“I believe your cousin loves you simply because you are her cousin,” Christopher said. “And my feelings aremerely ones of relief that you have been rescued from theclutches of an out-and-out bounder. You need not fearrecriminations from either of us, I think, Miss Shaw.”
“But I deserve to be despised!” Harriet said vehemently and quite unexpectedly. “It was a stupid thing to do. Ionly did it because Maude tried to separate us. I had noteven thought seriously of marrying Mr. Bartlett beforethat. But I could not let her think that I would give inmeekly to her bidding. I really am too stubborn for myown good.”
Neither of her companions said anything to contradict this opinion of herself that Harriet had given. She lookeddown at her hands for the remainder of the journey homeand said no more until Christopher drew the horses to ahalt outside the main doors of the house.
“I do hope Papa felt better once he saw Maude,” she said.
But when they went inside, a poker-faced butler directed them to the drawing room, where they found Maude andPhilip standing at opposite sides of the empty fireplace.Maude, her face deathly pale, came hurrying across theroom when they entered, her hands outstretched to Harriet.
“My dear,” she said, “it was much worse than we could have imagined. He is gone, Harriet.” Her eyes,fixed on her stepdaughter’s, were dazed.
“What?” Harriet said on a gasp. “Papa is—dead? No, he cannot be. I won’t believe it. I must go to him now.”
“No,” Maude said, catching Harriet by the shoulders as she turned. “We shall both see him afterward, Harriet.But not just yet. He is gone, dear. Your papa is dead. Hehad a heart seizure.”
And Maude pulled the stunned girl into her arms.
Rebecca had not moved. She still stood just inside the door. She looked across the room to Philip, whose eyeswere fixed on Maude and Harriet, and back to the doorwayto Christopher, whose hand was still on the handle of thedoor.
It was Christopher who strode across to her, put a firm arm around her shoulders, and led her to a chair beforecrossing the room and pouring them all a drink of brandyfrom the decanter that was always kept on a sideboardthere.
Chapter 16
Maude, Harriet, and Rebecca were sitting in the garden. Each was wearing deep mourning, black shawls in placeover black dresses. Early autumn was already in the air.
“It is all my fault,” Harriet said, staring listlessly ahead of her. “Papa would never have died had I not insisted ongoing to Cenross Castle for my birthday. No one elsewanted to go, but I would insist. And he had to climb allthat way up the hill and sit in a windy courtyard for a fullafternoon. And then I scared him by going down to thoseinfernal dungeons and hurting my ankle. I had no idea thathis heart could not stand the strain. Oh, I am so selfish! Ikilled Papa.”
“Nonsense, Harriet,” Rebecca said. “Of course you did not kill him. Your papa was an adult. He could choosefor himself where he wanted to go and where not. Andwhat was more natural than that a young girl whose birthday falls in August should want to go on an outing for theoccasion? You must stop blaming yourself. Grief is hardenough to cope with without that.”
“Yes, dear,” Maude said, “Rebecca is quite right. You are in no way to blame. Your papa was afraid of fresh airand exercise. If he had taken his normal share of boththrough the years, I am sure his heart would not haveweakened as it did.”
“I would not even have been here on the night he diedif it had not been for Mr. Carver,” Harriet said drearily, “I am the most selfish, thoughtless creature in the world.”
“I think perhaps we should take a short walk, Harriet,” Rebecca said, getting decisively to her feet. “There isnothing like exercise to calm the mind.” She turned toMaude. “Mr. Carver was the one who brought Mr. Sinclair along in time to drive us home from the village thatnight,” she explained.
No one had told Maude of the failed elopement plan. She had had enough to cope with in the week that hadelapsed since the death of her husband, receiving calls andpreparing for the funeral two days before. Everyone whoknew avoided the subject of her brother and left her toassume that Mr. Bartlett had decided to return to Londonthe night of the fair instead of waiting until the next day.Indeed, Rebecca guessed that she was secretly relievedthat her brother had not delayed. Had he done so, he mighthave used Lord Holmes’s death as an excuse to stay awhilelonger.
Harriet rose listlessly and obediently to her feet. She had been unusually docile in the past week. She and Rebeccastrolled together along the winding driveway toward thegate.
“Harriet,” Rebecca said when they were out of earshot of the garden, “please do not let Maude know what happened on the night of the fair. It would be very upsettingto her to know that about her brother.”
“I think she already knows what he is like,” Harriet said, “or she would not have gone to such lengths to warnme off. I have been such a fool, Rebecca. I did not evenparticularly like the man. I certainly did not wish to marryhim. But I always have to assert my independence. I feelgreatly mortified to think that several people had to become involved in order to rescue me. But I must admit thatI am glad I was stopped. I would be married to him bynow. And Mr. Carver has told me terrible things abouthim since that night.”
“Well, it is all over,” Rebecca said, “and I think it isbest forgotten. You have learned a lesson from it, Harriet, and that is the important thing.”
‘‘He wants to marry me,” Harriet said suddenly, a hint of the old spirit showing through the indignation in hervoice.
“Who wants to marry you?” Rebecca asked, her stomach lurching uncomfortably.
“Mr. Carver,” Harriet said. “Can you imagine, Rebecca? He wants to marry me. The nerve of the man!”
“He has asked you?” Rebecca asked incredulously.
“Yesterday, when he walked over here with Ellen and Primrose,” Harriet said. “He did not exactly ask me, buthe did say that with Papa gone I should need someone tolook after me, someone who would not be afraid to tell mea few home truths. And someone to give me a goodthrashing once in a while. Horrid man!” Her voice quivered with indignation.
Rebecca had a hard time keeping her face straight and her voice steady. “How do you know he was talking abouthimself?” she asked.
“Because I asked him!” Harriet said. “And he said that he would be committing himself to a life sentence if hetook on the task, but he might be persuaded to do it. Ireally could have thrown something at him, Rebecca, and Iwould too, but the only thing to hand was that Wedgwoodvase that Maude sets such store by. And I really did notthink he was worth a Wedgwood vase and Maude’s tears.”
