‘Really, Mary, that is not very charitable.’ Lady Damerham shook her head.
‘Yes, but he only bought it barely a month before he died, so I am not wishing him a shorter life, not by much.’44
Sir Harry laughed and told her she was a hard-hearted piece.
‘We must be charitable,’ said Lady Damerham, with more determination than belief.
‘You can be for the both of us, Mama.’ Mary was unrepentant. ‘Do we know anything about this heir, to Tapley End I mean, not the title? Might he not just sell it on, since he has no connection with it? Or is he local enough to want to enjoy the landholding?’
‘I do not know much at all, other than his name is Kempsey, Sir Rowland Kempsey, and he comes from Cumberland.’
‘Good grief!’ Lady Damerham exclaimed and spilt a drop of coffee into her saucer. ‘Does anyone come from Cumberland?’ Both her daughter and Sir Harry looked at her with puzzled expressions. ‘What I mean is, people “go to” Cumberland, poets and those odd people who want to see more of nature, but does anyone actually live there, other than sheep and farmers?’
‘We may not even find out, if he looks at the deeds, decides it is worth a tidy sum, and promptly sells it,’ cautioned Mary.
‘Now, there you are wrong,’ corrected Harry. ‘You see, the reason I know all this is that my bailiff was passing the time of day over a pint of ale in The Stag’s Head yesterday evening, and your stewa—sorry … Wilmslow, let slip that the new owner is coming to view the property in the next week.’
‘I must ask Wilmslow if he would be so kind as45to send Joshua Pilton’s lad over to scythe the lawn next week,’ remarked Lady Damerham, diverting the conversation for a moment. There was a short pause, during which Lady Damerham contemplated the length of the grass, Mary tried to sort her thoughts, and Harry Penwood sipped his coffee, whilst watching the emotions that crossed her face. He could read her like a book.
‘We will have to leave cards, of course, to both gentlemen,’ sighed Lady Damerham, returning to the main topic.
‘Remind me when that shall be and I will have the headache,’ murmured Mary, who very rarely suffered from any such indisposition.
‘We must be civil, dearest.’
‘As a household, I suppose that is true, but I do not think I could bear them here. The one is a Risley and the other owns the roof over your head. The only difference between us and Joshua Pilton is that he pays rent for his tenancy. It is demeaning. The new landowner will look down his nose at us as “a bankrupt’s poor relations” and that will be far too close to the truth for comfort.’
‘Which one, my love?’
‘Oh, probably the both of them, Mama.’ Mary shook her head. ‘If only we had an income.’
‘We will not reveal our circumstances.’ Lady Damerham looked shocked.
‘We do not need to, Mama. The entire county knows Edmund sold up and de facto fled the country.46The new owner is bound to hear it within twenty-four hours of his arrival.’
‘Oh dear.’ The widow clasped her hands together. ‘Perhaps Harry could tell him that was all exaggerated?’ She turned to Harry Penwood, who looked cornered.
‘That, Mama, would be unfair. You cannot expect Harry to lie for us, and especially not a lie that would soon be shown up.’
‘As opposed to one that would work a treat, Mary?’ Harry cocked his head on one side and gave her a questioning look.
‘Morally, it makes no difference, of course, but in practice it does. One has to be practical.’
‘One does.’ He gave himself up to laughter, and Lady Damerham wondered at the pair of them.
Three days later, having ascertained that there were no errands for her mama that might serve as a reason to go out, Mary went for one of her walks. Lady Damerham sighed over it, for she approved of gentle walking, when about the shrubberies, or shopping, or even to church in clement weather, but her daughter walked at a meaningful pace and with no more reason than she liked the freedom. There was something about the open air that Mary Lound always found invigorating, even on a day when the wind was tugging at the leaves upon the trees, trees whose leaves were just starting to lose their verdancy and rustled as if warning each other of the perils to come. The recent rain made walking47across the fields a recipe for wet feet and disgustingly muddy hems, so Mary kept to the lanes, which were marginally better. On her way back, she took the more travelled road that led past the lodge gates to Tapley End and followed the perimeter wall to the less ornate ironwork that opened upon the short drive to the dower house. She had encountered a few of the locals whom she still felt were ‘Lound tenants’ even if the land was no longer in the family holding, and had discussed the autumn sowing with Joshua Pilton, and her husband’s bad knee with old Mrs Gedling. They were not at all surprised to see Miss Mary out and about, and it was agreed by everyone that she had more care and interest in the land than her sire or her brother, and pity it was for the estate that it had not come to her.
The hedgerows were full of twittering sparrows, and a stoat darted across the narrow verge in front of her and disappeared into the ditch on the far side of the road, which made her smile. She heard hoofbeats, and out of the corner of her eye saw an equipage coming down the Tapley End drive to the lodge. She resolutely refused to turn and stare. Her smile became a sneer. So he was come, the man from Cumberland, to view his unexpected windfall. It was so unfair. Here he was, with an estate he had never even heard of until the solicitor’s letter, an estate that could mean nothing beyond revenue, and yet it was in her blood, part of her. She lengthened her stride, and her gloved hands clenched.
She heard the gates creaking open behind her. Those48gates always creaked, no matter how much they were oiled. She did not alter her pace but strode on. The hoofbeats, at a brisk trot, grew loud behind her, and then suddenly she was sprayed with muddy water as the vehicle passed her. She let out an involuntary cry of annoyance and surprise as she was soaked.
The curricle, for she could see it now, came to a halt a few yards up the road, and a youthful tiger jumped down from behind and ran to the horses’ heads. The driver turned in his seat as she approached and saw her expression. He had ignored her presence right up until her cry, when a sideways glance had revealed she was not some village wench with red cheeks and a bucolic gaze, but a young woman with a very pleasing profile and the demeanour of one used to giving instructions, not receiving them. To such a face an apology would be given.
He was wearing a low-crowned beaver set at a very particular angle to look nonchalant but suave. His pale, aquamarine blue eyes gave nothing away but gathered much; he possessed a deep, broad brow, and eyes set very wide apart. His cheekbones gave his face a sculpted look that would have been consideredde rigueuron an ancient statue of a Greek god, and beneath a straight nose was a wide cleft that gave him a pronounced bow to his mouth that was both bizarrely feminine and yet powerful. In repose it hinted at petulance, but when he smiled, as now, it had a reptilian charm to it. Mary hated him on sight.
‘My sincere apologies, ma’am. The least I can offer is to take you up and convey you to wherever you are49going on this blustery afternoon.’ His voice did not drawl, quite, but had a slow self-assurance. Mary had no doubt that her elderly pelisse and close, practical bonnet, added to the fact that she was on foot, had given him an erroneous impression of her. He probably imagined she was some local maid, vaguely genteel, who would be overwhelmed at the thought of being conveyed by a gentleman sporting six capes to his driving coat, and in a curricle with red wheels, however improper it would be to agree. Well, if he thought she was going to say yes, then he was in for disappointment.
‘Thank you, sir, for your soverykind consideration, having already passed me without lessening your pace one jot. However, I am perfectly content to continue upon foot, and it would not do to sully such a fine turn-out with my now muddy garments.’ Her voice was icy, but her eyes flashed fire. The gentleman tried again.
