Angelina (2 page)

“Never. Aunt Alexandra will always have my gratitude.” She gave a sad smile. But she would never have her love, for it was something never given or encouraged all these years. Please, God, she prayed as they strolled across the garden. If I must become a wife, give me a man I can respect and love.

* * * *

James had never felt quite so nervous in his life. Carefully, he checked that his buff coloured breeches were immaculate, his high-buttoned waistcoat free of stains, and his brown leather boots polished to perfection. Holding out his arms he allowed his servant to assist him into his coat. It was mid-brown, almost sober, but excellently tailored and the newest in his wardrobe.

“Your hat and cane, My Lord.”

James took them with a smile. “Is my horse ready?”

“These last five minutes, sir.” His servant brushed an imaginary piece of lint from his coat. “If I may be so bold. Good luck with your young sister, My Lord. I hope the meeting goes well.”

 James had taken it upon himself to inform his servants of his sister’s existence, saving unnecessary speculation regarding their relationship.”Thank you, Dawson.”  

He cut a fine figure as he left the inn behind and made his way along the lanes leading to Chevonleigh. He was glad of the shade the trees offered as their branches intertwined above his head, for the day had turned out to be warm and slightly humid after the wet start.

The air was perfumed with the headiness of summer. The drone of bees lent an air of timelessness to the countryside. James stopped at the top of a rise. He gazed around him with interest whilst he savoured the delight of it after the unhealthy aroma of the London streets.

Ignoring the profusion of gaudy wildflowers seeking to distract him, he observed through the eyes of a businessman. Chevonleigh land had already converted from the old strip system of farming, the fields and livestock looked well managed. The estate steward was obviously an efficient manager, James thought.

From where he paused, James could see the roof and part of a house nestled in a clearing. The portion visible was of Tudor design, the upper part half-timbered, the brickwork decorative and the windows tall and narrow. The diamond shaped panes reflected back gleams of sunlight. Through the trees surrounding the house, James could see a ripple of water on what seemed to be a sizeable lake. A series of walled gardens provided sheltered beds for vegetables and herbs, and situated off to the left was an orchard laden with summer fruit.

His mind strayed to Angelina. She was unaware of the changes about to take place in her life, unaware she was now wealthy young woman with a family of relations she’d never known. James’ heart went out to her.

“Help me carry out my responsibilities to this child with wisdom and humility, Lord,” he prayed out loud, then added as an afterthought before spurring his horse forward. “Also, I’d be eternally grateful if you could persuade Angelina to like me a little.” 

James came across Bessie asleep on to a large stone standing sentinel at the top of the rise. This had to be the maid the steward had mentioned.

“Are you Bessie Higgins?”

The old woman jerked awake, rose painfully to her feet and bobbed a curtsy. “That I am, sir.”

“Where is your mistress?”

 “Gone to the stream to see if the otters are abroad, sir.”

“You let her go to the stream unaccompanied?”

Her fists went to her hips. “If only you knew how fleet of foot Mistress Angelina is.” She placed a hand over her heart for effect. “I just stopped to catch my breath a minute.”

James gave her an amused glance. “Where is this stream with the otters?”

“Through the copse and over the next hill. But ....sir...wait a minute,” she cried as he kicked his horse into motion. “She has no chaperone.”

“She doesn’t need one,” he shouted back at her. “I’m Viscount Romsey, Lady Angelina’s brother.”

“Angelina doesn’t have no brother,” the woman yelled out, “And if you harm one hair on her head I’ll....” He was out of range when the threat was uttered, but hoped the woman wouldn’t be too hard on him. When he looked back she was hobbling after him as fast as her legs could carry her.

He smiled when he emerged from the copse. A pair of white kid slippers and some neatly darned hose had been placed side by side on a log. Just at the top of the rise he caught a glimpse of his prey as she disappeared over the top.

Tying his horse to a branch at the edge of the copse he continued on foot. When he reached the top of the rise he saw his sister half-way down the sloping meadow. Running in circles amongst the wind-teased summer grass, her arms were outstretched in childlike exuberance. Around her, scarlet poppies and white daisies danced in lively confusion with brilliant golden dandelions.

