A Christmas Courtship (15 page)

Blanche dressed for church in her very best walking attire, a wine-red woolen gown and matching three-quarter-length pelisse, trimmed on the collar and cuffs with black figured velvet. Her silver-blond hair was swept up beneath a black hat from which sprang wine-red aigrettes. Two years ago she would have looked very stylish and up-to-date, but now she was merely well-dressed, a lady fit for the elegance of Gloucester but not for the grandeur of Mayfair.

The church bell had been echoing across the countryside for nearly five minutes now, and several pony traps from nearby farms and cottages had already driven by. She glanced out of the window and saw the last small party of villagers walking down the hill in response to the bell’s summoning.

The gates of Amberley Court opened suddenly, and she looked toward them in time to see not Sir Edmund’s dark green carriage but Lady Hetherington’s, drawn by its team of four perfectly matched bays. This time Blanche had the presence of mind to draw back from the window, but not too far so that she couldn’t see the carriage as it passed. She saw Athena seated inside with her maid. The future Lady Brandon was dressed in salmon-pink, with soft white fur at her throat and framing her hat. Her green eyes fluttered briefly toward the cottage, and then she snapped the carriage blind down.

As the carriage drove away down the snowy street, Blanche heard a second vehicle emerging from Amberley Court, and she looked out to see that this time it was Sir Edmund himself, for the carriage was reined in expertly at the gate by Richards’s perfect judgment, so that the door was right by the gate.

Sir Edmund alighted, pausing to tuck his cocked hat under his arm. She gazed down at his handsome face, forced again to admit to herself that she found him more agreeable than she wished. Two years ago she’d despised everything about him, but now, in spite of herself she was very attracted to him.

Color leapt to her cheeks at the path her thoughts were taking, and once again she moved discreetly back from the window. She had to put such thoughts well and truly from her mind, for she had no business thinking them. Her hands trembled a little as she picked up her gloves and put them on, and as she teased the final finger, she heard his knock at the front door.

Hannah had admitted him and was just coming up the stairs to tell her, when Blanche descended. ‘It’s all right, Hannah, I’m ready.’

‘Yes, Miss Blanche.’ The housekeeper turned and retreated, closing the kitchen door softly behind her.

Blanche reached the foot of the stairs. ‘Good morning, Sir Edmund.’

His glance moved over her. ‘Good morning, Miss Amberley. May I say how lovely you look?’

‘You’re very kind, sir, but I know that I’m less than
à la mode.
’

‘Fashion isn’t everything,’ he murmured, offering her his arm. ‘Shall we go?’

They emerged into the snow, and as he handed her into the waiting carriage she wondered again if he’d have been so gallant and attentive had he known what had really been happening for the past day or so. It was obvious that he still knew nothing about the Amberley scandal, although she couldn’t understand how the story had failed to reach the big house.

As they took their place and Richards urged the team into action, Sir Edmund looked at her again. ‘I trust your nocturnal perambulation had the desired effect, Miss Amberley, and that you are feeling much more collected this morning.’

‘And what of you, Sir Edmund? Are things better in your life?’

He pursed his lips a little. ‘Shall we just say that the air was cleared last night, and many things were said. I believe it can only improve from now on.’

‘I saw Lady Hetherington drive by a short while ago.’

He paused for a moment. ‘Er, yes, she’s spending the day in Gloucester with her brother.’

‘The one who’s dining with you with his fiancée tomorrow evening?’ she asked, wondering why he’d paused so noticeably before replying.

‘Yes.’

She smiled. ‘I hope the Amberley Court pineapples will live up to expectations.’

‘I’m sure they will,’ he said, smiling as well. Then he looked more seriously at her. ‘Miss Amberley, forgive me if I’m prying again, but I have the strongest feeling that something is wrong in your life, and I’m not just referring to Mortimer.’

She looked quickly away. ‘Everything’s quite all right, Sir Edmund,’ she replied.

‘You really are an abominable liar,’ he observed frankly, and for a moment she thought he was going to reveal that he did after all know all about the army’s visits to Orchard Cottage, but he didn’t. ‘I have no idea what’s wrong, Miss Amberley, I only know that something must be. Why won’t you confide in me?’

