Fenella Miller (11 page)

The first trickle of doubt brought a sour taste into his mouth. Perhaps the old gardener would know where they had gone, Jack and Mary spent a deal of time with him. He strode through the house and round to the stable yard. William came up to him, he did not look happy.

"Mrs Reed left here in your carriage with the children and Tilly, Tom Coachman drove and Bert accompanied him, they returned without them. They went to her family home." He fiddled with his cap. "May I speak frankly, sir?"

"Get on with it. Whatever you have discovered I wish to know it immediately."

"It seems that Master Jack was in the yard and told the stable boy, who has become a particular friend of his, that Mrs Reed had been very upset to find out…" he cleared his throat and ran his hand around his neck cloth as if it had grown too tight. "Master Jack said Mrs Reed had been upset to discover you had been the cause of his accident."

Rupert's happiness fell in ashes round his feet. He should have told Emma at the time, had known one day Jack would tell his mother whose fault it had been. She had left him, and he didn't blame her. He had all but killed her precious son and then been too much of a coward to own up. Small wonder she had changed her mind and run away.

He needed to be on his own, away from sympathetic faces, he would lock himself in his study as he used to do until he felt able to face the world again. He was sorely tempted to demand a decanter of brandy but refrained. Although his beloved had gone, she had changed him, and in her honour he would not slip back into his reprehensible ways.

Maybe she would find it in her heart to forgive him eventually, might come back one day. He would be waiting for her, she would find the house immaculate, the grounds also; all improvements he had planned to his estate, on the farms, must still go ahead. Maybe he would get in that Capability Brown fellow to landscape the gardens.

Weighed down by his grief, almost blinded by tears for what might have been, he stumbled back to his sanctuary and collapsed, head in hands, at his desk.

* * * *

"Are we nearly there yet, Mama. It has been an age since you said we would be there soon."

"Jack, my dear, can you see those tall trees through the window?" The little boy nodded. "They are the boundary to your grandfather's estate. We shall be turning into the drive at any moment. By the time Tilly has wiped your face and straightened your garments we will be there."

Emma checked her bonnet was straight, the pretty blue ribbons neatly tied beneath her chin, that her pelisse was unwrinkled and her matching, half-kid boots unmarked. Scrambling about in a meadow with the children after the picnic could well have mired them. Satisfied she was neat, that in her new ensemble she would make a good impression on the man who valued money above family ties, she smiled at her children.

"Remember, both of you, you must be on your best behaviour at all times. Your grandfather is very poorly, that is why we are here."

"Shall we be going home soon, Mama?" Jack asked plaintively.

Mary scowled at him. "We cannot go back to Stansted Manor until either our grandfather recovers or he dies." She stared earnestly at Emma. "We will have to stay for several weeks whatever happens, won't we? I hope that our new papa will come soon to keep us company."

"As do I, my love. I have explained it all to him in my letter, I'm sure that he will be with us by the end of the week. He was not due to return from London for at least three days, which means he should be able to join us by Saturday. I'm sure we will all be counting the hours."

A prune faced housekeeper was waiting to greet them at the top of the well remembered steps. It had been more than twelve years since she had set foot in this house, it had never been a happy place for her, and she had vowed all those years ago not to return under any circumstances.

"Mrs Reed, the master asks that you visit him immediately. The children are to accompany you."

Emma was allowed no time to refresh herself, to get her bearings, but was ushered directly to the rear of the house where she remembered there was a suite of rooms once used by an elderly relative. The housekeeper curtsied and held open the door.

"Come in, Emma my child, you are a sight to gladden an old man's eyes."

To her astonishment her father, looking remarkably robust for a man about to meet his maker, greeted her warmly. She was lost for words, she had been brought here under false pretences and did not know whether to be glad her parent was not dying or angry at his deception.

Jack rushed forward and stood, hands on hips, staring at his grandfather. "Mama was supposed to be married to our new papa, she came here instead. But you are not on your deathbed at all."

"Hush, Jack, you must not speak…"

"Emma, let him alone. He is quite correct to castigate me. I beg your pardon, all of you, but I could think of nothing else that would bring you to my side. I had no idea where you were, thought you lost to me for ever. I have regretted your departure without my blessing every day since you left."

It was only then that she realised he was unable to stand, he was sitting in an upright chair with a rug over his knees. "I am glad that you did so, Papa, I should not have left it so long. I was young and foolish, I'm different now." She took Mary's hand and gently urged Jack closer. "Allow me to introduce you to your grandchildren, this is Mary and this Jack."

Mary curtsied and Jack bowed, her father clapped his hands in delight. "They are quite delightful, a credit to you. Now, children, I have had Cook prepare a feast for you in the breakfast parlour. I seem to remember that children are partial to sugar fancies and hot scones." He waved at the door. "Run along with your pretty nursemaid, I wish to speak privately to your mama."

Tilly, who had been waiting by the door, hurried forward and took the children's hands, the thought of cakes and other sweet treats was enough to send them off happily. Emma took the chair beside him.

He waited until they were alone and then looked shrewdly at her. "Young Jack said something about your coming here spoiling your wedding plans. Is that true?"

