Elisabeth Kidd (26 page)

“Lady Kimborough, it was good of you to see me,” she said, forcing some measure of warmth into her voice.

Lavinia took her hand and shook it briefly, but did not ask Sabina to sit down again. She too remained standing, rigidly erect, apparently attempting to overcome her disadvantage of height by sternness of manner.

“What brings you to Ashtonbury Abbey, Lady Sabina?” she enquired haughtily.

“I wished to—to apologize for any offense I may have given on the occasion of our last meeting.”

“The apology is somewhat belated,” Lavinia said, “and it is not yours to make. I do not see your brother coming to call.”

Sabina was rapidly losing the resolution she had willed herself to maintain. She bit back a retort and remembered that she had intended to display a positive attitude.

“I’m sure he will wish to call shortly. Now that I see the Abbey, I am sorry I have delayed so long myself. It is an… impressive home. You must be very proud of it.”

Lady Kimborough nodded, but did not unbend.

“Did you choose the furnishings yourself? I imagine most of them must be family heirlooms, but this carpet, for example, is charmingly bright and modern.”

“Richard chose that,” Lavinia said, looking down at the object of her scorn with displeasure.

“Oh.” Sabina thought she had better go on with her prepared speech. Her extemporaneous remarks were apparently doomed to be received with displeasure.

“I wished also to give you—that is, to return something you believe—something that may have mistakenly found its way to Bromleigh Hall,” she said.

She drew from her pocket a velvet case and opened it. Inside was the miniature of “Lady S.”

Lavinia stared at it, and it was a moment before she said, with no noticeable diminution of hauteur, “I do not understand—are you conceding that it is ours, after all?”

“I am prepared to admit there may have been an error made in the past, and I wish to make amends. Even if its provenance is never proved, I should like you to have it as a token of—as a piece offering, if you will. I assure you, my brother shares my sentiments. We both hope that we may even begin to think of the lady as belonging to both families, in a way.”

Sabina’s words sounded resentful to her own newly sensitized ears, as if she were making this gesture under protest. She had not intended to appear so, and despite her insinuation that Fletcher had given his blessing to her mission, no one knew she had come but Dulcie, in whom she had confided and who had told her she was sure it would be all right with the family if she gave the miniature to the Ashtons. It had been entirely her idea to come. Still, Lady Kimborough’s disinclination to be receptive was making it difficult in the extreme to finish what she had come to say.

She was given a reprieve, and then a reward—as she saw it later, thanking providence that her efforts to be good had been recognized—when just then Lord Kimborough banged his walking stick against the half-opened door and put his head into the room.

“Lavinia, what are you doing—oh, Lady Sabina! I beg your pardon. No one told me you were here.”

He shot a mildly accusatory glance at his wife, who shrugged. “I thought you were still at the stables,” she offered half-heartedly.

“Haven’t you sent for some refreshment for our guest? Why are both you ladies standing? Dear me, this will not do!” He came into the room, laying his stick against the wall and hastily removing his hat to reveal fair hair in some disarray. “Lady Sabina, please do sit down—no, not there, this armchair is more comfortable.”

Sabina sank gratefully onto the chair he held for her. Lady Kimborough remained standing for a moment more, then appeared to come to a decision and said, “I shall see about some tea and cakes.”

As she reached the door, her husband called out, “In twenty minutes, my dear, if that is satisfactory. I should like to chat with our guest for a little.”

He patted Sabina’s shoulder and then sat down himself in another chair. Sabina thought she would have found his behavior annoyingly condescending at any other time, but compared to the countess, the earl was the model of a gracious host.

“Did you come to see Robert, my dear? I am sorry he is not at home, as I suppose Lavinia has told you.”

Sabina tried not to smile. “I knew he was from home,” she said, explaining no more than that. Not wishing to complain of any lack of forthrightness in his wife’s reception, she told Richard that she had stopped by unannounced.

“I came only to return something to Lady Kimborough which was—misplaced.”

