CHAPTER FIVE #4
Then he dropped a light kiss on her fingers, released her and walked quickly away down the gallery. Rosina gazed after him, aware of a tingle at her fingers where his lips had pressed. She stayed thus for a long moment, thinking. Then she gave a determined nod, and went in search of Mrs Fawley.
Raith spent the day battling with his memories.
His agent, Longridge, led him to Ratley, one of the villages on his estate a couple of miles away, where he lunched in the local inn, in a deliberate move to show himself.
He then visited each of the farms and cottages in turn, as he was doing in all areas, day by day, meeting every tenant and listening to their grievances.
They were many, increasing as word spread of his activities, and more took courage to come out with the list of wrongs.
His brother Piers had been the worst of landlords, squeezing from the estate every penny that he could, and putting nothing back. Raith made no attempt to defend him, and accepted instead the words he heard time and time again.
“T’weren’t like this in your father’s time, me lord.”
“I am aware of it, my friend,” he told them. “I hope to mend matters in time, but you must have patience. It cannot be done all in a minute. Now, what is it you need? Longridge will take down a list, and we will do our best to accommodate you by and by.”
The time he had to spend with each one was lengthening, the more so today, for the news of his marriage had got about.
He was obliged to accept felicitations and answer questions about his lady, an exercise which added a new dimension to the drift of thoughts at the back of his mind as he listened with spurious attention to what were more or less the self-same complaints from end to end of his domain.
Hearing of the deprivations that had attended the tenure of his half-brother served to increase the bitterness. If Piers had deliberately chosen this way of revenge, he could not have done it more thoroughly. Their father must be turning in his grave.
But the remembrances evoked by thinking of Piers led him instantly to visions of Rosina’s delicate face.
He had inflicted that bitterness on one who least deserved it.
Yet she had generosity enough to forgive him, to understand.
Yet he, ungrateful dog that he was, did not want her understanding.
What he wanted, she was unable to give him, small blame to her.
What woman could? Which led him directly back to Piers.
It was a churning, useless circle that well-nigh exhausted him. It must have shown. They were not finished at Ratley, but his agent called a halt.
“My lord, you look fagged to death. Besides, it will be growing dark soon. There is no point in attempting to complete the task here today. We can return tomorrow, if you will.”
Raith had nodded wearily, glad enough to fall in with this scheme.
They rode back to Ratley Grange together, where he parted from his agent and then cantered back to the manor grounds.
By the time he had left his horse at the stables, it made sense to change for dinner.
He was early enough to call for a bath that he might wash the accumulated dirt from his person.
He dressed casually in deference to his wife’s meagre wardrobe, in a coat of snuff-coloured cloth, with matching breeches, and a bronze satin waistcoat. By the time he started down to the saloon, he found himself to be in a fever of impatience to see Rosina again. She was before him, waiting.
“Good evening, my lord,” she said, with a smile.
Raith was taken aback. He replied in kind, watching her warily. Was this submissive friendliness her notion of disporting herself as a dutiful wife? Her countenance was as enchanting as ever, but his suspicion increased when he saw that she had made an alteration in her dress.
She had put off the gown of blue stuff that she was wearing earlier in the day, and had instead donned a gown of chintz.
It was of a pale pink which little suited her, and from the way it fitted looked as if it had been made for a larger lady and altered down.
It was, moreover, as old-fashioned as the rest, Raith realised with a rise of annoyance.
He knew little of female costume, but he could tell that much.
Where in thunder was Ottery with his funds so that he might alter that?
That she had worn it at all, however, was a gesture that betokened a change in her attitude towards him.
He watched her rise from the chair and come to his side — the left side. She had noticed, then. Why would she not? She was intelligent enough.
“Shall we go in, my lord?”
“As you wish.” He offered his arm, and led her through into the dining room.
Kirkham was holding the door, his face wooden. Raith took this in vaguely, ushered Rosina before him and walked in after her. He stopped short, staring.
The table had been reduced by at least half.
A single candelabrum was placed to one end, lighting where two places had been set.
One was his usual position, at the head of the table.
The second place, obviously for Rosina, was set directly to its right.
She would be seated so that she must spend the meal looking at his scar.