Elisabeth Kidd (24 page)

“That miniature is of my husband’s ancestress. It ought by rights to be displayed in Ashtonbury Abbey. I cannot think how it came to be here!”

“Lady Kimborough,” said Alicia soothingly, picking up the miniature to examine it, “please do not upset yourself. You see, there is no positive identification on the reverse. It says only ‘Lady S’. Are you quite sure you recognize the portrait?”

Lady Kimborough reached for the miniature, but Alicia contrived to hold it out of her grasp without appearing to snatch it away. “Of course I am sure! There is a matching portrait in our own gallery, the other half of the pair, which is most assuredly ours. Do you doubt me?”

“No, no. I daresay you truly believe—oh, dear.” Even the ever-tactful Alicia found herself at a standstill and appealed to her husband in frustration.

“We will be glad to have the portrait reappraised, Lady Kimborough, and its provenance established,” Fletcher said, although his tone told everyone he had no doubt that Bromley ownership would be confirmed. Nonetheless, he added soothingly, “By an expert of your choosing, of course.”

When Lavinia looked as if she would accept no less than instant return of the miniature to its rightful owner, Richard spoke up at last. “You are most kind, Lord Bromleigh. We accept your offer. I am sure you will choose an appropriate person to examine the miniature. In the meantime, we will happily leave it in your care.”

He took his wife’s arm and said, “Come, Lavinia, perhaps it is time to go home.”

Lady Kimborough sniffed, but with her husband propelling her firmly towards the door, she said no more. Fletcher and Alicia hurried after their guests to see them out, and Robert made a move to follow.

“Wait!” Sabina cried, not sure what she wanted him to wait for. He did so, obligingly, while she caught up with him, then searched for words.

“Good-bye,” she said finally, inadequately. He smiled and kissed her hand.

“Good-night, Sabina, not good-bye.” He whispered in her ear, “Meet me tomorrow at noon, on the hill by the canal. You remember.”

When she said nothing, he squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Trust me, my love.”

She watched him disappear down the hall and sighed, unsure whether to fling herself from the second-story window or burst into tears of happiness. She was unsure, even, of what had just happened to her. Had they really been reconciled? Had she finally allowed herself to give in? Or had he simply been too kind, too loving, to resist?

The rest of her family, however, seemed to be unaware of her dilemma and stood looking at the miniature which Henry now held, scrutinizing the image as if the lady would identify herself to him and thus solve the question.

“She would pick the most valuable one in the collection,” Randolph remarked acidly.

“And the most ancient,” said Dulcie.

That caught Sabina’s ear and she went to look also. “Why, that’s—” She stopped. “My favorite.”

The mysterious “Lady S” had indeed fascinated her since childhood, when she liked to imagine that the portrait was of another Lady Sabina, one who had lived during Elizabeth’s reign and been a part of the great court of the Virgin Queen. She took the gold case from Henry’s hand and caressed the polished surface of the portrait lovingly.

“Does anyone know of its being one of a pair?” Dulcie asked, to no response.

“To my eye, she does not look like any of us,” Henry admitted, “but whether she is an Ashton is certainly open to debate.”

A minor debate promptly did ensue, Randolph contending that since neither family had risen beyond a baronetage in Elizabeth’s time and neither resided then on their present estates, the portrait could have been acquired by anyone from anywhere in the course of the eighteenth century. Lewis suggested that it could have been stolen, or part of a pirate’s booty, for all they knew. Everyone agreed that it would have to be reappraised but that careful investigation would doubtless confirm the Bromleys’ possession.

Sabina took no part in this discussion and Dulcie, observing her sister-in-law’s listlessness, put her arm comfortingly around her waist as they left the gallery.

“Well,” she said, “God commands us to love our neighbors. Your father asked only that we tolerate them, but even that seems beyond our capability.”

“I
was
asked to love one of them,” Sabina reminded her.