‘I-I hardly know you, sir,’ she answered, suddenly wishing that she could indeed tell him everything. But the time wasn’t yet right to confide in anyone; Jonathan was right, and only when the note was safely in their hands would it be wise to come out into the open. Until then he was a hunted man, forced to hide in order to evade unfair capture.

Sir Edmund’s blue eyes searched her face very carefully, but he said nothing more.

The carriage halted by the lychgate, and Blanche couldn’t help looking at the top of the wall where she hoped a stone could be placed before nightfall.

Sir Edmund alighted and turned to assist her down, and as he did so, the Reverend Green hurried down the church path to greet them, halting in some surprise as he saw not Lady Hetherington, but Miss Blanche Amberley.

‘Good morning, Sir Edmund, Miss Amberley,’ he said,
emerging
through the lychgate. He was an elderly man, slight and balding, and Blanche’s presence at Sir Edmund’s side obviously disconcerted him. ‘Er, welcome to St Mary’s church, Sir
Edmund,’ he said, glancing at her in a way that informed her that he’d heard all the whispers in circulation in the area.

‘Thank you, Reverend,’ replied Sir Edmund.

‘I trust you will enjoy the service.’

‘Only if your sermon isn’t too tedious and long, I promise you.’

The clergyman looked a little affronted. ‘Sir Edmund, my sermons are renowned for their excellence and profundity,’ he said, without any shadow of modesty.

Blanche looked away. The Reverend Green had been less than helpful to her family when disaster had overtaken them two years ago; before then he’d been all that was obsequious and fawning. He was a fair weather friend and she didn’t like him, and as for the excellence and profundity of his sermons, well, the state of numbing ennui they usually induced had to be
experienced
to be believed.

Sir Edmund was dryly amused by the clergyman’s vanity. ‘No doubt I’m long overdue for a little excellent profundity, Reverend.’

The clergyman cleared his throat, glancing at Blanche, and then leaned a little closer to Sir Edmund. ‘May I have a word in private, Sir Edmund?’

‘Is it necessary?’

‘I believe so, sir.’

‘Very well. If you will excuse me, Miss Amberley?’

‘Certainly, Sir Edmund,’ she replied uneasily, fearing that he was about to be regaled with the story of the goings-on at Orchard Cottage.

Drawing Sir Edmund a little way away, but still just within her hearing, the clergyman spoke in a low, embarrassed tone. ‘Sir Edmund, I fear I am in something of a quandary concerning the seating arrangements in the church.’

‘Seating arrangements?’ Sir Edmund looked blankly at him. ‘What on earth has that to do with me?’

‘I’m referring to the principal pew, sir, the gallery pew to be precise.’

Sir Edmund’s blue eyes became a little cool. ‘What about it?’

‘Well, sir, it has long been the custom for it to be occupied by
those who reside in the big house, which until two years ago were Miss Amberley’s family. However, you are now the owner of Amberley Court, but since you’ve been absent for the past two years, Miss Amberley’s family have continued to occupy the pew, and I have said nothing. Now that you are here, Sir Edmund, I think you will agree that I am in something of a predicament.’

‘I agree nothing of the sort, sir,’ replied Sir Edmund coldly.

‘I-I beg your pardon?’ The clergyman hadn’t expected his words to be received so frostily.

‘
Mr
Green, if anyone has a right to occupy the gallery pew, it is Miss Amberley, whose ancestor provided it in the first place. I am sure that her ancestor meant it to be used by his descendants, and would probably turn in his grave with rage if he knew that you were endeavoring to deny the Amberley family their rights.’

‘Sir Edmund, I….’

‘Are you or are you not suggesting that I should occupy the principal pew, and that Miss Amberley and her family should be relegated to some lesser position?’

The Reverend Green stared at him, and belatedly realized his error. ‘I, er, no, of course not, Sir Edmund.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it, sir, for nothing could be further from my mind. It is Miss Amberley’s prerogative to use that pew, and if I occupy it, it will be at her express invitation. Do I make myself crystal clear?’

‘Yes, Sir Edmund, you do indeed.’ The clergyman’s glance moved briefly toward Blanche. There was speculation in that glance, and a certain unspoken suspicion that there was more to Lady Hetherington’s absence than met the eye.

Sir Edmund read him like a book. ‘Sir, you have already caused me grave offense, so pray do not add further insult.’

