He wanted to be logical, even as his heart tried to dictate to him. How could a woman who had never been courted by a man, was thinking herself almost beyond marriage, see that she could be cherished above a patent beauty? It was her lack of self-belief that had made her think him false, and if her heart had not been touched, then she would not have been as angry and upset. He wondered, for a moment, if he ought to simply make his declaration immediately. She could be in no doubt then of his feelings. Since he was still rather mystified by the female way of seeing things, however, it was possible that she would be too surprised to say yes, would make up reasons in her head why she ought to refuse him, even if her heart was eager.
‘One step at a time, Rowland Kempsey, one step at a time. First, we return to the easy friendship, and from that work to convincing her of the strength and durability of my love for her.’
It was easy enough to say, and far more difficult to put into effect. He was not aided by the following morning bringing a cloudburst in which only a madman would venture out of doors, and the heavy, black clouds were echoed by his frown. He paced about the house like a beast caged, and was uncharacteristically curt with a270maid who, seeing his scowl, did not so much walk past him as press herself against the wall and pretend she was invisible. He told her not to be foolish, for he was no ogre, yet did so in a manner more like one than she had ever encountered before. Mrs Peplow and Cook had to give her a strong talking to, and a cup of tea to calm her.
Thankfully for the peace of mind of master and servants, the afternoon saw the skies lighten, and if it was not a fine day then at least it was now dry. Sir Rowland decided to ride across the park, which felt in some way less informal than walking over to the dower house, and when Atlow opened the door to him he requested that his horse be stabled and asked to speak with Miss Lound, privately, upon a matter of importance. He looked almost stern, and Atlow, who was rather shocked that he should request to see the daughter of the house alone, told himself that it was some matter concerning the estate, and certainly not ‘personal’. He therefore showed Sir Rowland into the book room, where Sir Robert and the Lady Elizabeth looked down upon him, rather censoriously, he felt.
It was some minutes before Miss Lound entered, and he did not know the indecision that had delayed her. She had swung from being firm that she would not speak with him, and the next moment determined that she must face him. Atlow had watched her in some consternation, since this was far from her normal behaviour. When she did step over the threshold she was composed enough, her chin a little raised, her271lips compressed. She looked unapproachable, but Sir Rowland was not put off.
‘You wished to see me, Sir Rowland, about something important?’ Her tone implied the wishing was all on his side.
‘Yes, Miss Lound, I do.’ He faced her squarely, and his face wore a serious expression. ‘I shall not beat about the bush. The situation that has arisen between us is intolerable. We are the nearest of neighbours, and I take the liberty to say we have been on friendly terms, and I value that friendship highly, very highly. However, this last week there has been a chasm between us, one not of my desiring and, I hope – believe – not of yours either, one that developed from a … misunderstanding. I have not come to apologise, nor do I seek any form of apology, for it was something that simply “happened”, and the breach occurred before either of us could prevent it. There is no blame attached. What I ask, most earnestly, is that we consign this breach to oblivion, as though it had never arisen. Would you be so gracious as to do that, Miss Lound?’
She stared at him in silence for what he felt was an age, but he did not know how fast her heart was beating, nor how she was struggling to untangle the thoughts in her head. It was a solution, and leaving things as they were was indeed intolerable. He was also correct in that they had been ‘upon friendly terms’ and she too liked that, but he had stressed ‘neighbours’ and ‘friends’. That was how he saw her. It was how she might have272been content to be when they first met, but now …
‘Sir Rowland, it is you who are being too generous and gracious. Once before we set aside a misunderstanding, and that was what it was. The “chasm” you speak of is of my creation. I am at fault, but have been too ashamed to admit it, even to myself for a while. I was intemperate, insufferably rude, and I would not even listen to the truths you told me.’ Her voice was steady, but the words came slowly. ‘If you would be prepared for us to being good neighbours and – friends – I would be very grateful.’
She stepped closer, her hand held out as a man would shake the hand of a friend, or another man with whom he had concluded business. He took it in a firm clasp, and his eyes did not leave her face. He held it far longer than was necessary, and her lips parted slightly, and she breathed a little faster. She could not explain the sensation that ran through her, but it was strong, positive and, dare she even think it, promissory? It was as if he had read her mind and his grip was telling her that she was wrong, and the restoration of friendship was ‘demanded’ of her, but was not all that he desired from the relationship. Even as she doubted, eye and hand asserted.