She glanced at the table where the countess had laid the miniature, and the earl’s eyes followed hers.

“By jove, that’s—yes, it is. The infamous miniature! Really, Lady Sabina, it is too good of you. We have no proof that it is ours, you know, despite Lav—our wish that it may prove to be. It was not necessary to—”

“Lady Kimborough wished to have it, and we—I wished to try somehow to resolve that old, and possibly senseless, quarrel. My father desired it also, you know, and I have always tried to carry out his wishes. I would not like to think I had failed in this last request of his.”

“I see.” Richard gazed at her thoughtfully for a moment but then said only, “Well, what do you think of Ashtonbury Abbey, Lady Sabina? I believe you have not visited here before.”

“It is very—stately.”

He laughed at that. “Yes, you and Robert must agree on many things, for you certainly do on that head. He finds the old pile oppressive.”

“Does he?”

“Indeed. Oh, Robin liked the place well enough when he was a boy, as did I. There is no fun like hiding in suits of armor, you know, or skulking about in the minstrel’s gallery in the dead of night hoping to surprise an ancestral ghost. But I suspect Robin was secretly relieved that I was the eldest and would have to live here forever. After he came out of the army, especially, he felt confined here. He would sleep outdoors if he could, and in the stables, I daresay, in winter, and he is rarely inside on fine days such as this. But I think it more likely he will build his own home someday. Something like your father’s estate at Carling, perhaps—cosy and a great many windows.”

Sabina stared at him. How did he know about Carling? He was either much more perceptive than she had thought or he had made a lucky guess.

At that moment the tea things arrived. The countess did not return, however, and Sabina began to think she would have to put off convincing her to relax her hostility, which would doubtless increase when she learned about the elopement. Perhaps the earl would prove an ally in that regard.

He rambled cheerily while they drank their tea, dredging up stories from his and his brother’s boyhood to put her at ease, and he did succeed in making her feel comfortable again. “Robin would not thank me for repeating any of this to you,” he confided, “so do me the kindness not to tell him I did.”

Sabina was searching for some response that would not give away their secret, when he put down his cup, clapped his hands on his knees, and said heartily, “Well, what do you say, my dear Lady Sabina—may I take you on a tour of the Abbey? Although it is not as elegant and modern a house as Bromleigh Hall, it too has its charms.”

Since the earl had obligingly undergone a similar tour of her own home, Sabina could scarcely refuse and smilingly accepted. In any case, she would be interested to see more of the place where Robert had grown up—practically under her nose, so to speak, although she had not known him when they were children. She was beginning to think that a great loss.

He escorted her first into the Great Hall, by which she had entered the house, and paused to direct her attention to the dome, which she had not earlier noticed.

“I am told that it is a very fine example of baroque architecture,” he informed her, “but as I told your esteemed sister-in-law, I am a poor judge of artistic merit from any period. I like it because the style and color of paint makes it seem very much as if one is looking right through the ceiling to the sky. Don’t you agree?”

Sabina gazed upwards and thought that indeed, were it not for the cherubs peeking mischievously from around the perimeter of the dome, the clouds and sky were quite realistic. She smiled and said she saw what he meant.

“Our old nurse fancied the second cherub to the left of the pinkest cloud to be the image of Robin as a babe,” Richard went on. “As for myself, I remember him only as very red in the face—possibly because I was four years older and thought him an intrusive little brat when he entered what had been my well-ordered personal domain.”

Sabina laughed at that and said that doubtless her brothers had thought the same of her unexpected arrival in the family, long after the last of them had joined it, particularly as they had no notion she would turn out to be a female, a species with which they had had little contact and no experience.

“You understand how it was, then. I am glad to say that I see less of gap between my own sons—have you met Robin’s nephews, by the way?—but they are only two years apart in age and appear to be great friends. David is the more intrepid of the two, but I believe that is because he feels himself safe in Geoffrey’s protection.”

