A Christmas Courtship (12 page)

‘And provided my father is still prepared to whisper sweet words in the Duke of Norfolk’s ear,’ she observed acidly.

He exhaled slowly. ‘May I remind you that your father isn’t the only route to the duke, merely an additional one? Blanche, why must we argue about this? I love you and want with all my heart to marry you, and this is the only way!’

‘Then take your betrothal and go to perdition, sir,’ she replied coldly.

‘Blanche!’ His lips parted in astonishment.

‘What else do you expect me to say, sirrah? You’ve just demanded the most monstrous sacrifice from me, and you think it can matter little more than the snapping of your fingers!’ She broke off, trembling too much to continue.

‘Blanche….’ He came toward her, putting a hand on her sleeve, but she recoiled furiously.

‘Don’t touch me, sir! Please go.’

‘You need time to consider….’

‘I will never reconsider. I don’t want to marry you anymore, Mr Mortimer, and I cannot now believe I was ever so
empty-headed
as to fall in love with you.’

‘I will call again in a day or so, when you’ve had time to reflect, for you’re obviously not yourself at the moment,’ he said a little coolly.

‘I’ve never been more myself than I am right now,’ she answered, going to the door and holding it pointedly open. ‘I don’t want to ever see you again, sir, and have certainly
eliminated
any thought of a betrothal, at Christmas or any other time.
You’ll be wasting effort if you come here again, for you will not be admitted. Whatever may once have been between us, is now most certainly over.’

‘You’ll regret this, Blanche.’

‘No, sir, I’ll only regret what went before, when I was blind to the truth about you.’

‘This Christmas will be the most utterly miserable of your life, madam, and I trust you suffer immeasurably!’ he snapped,
striding
past her and snatching up his hat, gloves, and riding crop from the hall table. In his haste he knocked over the bowl of holly and ivy, and as the bowl crashed to the stone floor, he lashed out at it, scattering fragments of broken porcelain in all directions. He turned toward the kitchen door, which stood slightly ajar. ‘Bring my horse!’ he shouted, then he left the cottage, slamming the door behind him.

Blanche bent slowly to pick up the greenery and pieces of broken bowl. She heard Jake bring the horse around, and then the muffled sound of galloping hooves as Antony rode furiously away through the snow. As the sounds died away, she bowed her head, for tears were wet on her cheeks.

Hannah found her there a few minutes later.

The winter afternoon was drawing in fast, and Blanche and her father were seated in the parlor. Her distress over Antony was still fresh and painful, but lacked that piercing heartbreak that she knew should have been there. It was almost as if the emotion she’d felt for him hadn’t been love at all, but something else. Surely if she’d really loved him, loved him as she’d believed she had, then she would be weeping now, not sitting calmly
deliberating
whether or not she’d given him her heart. If she had, there couldn’t be any doubt; but there was doubt, and she knew now that it was because her heart hadn’t been as deeply engaged as she’d convinced herself it was.

She’d told her father about Antony’s visit, and he’d been sad for her, although he’d made little secret of being relieved that the contentious match was no longer to take place. He was very angry that the Mortimers had delivered such a despicable
ultimatum
, but remarked that it was no more or less than he’d expect from such persons. Hannah and Jake had been appalled at the things that had been said to her, but, like her father, they too were open about their relief that she was no longer bent upon such a mismatch. No one said, ‘I told you so,’ but they might as well have done.

Now there was no more mention of her unwise liaison; instead, all thoughts were centered upon Jonathan, and how best to extricate him from the conspiracy that had brought him to such a sorry pass. Now that it was certain that Deborah Jennings would not change her mind, Mr Amberley had written his letter to his old friend, Sir Benjamin Holden. The letter carrier had already taken it, and it would leave Gloucester on the next mail.
The next thing now was to break to Jonathan the unpalatable news that his once-beloved Deborah was still intent upon
ruining
him with her lies. Blanche and Jake intended to go to him at the cave that night, when all was quiet, and persuade him to return to the cottage with them if they could. There was nothing to be gained now from remaining in hiding, for they would never gather any evidence to clear his name, and the best defense for him now would be to give himself up to his commanding officer and face a court-martial with his honesty and honor.

Between now and going to see Jonathan, however, there was the matter of Sir Edmund’s promised visit with the brace of pheasants to deal with. Candles had already been lit in the parlor, adding their soft glow to the dancing firelight that set shadows leaping over the wainscotted walls.

Blanche sat with an open book on her lap, but she hadn’t read a single word. Her long silvery hair was brushed loose, and fell down over the shoulders of her plain beige woolen gown. She knew that it would be more appropriate to pin her hair up since Sir Edmund was expected, but after all that had happened she had a headache, and the thought of restricting pins was far from pleasant. She wished that the new master of Amberley Court had elected to send his wretched pheasants with a servant, and certainly had no wish to endure yet another polite conversation with him. Another thought occurred to her; perhaps by now the story of the goings-on at Orchard Cottage had reached the big house and been relayed to Sir Edmund. What would be the
reaction
of a major-general to the news that the army has been searching premises right outside his own main gates? No doubt they would soon find out, for it was impossible to believe that such intriguing news would fail to penetrate the portals of Amberley Court.

