“You cannot adjust your expectations?” he asked, still grinning.
“Alas, I cannot,” she said with a sigh. “I might forgivehim for being tall and dark, but... No, Bert, it seems that I have become stuck in my ways in my old age. I must have blue eyes and a straight nose and a kindly manner.”
“Mere trivialities,” he said. “You are headed for eternal spinsterhood, Stell. Though I must confess I would not enjoy having a brother-in-law with such nonexistent conversation.”
“Oh, Bert,” she said. “Did you see hishands? They are huge. Andcallused.”
“It is what results from unraveling all those hemp ropes in jail,” he said. “But picture this, Stell. You could sit beside him on a love seat in your boudoir, rubbing a soothing salve into his hands while he entertains you with stories from his shady past. No? It does not sound like marital bliss to you? You do not think you could get more than two words at a time out of him?”
She punched him on the arm, and the gig swayed a bit drunkenly before he regained control of the ribbons. Estelle shrieked and her brother laughed.
But really,poorMaria! Exactlywhyhad he come now, when he had never come before?
Estelle and Bertrand had called upon Maria two years ago, as they had upon all their neighbors, to make her acquaintance. She had been an eighteen-year-old then, thinner and paler even than she was now, but self-possessed and mature beyond her years and devoted to her severely ailing mother, whose declining health had already confined her to her own suite of rooms though she had not yet been totally bedridden. They had never met the countess, as she had stopped receiving visitors. The neighbors described her as a beautiful woman who always hated to be seen before she had spent hours with her maid making herself look perfect.
Maria had insisted upon caring for her mother herself, though it must have been an increasingly difficult task. Shehad dismissed a number of nurses who had come from an agency because they were not tender enough with their patient and caused her more distress than comfort. Or so Maria had claimed. Estelle had often wondered if it was in fact the countess herself who had sent them away. If it was, it had been extremely selfish of her. Though it was perhaps wrong to judge someone who had been very ill, when she, Estelle, had always enjoyed good health.
Estelle had returned to Prospect Hall at least once a week after that initial visit, at first out of pity for a young neighbor who must have been getting very little pleasure out of life, but then out of genuine friendship. If Maria was upstairs, tending the invalid, as she often was, Estelle would spend half an hour talking with Melanie Vane, the governess turned companion, a sensible woman who obviously felt a deep attachment to her charge. Though no, Miss Vane had said in answer to a question Bertrand had asked one day when he had been with Estelle, she did not help at all in the sickroom. Maria preferred to do all that needed doing herself.
By which Estelle had suspected that the countess preferred it. Or demanded it. Maria had never given the slightest hint of anything but total affection for and devotion to her mother, however.
Now, at the age of twenty, released from her duties in the sickroom and the year of her mourning at an end, Maria still looked fragile and probably appeared shy to anyone who did not know her. Actually she was neither, and Estelle was very fond of her. But shewasstill a minor, and there was something not quite proper about her living without the chaperonage of someone older than Melanie, who was close to Estelle in age. If the Earl of Brandon really was her guardian, then possibly he had plans for her. Marriage,perhaps. Did he have someone specific picked out for her? She would hate it if he did.
But there was nothing Estelle could do about it.
***
The Reverend Mott and some of the more socially prominent local families called at Prospect Hall over the next week to pay their respects to the Earl of Brandon, having heard he was in residence and never having met him before. More than one of them slipped that last fact quite deliberately into conversation, it seemed to Justin, as though to reproach him for neglecting his duty—to the countess, perhaps. To his sister, probably. To them, maybe. His father had made a point of coming here once a year and staying a couple of weeks in order to inspect the property and call upon his neighbors and even entertain some of them. He had been an affable sort, Justin’s father, well liked and well respected wherever he went.
Justin accepted a couple of invitations to dine and took Maria with him. It was somewhat reassuring to discover that she had not been obliged to live here as a near hermit. There were a few genteel families with whom she could and did socialize, it seemed, though he did learn that during the final years of her mother’s illness and the year since her death she had not left the hall for anything except Sunday service at church, and not always even then.
There were very few young people of an age approximate to hers in the neighborhood. Most of the young ladies were either married or still in the schoolroom. Most of the young men were absent—at school or university or kicking their heels elsewhere—though their parents spoke fondly of them and their promising prospects. Justin had the feeling one or two of them might have been summoned homeif the parents had been given advance notice of his coming. Maria was very eligible, after all.
But it was really quite improper for her to be here all alone except for Miss Vane, who was not herself much older than her charge. He could not in all conscience allow his sister to remain here. He had known that before he came, of course, but now it was glaringly obvious. She did not even look twenty. She could pass for a girl of sixteen. She was going to have to return to Everleigh with him, whether she liked it or not.