‘Thank you,’ he said, quietly, but with feeling, and then turned her hand within his and lifted it, and kissed it, his lips just brushing the skin. Only then did he let it go. There was an awkward silence, for inconsequential conversation after something of such import felt all wrong. Then Mary heard her mother’s voice outside in the passage.273
‘I agree, Sir Rowland,’ Mary said in a calm, firm voice. ‘Ah, Mama, Sir Rowland has come to enquire what have been the Christmastide customs with the tenants. Sir Rowland will be wishing to open his doors to his,’ there was a fraction of a second pause, ‘neighbours, and make a good impression.’
‘Oh yes, of course.’ Lady Damerham, alerted to Sir Rowland’s presence, had not been sure why he would wish to be closeted privately with her daughter, but this, to a mind that did not think deeply upon things, seemed a plausible reason. It would not stand up to any scrutiny, but Lady Damerham did not scrutinise.
Sir Rowland gave Mary a glance which commended her quick thinking.
‘And I must say that despite my fears, none of them – the tenants – ever ruined the carpets with muddy boots.’ Lady Damerham smiled. ‘But this is hardly being social, standing in the book room, for the fire is not even lit and we would be much better in the drawing room. Will you take a glass of wine, Sir Rowland? Did you walk through the park or ride this afternoon? I declare the weather this morning was so awful we had as many candles lit as if it were evening.’
‘Thank you, ma’am, I will, and I rode.’ He smiled at her, and then looked at Mary, whose heart thumped. Was it her imagination, or did the smile change, just a little bit? Sometimes she found her mama’s conversations irritating, but this afternoon she was profoundly grateful, for she needed time to regain her274equilibrium. She had swung from misery to a mixture of excitement, joy and a strange frisson that left her dizzy. She was glad to sit in the drawing room, her hands folded in her lap, apparently serene, as she attempted to regain her inner balance. Wine was brought for Sir Rowland, Lady Damerham’s mind flitted from topic to topic, and eventually she paused. Sir Rowland turned slightly.
‘Miss Lound, I have a question, and I wonder if you could furnish the answer?’
‘I will attempt to do so, sir.’
‘You told me about the portrait of Valentyne Lound being described in a letter from Sir Robert to his son. I remembered when I was awaiting you in the book room and was studying the image of Sir Robert. Did you yourself read that letter? If you were rather young, I wonder if you took all that could be gleaned from it. I have been thinking about your Tudor ancestor and wonder if I might see the letter for myself, if you possess it?’
‘Oh! I do not! How odd that I should have forgotten. Sir Rowland, the letter is in the house.’
‘It is? You are sure, forgive me, that it was not thrown away by the previous Lord Cradley or even your brother?’
‘No, no, it could not have been, because Edmund never knew the secret.’
‘A secret? You intrigue me.’
‘It was Grandpapa who showed me the letter. Edmund and James were away at school. I had been275asking about Valentyne, because Grandpapa told wonderful stories about him, no doubt altered for a child’s ears and expectations. He took me to the library, and showed me the secret compartment by the chimney breast. It was constructed upon the command of the first Lord Damerham, when he had the west wing built. Grandpapa said to me that his papa had grown up in a time of uncertainty, even for kings, and believed that it was wise to always have a place where one’s enemies would not find documents that were either important or indeed incriminating if the order of things was overthrown. I think Grandpapa admired his sire’s forethought. By the time Grandpapa showed me the place, such things were in the past. Nobody would seek to steal such a thing as an old family letter, but I think he liked the idea that it was where a Lound had placed his treasures.’
‘Goodness me, you never told me of this, Mary!’ exclaimed Lady Damerham, clasping her hands together at her bosom. ‘Do not tell me there were priests’ holes and secret passages and …’ She shuddered.
‘No, Mama, not that I ever heard of, at least, and do not forget this is in the west wing, built after such things. All Sir James desired was a safe place for documents and treasures, not a place to hide himself or others.’
‘Do you recall the exact location of this “hiding place for treasures”, Miss Lound?’ Sir Rowland was interested, but also saw that this was another opportunity to spend time with her.276
‘Yes, pretty well, although I could not say behind one particular panel. I know it was on the right side of the chimney breast, and into the chimney breast itself, not the wall adjacent.’
‘But you would remember if you saw it, looked for it?’
‘I am sure I would.’