Angelina was plainly dressed, her blue gown similar to those worn by the servants at the house. As James followed after her she snatched a ribbon-bedecked straw bonnet from her head and threw it high in the air. She laughed as the wind caught her hair and sent it whipping in strands around her face, then raced after the hat as it sailed towards the stream.

She giggled when it fell into the water, picked up her skirts and waded into the shallows. The hat spun out of her reach when she bent to retrieve it. James laughed; he couldn’t help himself.

“Oh!  Who are you?” Angelina didn’t think to leave the stream before she dropped her skirts. Consternation uppermost in her expression, she gazed at the sopping hem before bringing her eyes back to him. “Look what you’ve made me do, sir. My maid will most surely scold me.”

“Allow me to help you.” James retrieved her hat with his cane, then held out his hand to assist her from the stream.

She took a step backwards. “You’re on Pakenham land, sir. Would you state your name and business?”

Any lingering doubt about this girl being his sister was instantly dispelled. Her features and colouring were those of his stepmother, Elizabeth. She displayed the same high cheekbones and creamy textured skin, the same arresting green eyes. Her hair was a tawny shade rather than chestnut, and hung to her waist in a severe braid.  

“I’m Lord James Wrey, Viscount Romsey, and heir to the Earl of Winterbourne.”

The green eyes remained a blank. It was as Lady Alexandra had informed him. Angelina had been kept in total ignorance of her background. “Your business, My Lord?” Her eyes narrowed slightly and her voice became fierce when he didn’t answer straight away. “You can tell me now, or wait until my three brothers arrive with their dogs. They are not far behind.”

 If only she knew how close to the truth she’d come. James tried to banish the amusement from his eyes. The girl was quick-witted in the face of danger, her spirit admirable. He couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease a little and settled himself comfortably on the grass. “My business is with a young lady named Angelina. If you are she, perhaps it would be as well to wait for your three brothers to arrive. My news is of the utmost importance, and confidential.” 

“Is it bad news or good?” Her lovely eyes were intrigued, but her body had the stance of a skittish colt. She’d shy away at the least sign of danger.

 “Both,” James replied, enjoying the encounter and wanting it to last. “Understandably, you are nervous of me so we will wait for your brothers to arrive.”

“You do not look like a man who’d harm a woman.” She slanted her head to one side, curiosity written in her eyes.

“I’d never harm a woman. You have my word of honour.” 

“I’m Angelina Pakenham,” she admitted. “What did you want to see me about, My Lord?”

  “If you’ll emerge from the stream I’ll tell you.” James’ encouraging smile was met by an uncertain frown in return. “Your maid tells me you came to see the otters.”

Angelina glanced with a certain amount of anxiety towards the ridge. “Bessie will be here in a moment.”

“She is on her way. I wished to speak to you alone, first.”  The time had come to stop trying to gain her confidence and tell her the news. He stood and offered her his hand again. “Take it Angelina. I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but Lady Alexandra is dead and I’ve been appointed your guardian.”

She gave a small, distressed cry and her eyes rounded in shock. In an instant she placed her small hand in his and came to stand in front of him on the grassy bank.

“Aunt Alexandra is dead?” She did not cry, but a haunted expression came into her eyes. “I hope she did not suffer.”

How disconsolate she sounded. James ached to take her in his arms and told a small lie to comfort her. “Lady Alexandra died suddenly. She was buried next to her husband two days ago in St Martin’s cemetery in London.”

“I see.” She withdrew her hand. Although her face had paled and tears blurred her eyes, she did not seem unduly distressed by the news. For that James was thankful.

Slanting her head to one side in that altogether charming manner of hers, she gazed at him with curiosity. “Why were you appointed my guardian, Viscount Romsey? Have you been appointed by the court?” Her eyes narrowed as she gazed at him once more. “Your face seems familiar. Have we met before?”

“Briefly, about two years ago. Your dog ran under my horse and....”

“Poor Muffin got such a fright he ran away and was lost,” she accused. “And you didn’t even apologise.”

“Apologise?” He raised an eyebrow. “The dog nearly unseated me.”

