Chapter Thirty
As she arrangedthe shawl collar on her new morning gown of white muslin with pale blue dots, and tied the frilled cuffs, Jenny gazed out the window of her bedchamber. Her view took in the stables, and part of the carriageway where it emerged from the park, bordered by the fringe of home wood. She gasped when Bella hurried into sight. Carrying a portmanteau, she ran across the lawn and crossed the carriageway. A moment later, she disappeared into the trees.
Jenny’s heart sank. She quickly finished dressing and left her bedchamber. Ten minutes later, she hurried across the lawns after her sister. Where was Bella off to? Had she left them without a word? Jenny refused to believe her sister would do such a thing. They had always been close; why keep this from her?
She reached the trees, and holding up her skirts, dashed along the bridle path. Voices reached her. When Jenny emerged into a small glade, Bella stood with Glyn, their handsome brown-eyed neighbor from Yorkshire, his arms around her.
Over Bella’s head, Glyn met Jenny’s angry gaze with a look of dismay.
Bella swung around.
“You are eloping,” Jenny cried. “You would leave the day before my wedding? Without a word? Don’t you trust me, Bella?”
Bella left Glyn and ran to her. “No, that’s not how it is, Jenny! We plan to go tomorrow after the wedding. I didn’t want to upset you before then. I’m just here to give Glyn my bag.”
“Are you sure this is the right thing to do, Bella?” Jenny asked, fearing for her sister.
“Yes, we…”
Loud voices erupted from the direction of the carriageway. Bella turned to Glyn. “You must go!”
His face set, Glyn shook his head. “I won’t leave you, my love.”
Moments later, Charlie, Edmond and William appeared.
Charlie hurried up to them. “What has happened? We saw you from the stable yard.”
“It’s not important, Charlie,” Bella said impatiently, “I just wanted to talk to Glyn.”
“But you have a portmanteau with you,” Edmond observed. “Are you going away with Glyn, Bella?”
“She is not,” came an angry voice. They all spun around as Papa emerged into a shaft of sunlight.
“Papa…” Bella took two steps toward him. “It’s not Glyn’s fault. I had to see him.”
Glyn gently moved her aside. “Milord, we wish to marry, and because you refuse, we plan to elope.”
“Arabella has not come of age. I could have you thrown into jail.”
“Oh, Papa, you wouldn’t,” Jenny said. “You must understand their feelings. You were in love once.”
He blinked at her. “Once? Once?I will always love your mother, girl, and don’t you forget it! But we did things in the proper manner.”
While he stood scowling at them, Bella returned to stand by Glyn. She held his arm. “You won’t stop us, Papa.”
He shook his head. “I certainly could if I chose to, Bella. Come to the house, Glyn. We need to talk.”
Astonished, Jenny gazed at her sister, then they followed their father through the trees, the boys running ahead.
An hour later, when Andrew joined them in the salon for tea, the matter had been settled. Bella and Glyn would marry next year, on her eighteenth birthday. Glyn was to stay at Castlebridge for the wedding and then return home to tell his parents the news. Bella was floating on air.
Jenny couldn’t wait to tell Andrew. It seemed as if Castlebridge had wrought some magic. Something of great importance had happened to her family. But it was ultimately Andrew who brought it about. The miraculous change in her father could only be put down to his improved finances, and the heavy burden removed from his shoulders. Papa accepted that Bella would soon be gone, and Beth would remain here with her. He also gave them details of his plan to employ more staff and improve the lot of his tenants, so the estate would be in a sound position when it came time for Jarred to inherit. In the meantime, Jarred would return home during the long university holidays to learn the many things he would need to know.
That evening, Bella preferred to dine with Glyn, Jarred, Beth, and the boys, while the guests ate in the dining room, an elegant room with walls painted pale green with scrolling vines, and the floor covered in a patterned Axminster carpet. A chandelier sent down dancing lights from the high ceiling, the long table covered in starched white linen and laid with sparkling crystal, porcelain, and silverware and flowers. A merry fire crackled in the marble fireplace, footmen and the butler standing ready to serve them.
Jenny’s father appeared to enjoy the company of the amusing guests, which he had long denied himself. Jenny finally met the Marquess of Strathairn and his beautiful dark-haired wife, Sibella, who had the most beautiful emerald green eyes Jenny had ever seen. What a delightful couple they were. The big, fair-haired man exuded a calm strength. Jenny was so grateful to him for saving her life, but he swept away her attempts to thank him. Aunt Leonora and Lady Augusta seemed to get on famously. The French Baron was warm and charming, his wife, Hetty, a vivacious red-head, had invited Jenny to one of her poetry readings in London. The Montsimon’s quite obviously still very much in love.
Then the covers were brought in, bringing delicious aromas to blend with the scents of beeswax and the floral arrangements placed about the room, and Andrew caught and held her gaze from where he sat at the head of the table, flanked by the two older ladies. Jenny had worn her new evening gown of light green silk with alternating bands of satin and taffeta, cut in a low square at the neck with a tight bodice, and her diamonds. When Andrew’s eyes conveyed his impatience to be with her, Jenny lost the thread of her conversation with the vicar who expressed how delighted he was to be marrying them in the Castlebridge chapel, which had always been a wish of his.