‘Nothing could have been further from my mind, I assure you, Sir Edmund,’ replied the clergyman hastily, coloring guiltily. ‘I, er, I think I had best goon in to see that all is in readiness for the service to commence.’

As he beat a hasty retreat back toward the church, Sir Edmund returned to Blanche. ‘Again I must crave your forgiveness, Miss Amberley, for it was ill done to desert you.’

‘It was hardly your fault, Sir Edmund,’ she replied, still relieved that it hadn’t concerned anything else, although she knew it was only a matter of time before he heard all about it.

‘The man is a dolt,’ he said, gazing after the clergyman.

‘I couldn’t agree more.’

‘Are his sermons as dreadful as I begin to fear?’

‘Worse,’ she said flatly.

He offered her his arm. ‘By the way, I take it that you overheard what he had to say?’

‘I confess I did, and I must thank you for being so gallant in my defense.’

He hesitated. ‘Gallant? I fear I may have done you a disservice by seeking to come here alone with you. From the reverend’s manner, it seems there will be talk, and so if you wish to cry off….’

‘We’re here now, Sir Edmund, and to cry off would probably add fuel to any chitter-chatter. Let us simply proceed with the service, and sit together as planned in the gallery pew.’

‘If you’re sure…?’

‘Quite sure, Sir Edmund,’ she replied, taking the arm he offered.

Their arrival in the church caused an immediate stir, for everyone had been expecting to see Athena on his arm. Whispers rustled through the congregation, and all eyes were upon them as they mounted the steps to the gallery pew. Blanche was only too conscious of all the attention they were receiving, and knew that it moved on two levels, one concerned with what may or may not be going on between Sir Edmund Brandon and Miss Blanche Amberley, the other more concerned with the intriguing happenings at night at Orchard Cottage, when the army came searching. The name of Amberley was already touched with scandal, and by coming to church with Sir Edmund, she’d managed to add to the situation.

The service commenced, and the whispering was brought to an end by the singing of the first hymn. Blanche usually enjoyed Advent services, and the excitement of Christmas being so near, but this time there was no pleasure at all.

The service progressed, and she sat stoically through the
sermon, which was more tedious than ever this morning because the Reverend Green was endeavoring to impress Sir Edmund, but her composure was disturbed when the next hymn was announced. It was ‘Love Divine, All Loves Excelling,’ Jonathan’s favorite, and as the familiar notes rang out over the crowded church, she felt a lump rise in her throat.

She didn’t realize how much her emotion was showing until Sir Edmund suddenly touched her arm in concern. ‘Are you all right, Miss Amberley?’ he asked, leaning close to be heard above the singing.

She struggled to collect herself. ‘Yes, Sir Edmund, please do not trouble about me.’

The service drew to a close shortly after that, and the
congregation
began to leave. Curious glances were still directed up at the gallery pew, and a rustle of renewed whispering broke out, but Blanche evinced complete disinterest, though in truth it bothered her very much. With all that had befallen Jonathan, and the consequent scandal that was beginning to spread through the county, the last thing she wanted was to provide the clacking tongues with an extra tidbit to be shocked about.

Sir Edmund was about to escort her from the pew when suddenly he swayed a little, reaching out to the holly-decked rail to steady himself.

Blanche was immediately alarmed. ‘Sir Edmund?’

‘Forgive me yet again, Miss Amberley….’ he breathed, his voice tight with pain.

‘Sit down again, please,’ she said quickly, taking his arm and making him resume his place before she sat next to him again. His face was as ashen as it had been before, and the telltale beads of perspiration had appeared on his forehead.

He managed to give her a brief, rather wry smile. ‘As you will by now be aware, I’m more than a little inclined to ignore my wounds until they choose to forcibly remind me of their
presence
.’

‘Is there anything I can do for you?’

He shook his head, closing his eyes as another spasm of pain lanced sharply through him. She hardly knew she’d taken his hands, it was an instinctive gesture, a need to offer what comfort
she could, and his fingers immediately and convulsively closed over hers, crushing them so hard that she almost cried out.

For a long while he held on to her, his grip like that of a vise, but gradually the pain began to subside, and as it did so, he relaxed and released her. His eyes were still closed, and his
forehead
was damp, but a little color was restored to his face.