“Perhaps it’s I who should apologise then.” She gave a soft laugh. “I remember thinking how well you got your horse back under control at the time.” Her eyes glinted greenly. “My aunt thought you a most disagreeable young man. She said the language you used was unfit for my ears. I cannot imagine why she should appoint you my guardian.”

Her words had a strangely provocative quality. James found himself on the brink of apologising when he glimpsed the mischief in her eyes. “Perhaps you’d consider your three brothers more suitable guardians?”

She gave a delicate shrug. “If I admit to not having any brothers, will you say how my wardship became your business?”

“Most certainly.” He took both her hands in his and gazed at her. “Perhaps things will become clearer if I correct your mistake. You do have brothers, and I am one of them. You also have a sister, a mother and a father. You’re Lady Angelina Wrey, my dear, and far from being alone, you have a family waiting to welcome you home.”

“How?” she murmured.

“Lady Alexandra stole you from your mother. All these years your mother thought you were dead.”

The sun still shone, the breeze still sent the flowers and grasses dancing, the bees still droned amongst the flowers. To Angelina, the world appeared to have as much substance as shifting shadows upon the water.

She gazed into eyes as dark and soft as midnight, and they were full of concern. Her brother? This tall man with his kind face was her brother? Her mind was in turmoil. There were others, he’d said. “How many?”

The merest hesitation. “One. His name is William.” 

“My sister?”

Another hesitation.”Rosabelle.”

“How old is Rosabelle?”

“The same age as you...twins...no, you’re not alike...Rosabelle is dark. Your mother’s name is Elizabeth. You are very much like her. Rosabelle takes after her father.”

Angelina thought she could grow to like this man. Her brother? Dear God!  Tears pricked her eyes. She had a family. No more loneliness. She’d have someone to talk too, a mother to advise her. But what if...?  Terror raced down her spine as she quietly asked. “I will be a stranger to them. What if they do not like me?” 

She appreciated the fact James didn’t deny the possibility. “You’ll have me. I do not take my responsibilities lightly.”

“Is that what I am to you. A responsibility?” Of course she was. How could she expect this man to have feelings towards a sister he’d never known? At least he was honest with her. They had only just met, yet she felt she could trust him.

“I will not deny that you are.” His smile was teasing. “Legally, I’m your guardian until you reach the age of twenty-five, or a suitable husband is found to take you off my hands. That should not be too difficult. You’re Lady Alexandra’s heir, and you come with a large dowry.”

Dismay sliced like a knife into her heart. She stared at him with dread in her eyes. “You don’t intend to marry me off to a stranger, do you?” Her voice heated as her temper took over. “Aunt Alexandra may have stolen me, sir, but her trust was misplaced if she thought you a proper guardian for me. She’d never have forced me into marriage against my will.” The ground under her suddenly seemed as delicate and slippery as the first ice on the lake in winter.

She snatched up her hat and was about to walk away when a thought occurred to her. She rounded on him. “How do I know the tale you’ve told me is not a pack of lies? How do I know you are not here to compromise me, sir, thus to claim my aunt’s fortune for yourself? I’ve been educated about the wicked ways of men.”

His eyes widened in astonished denial, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak. She wanted to escape back to the house, to the safety of her room and the possessions familiar to her. She wanted to bury herself in Bessie’s comforting lap like she used to as a child, pretend things were just the same.

Bessie had arrived at the top of the hill. Placing a hand to his chest Angelina shoved James backwards. He stumbled, lost his footing and toppled backwards into the stream. She took off as fast as she could when he uttered an oath.

“Quick, Bessie,” she said when she reached the top of the hill. “We’ll take his horse before he catches us.”

“Go on, my love, I can’t run another step,” Bessie gasped. Breathless and puce-faced with effort she picked up a stout branch, holding it in a threatening manner in front of her. “I’ll brain him before he gets to you, that I will.”

“Wait!”

   Angelina heard the man shout as she reached the spot where his horse was tethered. Her fear increased when he decreased the distance between them with long strides. There was no sign of Bessie. Angelina took a panicky breath. The man had killed her maid, now he’d kill her!

The horse was a giant, or so it seemed to her startled eyes. Her sudden appearance sent it snickering and dancing nervously. Riding was a skill she’d never been seriously taught, usually contenting herself by walking, or using a gentle old hack that had been put out to grass.