She leaned her head back, gazing at the Christmas greenery on the mantelpiece. Please let all this soon be ended, and let Jonathan’s honor be restored. More than that, let Roderick Neville and Deborah Jennings pay the price of their misdeeds, and let Christmas at Orchard Cottage be a joyful occasion after all.

A knock at the front door roused her from her thoughts, and she sat up quickly as Hannah hurried from the kitchen. The front door was opened, and Sir Edmund spoke. Blanche leaned forward to touch her father’s knee, for he’d fallen asleep in his chair.

‘Father, wake up, for Sir Edmund is here.’

‘Eh? What?’ He straightened, blinking a little. ‘I wasn’t asleep, my dear, just thinking.’

‘And snoring a little as you did so,’ she said, smiling.

‘Nonsense, my dear,’ he muttered, putting his book aside and getting up to position himself before the fire in readiness to receive their visitor.

Hannah came in. ‘Sir Edmund has called, sir,’ she said. ‘Show him in, show him in.’

Hannah stood aside, and Sir Edmund came in, bending his head a little to pass beneath the rather low doorway. Then he bowed. ‘Good afternoon, Mr Amberley, Miss Amberley.’

In that brief moment Blanche knew that somehow he was still unaware of what had happened to the Amberley family.

Sir Edmund smiled at her father. ‘I trust that I haven’t called at an inconvenient time, only as I said to Miss Amberley, I have a brace of pheasants for you.’ He gestured toward the hall, where he’d left the birds on the table.

Mr Amberley was at pains to reassure him. ‘Inconvenient? Not at all. Please sit down, Sir Edmund. Would you care for a glass of cognac?’

‘Thank you, sir, that would be most agreeable.’ Sir Edmund flicked aside the tails of his uniform coat and sat down on a sofa, his glance moving briefly toward Blanche, taking in her loose, unpinned hair.

She raised a self-conscious hand. ‘Please forgive my undressed appearance, Sir Edmund, only I fear I have a headache….’

‘Please do not apologize, Miss Amberley, for in truth you look most charming.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

His glance lingered upon her, but then Mr Amberley pressed a glass into his hand.

‘Sir Edmund, I know that you must have an excellent nose for fine cognac, so I would appreciate your opinion of this.’

Sir Edmund lifted the glass to his nose, and then raised an appreciative eyebrow. ‘Why, sir, it has the finest bouquet I’ve encountered in many a year.’

‘I confess that I took it with me when I left Amberley Court, for I could not bear to give it up.’

‘A more than understandable act, sir,’ replied Sir Edmund with a smile.

‘You are most magnanimous, Sir Edmund, for in truth the cognac is yours.’

‘Then consider it a gift, sir, to assist with the digestion of the pheasants.’ Sir Edmund raised the glass to him. ‘And to be sure, a glass of cognac and a fine pheasant should be followed by a suitably superior dessert, so I will be certain to send some of the fine late pineapples from the pinery.’

‘Sir, I couldn’t possibly….’

‘Accept? But Mr Amberley, I’m reliably informed that you planted the pineapples yourself.’

‘I did indeed.’

‘Then it is only right that you should enjoy them. Besides, some have already been cut in readiness for the small dinner party Lady Hetherington and I are holding on Monday night, when her brother and his fiancée join us, and there is more than sufficient fruit for only four persons. Please accept them, sir, with my compliments.’

‘You’re uncommon gracious, Sir Edmund. Uncommon gracious,’ replied Mr Amberley, resuming his seat.

Blanche lowered her eyes, pondering the foursome at dinner on Monday night. Would Athena’s brother be equally as odious as she? In all probability he was. She felt sorry for his
unfortunate
fiancée, unless that lady too was in the same mold. Maybe only Sir Edmund was the odd one out … Blanche raised her eyes to him, and found that he was looking at her.

Mr Amberley swirled his glass. ‘Tell me, Sir Edmund, are you enjoying your new residence?’

‘I am indeed, it is a most beautiful house.’

‘And Lady Hetherington, does she like the house?’

Sir Edmund paused. ‘I’m afraid that Lady Hetherington cares little for the countryside, and intends soon to return to London.’

‘Does this mean that you will not reside in Amberley St Mary after your marriage?’ inquired Blanche’s father.

‘That is some time in the future, sir. I have to return to my
regiment
in Spain before any marriage arrangements can possibly be made.’

‘And in the meantime I trust that we will have the pleasure of your presence here in this village.’

Blanche gazed at the fire. How very natural and unconcerned her father sounded, as if all were well in the world. It was a measure of the breeding of centuries, which made it a cardinal sin for him to show his true feelings in front of someone he hardly knew.

Sir Edmund drained his glass. ‘Actually, sir, it was concerning my presence here that I wished to speak to you, and why,
therefore
, I brought the brace of pheasants in person.’

‘Indeed?’

‘Yes. I haven’t yet attended service at the church, and as tomorrow is Sunday, I was wondering if I could foist my company upon you and Miss Amberley? It seems that that would be the appropriate thing to do, if only to show that relations are courteous between Amberley Court and Orchard Cottage.’

