young Archie Miller appeared around the corner of the house and, after bowing to her and Melissa, which brought hot color to his cheeks, took Sir Julian’s horse for him.
Drat it.
She was about to knock on the door of what had once been her own house when it swung open to reveal Crawford, looking flustered.
Probably because of the company she was in, and also that he was having to welcome her back into what he undoubtedly saw as being still her property.
His cheeks were flushed and his hair ruffled, as though he’d recently run his fingers through it.
Not at all the unflappable butler she was used to.
He bowed. “Lady Madeley, Miss Madeley, Sir Julian, good day to you. Sir Henry is in the library.” He seemed at a loss as to whether to invite them in or let them do it themselves.
Poor Crawford. This must be so difficult for him.
He’d already been butler at the Hall nineteen years ago when she’d arrived there as a young bride, and she saw him as a fixture in her life.
A longing to call on him and the other servants instead of their new master, preferably in the kitchen, arose, but had to be brushed aside.
Sir Julian had no qualms about inviting himself in, though. Now he was free of his horse, he seized her other arm and swept past Crawford and into the wide hallway, Lissy dragged in their wake on reluctant feet.
This was definitely not going to go to plan.