She didnotlike it, of course.
She did not argue, however. She merely said no, though Justin suspected she knew her answer counted for nothing. She had turned from marble to... What was harder and colder than marble? Granite? Whatever it was, she had turned to it since he had told her what was about to happen. Like the tyrant his sister no doubt saw him as.
No doubt too she knew that when she left, Miss Vane would not go with her. He did consider asking the woman if she would extend her employment for one month in order to accompany Maria to Everleigh and offer her companionship through her first few weeks there. But it would be unfair to ask, he decided.
The neighborhood family most eligible to offer his sister companionship was the brother-and-sister duo. The twins. Watley’s title, Justin had learned, was a courtesy one. He had suspected as much, actually, from the fact that the man’s sister wasLadyEstelle Lamarr rather than simplyMissLamarr. Their father was the Marquess of Dorchester of Redcliffe Court in Northamptonshire. Justin had a nodding acquaintance with him from the House of Lords. Their stepmother was related in some way to the Westcott family, which boasted among its members more titles thanalmost any other noble family in England. Those twins were sociallyconnected, even if one of them did choose to behave on occasion with a quite shocking lack of ladylike decorum. And they were of a suitable age to be his sister’s friends. He would guess they were twenty-five or so. Both were single. Watley was elegant and good-looking and had the polished manners of a gentleman of superior rank. It had been impossible to discern in that one awkward meeting Justin had had with the man if he fancied Maria or if she fancied him. But it would not have been surprising. It would certainly be worth encouraging if there was some spark there. Lady Estelle was equally elegant and refined—despite the riverbank incident—with a certain liveliness of manner that must offer some of the light in darkness that Maria seemed desperately to need.
Justin would be happy to encourage acquaintances with brother and sister, but not under present circumstances. Maria should not be here alone and really ought not to have been during the past year while she mourned her mother. He ought to have insisted upon sendingsomeoneold enough to lend her countenance, though he could not for the life of him think whom. Lady Maple, perhaps? She was Maria’s great-aunt on her mother’s side, though he did not know if the two had ever met. The countess had quarreled with everyone in her family soon after she married Justin’s father. Anyway, it was too late now.
It seemed that Watley and his sister lived alone at Elm Court two or three miles away as the crow flies, farther by road.
There was no question of his leaving Maria here even though he hated the thought of taking her to Everleigh against her will and without her longtime companion. He had had an idea, however, something that might ease herreturn to Everleigh and help her settle there during the crucial first couple of weeks or so. He did not particularly fancy meeting either one of the Lamarrs again, as he was fully aware that he had not acquitted himself well when they called at Prospect Hall. He had been a bit thrown at recognizing the woman from the riverbank, if the truth were known, and by the time he had recovered from that it had been too late to greet the two of them as he ought, with a warm smile and a handshake. That failure had set the tone for the whole of the excruciatingly painful half hour or so that had followed. If someone had tied his tongue in a knot he could hardly have done worse.
Hewouldmeet them again, though—by choice. Provided they were at home, that was. He learned the direction of Elm Court from the groom in the stables and saddled up his horse one afternoon and led it outside. He decided, perhaps against his better judgment, to take Captain too, since his dog had been leveling a more than usually hangdog expression at him lately, having not had a good run since their arrival here.
He set out to call upon Viscount Watley and Lady Estelle Lamarr.
***
The grass had been newly scythed and looked neat and smelled heavenly. Then, however, the four large flower beds, which, long before Estelle was born, had been cut into the lawn with geometric precision to form four diamond shapes in a larger diamond formation, had ended up looking sadly ragged in contrast. She could have waited for the gardeners to get to them, as of course they would, but she liked doing a bit of gardening and was out here now pulling weeds and cutting deadheads from among the flowersand dropping them all into the basket she carried over her arm. And what a difference the pulling and cutting had made! The flowers in the three beds she had already done were looking considerably brighter and more fully alive again, and now this one did too. She stood back on the grass to admire her handiwork. But something caught the edge of her vision as she did so, and she looked across two large diamonds to the drive beyond.
A horse and rider were just coming into view, and for a moment she brightened with the expectation that Bertrand was returning from his visit to the vicarage in time for tea. The Reverend Mott had once been his beloved and much-revered teacher and mentor. That was in the days before their great-uncle died and their father succeeded to the marquess’s title and they all moved to Redcliffe Court—she and Bertrand, Aunt Jane and Uncle Charles, and cousins Oliver and Ellen. But not, alas, their father. It had taken another couple of years to bring him home to stay. Bertrand had gone today to discuss the Greek plays he had been reading. It all sounded as dry as dust to Estelle, but her twin had been full of eagerness in anticipation of an afternoon of interesting entertainment.