Mr Amberley nodded. ‘It would indeed, but I fear that I will not be attending. I am in poor health, and the thought of the cold church in weather like this is positively abhorrent. Blanche will be attending, however, won’t you, my dear?’

‘Father….’

‘Of course you must attend, for there must be an Amberley at Advent services.’ Her father looked meaningfully at her. He knew she’d have preferred not to go, but felt that with gossip on the point of running rife, the very best thing would be to show a brave face at Sunday morning service.

She managed a smile of sorts, and looked at Sir Edmund. ‘But what of Lady Hetherington, sir?’ she asked, remembering that lady’s attitude in the carriage. ‘Will she not prefer to attend alone with you?’

‘Lady Hetherington has other plans for tomorrow, Miss Amberley.’

‘Oh. Then, yes, of course I will attend church with you,’ she said, hiding her reluctance and summoning another smile.

‘Thank you, Miss Amberley. Would it be in order to travel in my carriage?’

‘Unless you would prefer the pony and trap,’ she replied, with faint amusement at the thought.

‘I think not,’ he murmured, smiling. ‘The carriage it is, then. I gather the service commences at ten, so I will call here for you at about a quarter to.’

‘Very well.’

‘And now, I think I have imposed upon you for long enough.’ He rose to his feet.

Mr Amberley reached out to ring the bell for Hannah, but Blanche prevented him. ‘I will show Sir Edmund to the door, Father.’

She accompanied Sir Edmund out into the chilly hall, where she handed him his cocked hat and gloves, which lay waiting on the table. ‘Thank you again for the pheasants, Sir Edmund,’ she said politely.

‘Miss Amberley, have I offended you in some way?’ ‘No, of course not.’ She colored, thinking that she’d allowed him to detect her reluctance concerning church.

‘If it is on account of the extremely disagreeable situation earlier today….’

‘Disagreeable?’

‘In the carriage.’

‘Oh, no, please don’t think that,’ she replied quickly, flushing a little more.

‘I’m afraid that Lady Hetherington and I had had something of a contretempts just before we stopped for you, and she isn’t renowned for her….’

‘Sir Edmund, you don’t have to explain to me – perhaps least of all to me. Lady Hetherington and I cordially dislike each other, and I doubt very much indeed that she’ll like it when you inform her that you and I are attending church together
tomorrow
. If things are a little awkward between you, they will be
more awkward than ever when she finds out.’

‘Are you offering me advice, Miss Amberley?’ he asked quitely.

She drew back in embarrassment. ‘Forgive me, sir, I didn’t mean to presume….’

‘I should think not, madam, especially when your own personal affairs are not exactly perfect.’

‘I-I beg your pardon?’

‘I’m referring to a certain Mr Antony Mortimer, whose visit here today, if I read Cutler’s theatrical expressions correctly, was not exactly an enjoyable event.’

She stared at him. ‘I didn’t think you’d noticed.’

‘I notice everything, Miss Amberley.’ He looked at her. ‘Am I right? Are things a little awkward between you and Mr Mortimer?’

‘Yes, Sir Edmund, they are very awkward indeed, in fact they’re so awkward that I’ve informed him that I do not wish to see him again.’

His blue eyes were penetrating. ‘I will not presume so far as to ask why, but I will be so bold as to say that I’m relieved to hear it. Such an alliance would have been very inadvisable indeed.’

‘With the benefit of hindsight, sir, I have to agree with you, but for the moment, I really do not wish to discuss it further.’

He nodded, donning his cocked hat and then pulled on his gloves. ‘Then I will wish you good night, Miss Amberley.’

She went to open the front door, shivering as the bitterly cold night air breathed over her. ‘Good night, Sir Edmund.’

He paused on the doorstep, glancing up at the starless sky. ‘There’ll be more snow before morning, I fancy. It’s a night to be spent before one’s fire, and not to be out and about.’

She glanced down toward the gate and saw neither carriage nor horse. ‘You’ve walked here, Sir Edmund?’

‘Yes.’ He smiled a little. ‘A walk gives one the opportunity to think, Miss Amberley.’ Inclining his head to her, he stepped out into the snow.

She watched him until he passed out of sight beyond the snow-clad trees and Amberley Court, and then she turned to go back inside, closing the door softly behind her. She was about to
go into the parlor when Hannah suddenly came hurrying from the kitchens.

‘It’s all right, Hannah, I’ve shown Sir Edmund out.’

‘That isn’t my purpose, Miss Blanche.’ The housekeeper seemed uneasy, smoothing her starched white apron with a nervousness that imparted itself only too swiftly to Blanche.

‘What is it, Hannah? What’s wrong?’

‘I think you and Mr Amberley had best come to the kitchen straightaway, Miss Blanche, for there’s a man there I believe you should speak to without delay.’

‘A man? Hannah, if someone has called, why can he not be shown into the parlor?’

‘Because he’s not the sort of person to be received in the best room – indeed, were it not for what he says, I’d have sent him packing directly he arrived.’