Sabina said she regretted not yet having met the earl’s sons and wondered if she might suggest some way to bring the younger generation of both families together. That was something she and Robert must do when they were married. It was surprising to her to contemplate how full her life would be when she was married. Why had she not thought of these things before? Why had she not realized that marriage would free her, not bind her?

It was not long before it became clear that there was a theme to the earl’s route through his home—he was showing it to her as a part of Robert’s life that she knew nothing about. They went up to the large room under the eaves which had been their nursery, then to the miniature library where they had been given their lessons by a series of tutors, all of whom, according to Richard, had favored his brother.

“How vexatious for you,” Sabina said.

“It quite often was,” he admitted. “But at those times, I reminded myself—and Robin as well, often in not the most cordial terms—that I was The Heir and it did not matter whether I knew the properties of the most common metals or was on intimate terms with all the Roman emperors, for I would always be the eldest son and therefore always the next earl—although he did not hesitate to point out, when he was old enough to understand the distinction, that I was only the heir
apparent
.”

Sabina smiled and studied Lord Kimborough more carefully. He was a handsome man, although a little less tall and a little less fair than his younger brother; his manner was more reserved, even aloof, yet she could scarcely accuse him of being unfriendly, particularly in contrast to his wife.

Had she met him under other circumstances, she might not have supposed him to be Robert’s brother, and she had not given him much thought as a possible friend either. He was cordial, although not gregarious, and she had the impression that although he wished her to like him, he would unbend only so far to earn her regard. She would have to take him on his own terms, and she found herself unexpectedly willing, even eager, to do so.

It even occurred to her, a little surprisingly, that he might turn out to be the confidant she had been wishing for, someone to whom she could turn when she was puzzled or troubled about her relationship with Robert. She was not yet ready to confide completely in him, but this oddly biographical tour of Ashtonbury Abbey seemed to indicate that the possibility existed for the future.

Perhaps, for now, she could at least tell him what she had not said to the countess, the last words of her speech that she had not been able to utter. As they gazed at the view from the room in one of the remoter wings, where Robert had preferred to stay on his early leaves from the army, she broached the subject.

“Lord Kimborough, there is something—”

“Oh, please call me Richard, my dear. If we are to be related, we must not stand upon such formal terms.”

She stared at him, astonished. “Related?”

He smiled. “Forgive me. I am always blundering in where angels fear to tread, but I do know something of the case between you and Robin, and I assure you, there is nothing I would like more than to see him happy. And I am certain, now that I have come to know you a little better, that you will make him happy.”

She blushed despite herself. Robert had apparently not revealed their engagement, but had everyone but herself been so certain all along that it would come about?

“Well, then—Richard. There is something else I wished to say about the miniature.”

She paused for a moment, looking down at her hands.

“Yes?” he prompted.

“I said to Lady Kimborough that I hoped the lady in the miniature might belong in some measure to both our families—as my sister-in-law Dulcie does.”

His smile faded slightly at that, but he said nothing, so she went on, “And as I hope I shall be—one day. Indeed, I shall—should be honored to be a part of your family.”

His smile returned. “The honor, my dear, would be entirely ours.”

He kissed her cheek then and, in perfect accord, they returned to the hall, where Sabina was just taking her leave when Lady Kimborough made a sudden reappearance.

Both Sabina and the earl turned towards her in astonishment, for there was a look of undisguised fury on her face that imagination balked at interpreting.

“My dear,” Richard said soothingly, “whatever is the matter? I had hoped you would come to bid our guest good day—”

“I most certainly will say not good day, but good-bye!” the countess declared, scarcely able to rein in her anger. “I trust she will never call here again. I will certainly not open my door to her ever again!”

“Lavinia!” the earl exclaimed, appalled.

Sabina stepped forward to face whatever accusation Lady Kimborough wished to throw at her, but she was not prepared for what she heard.

“Lady Kimborough,” Sabina began, surprised to find her voice level and her own temper in check, “whatever it is, I’m sure you must be mistaken. What have I done to upset you?”