“I know, my dear,” Dulcie said sympathetically, “and I cannot help feeling this is all my fault. I wanted to do too much too soon. I so hoped that this evening would be the beginning of a new closeness between the families, and perhaps even a new opportunity for you.”

“You did what you thought was right,” Sabina said. “At least you
did
something. I should never have had the courage again—that is, ever—to take any sort of bold action. And—well, perhaps it
was
a new beginning. I am not sure precisely what it was, but do not regret your effort, Dulcie. I know it was done out of love.”

Sabina hesitated, not sure what she wanted to say. Dulcie frowned, but did not press her, for which Sabina was grateful. She wanted to tell Dulcie that everything would be well, but she dared not. She still feared that her conversation with Robert had taken place only in her imagination, that his kisses had been only wishful thinking on her part. She felt her lips with her fingertips. No, that must have been real.

“I shall call on the Ashtons,” Dulcie said, “and attempt to make peace. After all, I was almost one of them once.” She stopped and hugged Sabina. “But then I would not have been
your
sister, Sabina dear.”

Sabina looked at her with new eyes. “And
you
breached the gap between us in the other direction, by marrying Henry, didn’t you? I know I am biased toward the Bromleys, but I’m sure I’m right that we all tried to help this evening—except me. I always seem to expect everyone else to make an effort for me.”

Dulcie put her arm around her sister-in-law comfortingly. “Please don’t fret, Sabina. I know everything will work out for the best.”

Sabina sighed. “You and Henry are so fortunate. You saw each other, and fell in love, and there was never any question but that you would live happy ever after.”

Dulcie smiled at her but said nothing.

Chapter 16

Sabina was too impatient to wait and arrived at the place where Robert had asked her to meet him well ahead of their appointed rendezvous. She dismounted, setting her horse free to crop the grass on the hill, and looked out over the landscape. Robert was nowhere in sight yet, so she sat down under the oak tree and concentrated on remembering the view as she had seen it on the day they were last here.

It had been a day much like this, warm and sunny, with a slight breeze ruffling the velvety grass, and the distant canal sparkling with light. The level of water in the canal seemed to be slightly higher since the last rain, and tree branches dipped down towards it, as if to drink from the canal.

What had they talked about then? She could not recall anything except the warm, free feeling she had in his arms. That was odd, her feeling free in his embrace.

She remembered then what they had said—some nonsense about their previous lives as star-crossed lovers, kept apart by their families. She realized now that she must have been voicing her unconscious fears about their own families.

She smiled, remembering that he had promised to carry her off and slay dragons for her sake. He had certainly done his best. It was she who had conjured up the dragons, she who had proved as stubborn as either of their families.

She hoped she had not repented too late.

Her mind occupied with these still troublesome thoughts, she did not immediately see Robert approach, until something made her turn her head, and there he was—striding up the hill from the direction of the lock, carrying a picnic basket.

For a moment, Sabina thought she must have traveled back in time, and everything that had happened since that day was only a figment of her distressed imagination. Her heart was in her mouth as she rose to watch him come toward her.

He saw her and waved. Then something in her look must have made him stop. He smiled, dropped the basket on the ground, and held out his arms to her.

She felt a rush of relief and happiness flood through her as she ran down the hill and into his arms.

He caught her and held her fast. Neither said anything for some time, and Sabina let the welcome sensation of being safe in Robert’s love flow through her and wash away the doubts and fears that she had not been able to dispel alone. Now she knew that she would never be alone again.

After a few minutes, he whispered into her ear, “Are you happy now, Miranda?”

She put her head back to look up at him. “Yes—never so happy. I was so frightened that—”

He put his fingers on her lips. “There is nothing to be frightened of, not any longer.”

She smiled. “I know that. I think I realize now that there never was anything—only my nonsensical notions—”

He stopped her with a kiss this time. When finally, a little shakily, he released her mouth, she sighed deeply but said nothing.

“That’s better,” he said, smiling. The light in his blue eyes warmed her heart.

He picked up the picnic basket. “Look, Rose has packed us a nuncheon.”

She laughed. “Dear Rose. She is always there when you need her and always knows what you need.”

They walked slowly, hand in hand, up the hill to the oak tree, and did not speak for a few moments, while he spread out a blanket and she opened the basket. They ate in silence for a few moments, but neither had very much appetite.

After a few minutes more, she said, “Robert, I—”

And at the same time, he said, “Do you remember—”

He laughed, but she brought his hand to her breast and clutched it with both of hers. “No, let me. I’m the one who must take the next step.”

He raised one eyebrow questioningly.

“Rose told me so.”

“Ah, I see.”

“But she was right. Dearest, I don’t want to remember anymore. I want to look forward and forget the past—or at least the past when I behaved so stupidly. I am ashamed to think of it. Please say you forgive me.”

“It seems to me that I’ve already said that. I don’t know what there is to forgive, for everything you have said and done was because you are you, and I cannot—despite the exasperation you have caused me!—want to change you. But if you want to be pardoned, I forgive you freely.”

She smiled and relaxed her grip on his hand. “Rose said something like that….” She frowned slightly, remembering. “She said I should not wait for someone else to assure me that I deserved to be happy, but that I should make up my own mind that I deserve it.”

“And have you?”

“I…I think so. I still feel undeserving and a little apprehensive about allowing myself to be optimistic, but…I should not have begged your pardon, Robert. You were right too. You have already forgiven me in more ways than I can count.”

“I only said you
need
not apologize, my love, not that I would not say anything you wanted me to say. None of it would be a lie. Nothing between us should ever be untrue.”

“How can you be so generous? I cannot be like you, however much I would wish it.”

“I’m no saint, Sabina. I have simply learned that there are some things in life that it is useless to waste emotion on, particularly negative emotions that wear one down and leave no place for happiness—which generally comes in by unexpected windows—to enter.”

She looked into his eyes. “It has come now, at last. I feel it when I am in your arms.”

He pulled her towards him and would not let her speak again for several minutes, but she no longer wanted to. She wanted to make up for the time she had wasted, the time she had not been with him, in his arms. He tasted so good, felt so warm, that she wished they were married now. The thought of Robert’s making love to her intoxicated her.

He pulled away suddenly. Her disappointment must have shown on her face, for he laughed shakily.

“Sabina, you do not know what you are asking.”

“Yes, I do,” she said, moving the remains of their nuncheon aside to move closer to him. Then she felt herself begin to lose her balance where the hill began to fall away, and he had to catch her, holding her fast against him.

“Take care, or we shall become the next casualties of the canal. I would be even harder to haul out than Lewis was.”

She moved back voluntarily at that. “That was
you
? Good heavens, I never guessed—! I should have, of course, but I never really looked at you that day. Why did you not tell me who you were?”

“Your mind was naturally on your brother, and I did not care to volunteer information which would further upset you. Also, I did not want you to remember me as having anything at all to do with Lewis’s misfortune. I was glad to see him well and happy at dinner that night, by the way.”

“That was in large part due to Georgina’s presence, I believe.” She explained about Georgina’s devotion to Lewis and their recent betrothal.

“I should have mentioned it to you last night, but I was so envious of their happiness that it would have been too painful a subject.”

“I saw Fletcher this morning,” he said, as he began packing things back into the picnic basket.

Surprised, she said, “When was this? I did not know you had come to the house yourself.”

“I asked him to meet me in the village. I thought it was time I asked formally for your hand.”

She laughed, envisioning the scene. “Was he pompous and did he make you feel suitably servile?”

“I would have tugged my forelock most obsequiously had it been necessary, but it was not. He was perfectly civil and agreeable to terms—perhaps he was eager to be rid of you.”

“I can believe that.”

“At any rate, my own brother is something of the same sort, all too conscious of his role as head of the family. Left to his own devices, I think he could be softened up a little, but Lavinia keeps him in line with her constant reminders of our consequence.”

They were silent for a moment, in mutual agreement that Lavinia would prove the hardest nut to crack in their continuing efforts to unite the two families.