"Partially so, I am but recently betrothed to Mr Bucknall, he has ridden to London to get a special licence. We were to be married on his return. I wrote him a letter explaining where I am, I am hoping he will join us here."

"Excellent, you can be married here. I missed your first nuptials, it will be a wonderful thing to be able to witness your second. My dear girl, what a long time it has been since I saw you. Why is it that we never know how precious something is until it is lost to us?"

She reached over and took his wrinkled hand in hers. "You were right to be angry, I behaved disgracefully and regretted my impulsiveness, the marriage was not a success. However, my union brought me the most precious things in my life so I shall never regret that it happened. Can we put the past behind us and start afresh?"

He nodded vigorously, then wiped the tears from his cheeks. "Tell me everything that has happened to you these past years. Also, I wish to know everything about your future husband. I hope that he is a sounder choice than the first."

"He is the most wonderful man, I cannot wait for you to meet him. I shall arrange for the carriage to return, I cannot keep his coachman and groom with me."

* * * *

The next few days were filled with laughter and happiness. She could never remember her father so jolly, he was already in the thrall of his grandchildren and was spoiling them outrageously. It was as if he was trying to make up what he hadn't done for her.

Saturday soon arrived and she was on edge all day waiting for Rupert to appear. When he didn't she was anxious, but not unduly so. He must have been delayed in London, he would be with her very soon. A further two days and still no word. She could think of only one explanation, that he had changed his mind and wished the relationship to be at an end.

How could she have mistaken him? She had believed him to be as committed as she to their relationship. There must be another explanation, she would not entirely abandon hope until a full week had passed without word.

Rupert remained in his study unable to sleep, or eat and drink, until the day of Foster's funeral. It had taken longer to arrange this as the rector had been struck down by an attack of gout. He must pull himself together, his appearance at the funeral was essential. He owed it to the old man who had served him so loyally, remained at his post when all others had deserted him.

He gave the male staff permission to attend, and had ordered ale and cider to be made ready in the barn to drink the departed's health. Refreshments were also provided, he thought it a good thing to make it a celebration, rather than a time of sorrow. Tavistock was to be there in his stead; he would attend the service and committal and then return to the house.

His nightmares had returned, but this time they were not of his wife and child but of Jack drowning in the lake. He had returned to his chair in the study, sitting there at least he could doze without fear of horrific dreams. He was lost without Emma, like one of his ship's drifting rudderless, he could not focus on the present, could not visualise a future without her and her wonderful children.

Something drew him to the butler's rooms; the young man who had taken over the position had not yet moved down from the attics. No doubt he thought it would be disrespectful to do so until after the funeral. The bed was neatly made, the room smelled fresh, one would not have known there had been a death in here a few days before.

There was still evidence of Foster's life, his faded coat hung on the back of the door. He had been buried in his new outfit, no one had yet removed his other possessions. Rupert was about to leave when something in the pocket of the jacket caught his eye. He dipped in and pulled out a letter, it was addressed to him. He recognized the handwriting, it was Emma's.

He tore it open and scanned the contents. His knees folded beneath him and he sunk on to the bed. She had not left him, her father was on his deathbed and she had gone to be at his side. She begged him to join her as soon as possible. There was no mention of Jack's accident, it was full of concern for him and how much she would miss him until he was at her side.

He leapt to his feet, rejuvenated. He could see at once how this misunderstanding had occurred, Foster had taken the letter and then died before he could pass it on. Another missive must have arrived from Essex, knowledge of this had also died with the old man.

William would be at the wake, he must fetch him. Emma would think he had deserted her, he must get to her side and put this matter right as soon as possible. The noise of the jollity could be heard as he burst out of the side door. There were so many people there, villagers, tenants as well as all his staff that it was impossible to pick out his valet.

"Mr Bucknall, are you looking for me?"

"William, good man. Mrs Reed left me a letter after all, I have just found it in Foster's coat. She was called away to visit her dying father, we must leave immediately. I should have been there yesterday."

He would ride, but Tom must bring the carriage with his luggage. It would also be needed for when they came home. He patted his waistcoat, he knew he was grinning like a simpleton, but he cared not. He had his licence and the rings next to his heart, he would take them with him. It was just possible they might be able to marry before her father died; if they didn't, he knew Emma would insist on waiting several months until they tied the knot.

If that was what she wished, then he would acquiesce. As long as he knew that, one day, she would be his to cherish and love for the rest of her life, then he could bide his time. Tavistock appeared at the door to his study.

"Is there anything you wish me to do in your absence, Mr Bucknall?"

"Carry on as we agreed. No, there is one thing you can do. Have my chambers refurbished, they are not fit for a lady to share. Mrs Reed has already chosen the fabrics and wall coverings for her own apartment, use the same for mine."

Tavistock looked startled but said nothing. Rupert chuckled to himself as he mounted his huge gelding, no doubt he would be the only gentleman in England with flowery bed hangings and birds and suchlike on his walls. It mattered nothing to him how his room was decorated as long as his darling girl was there to share it with him.

* * * *

The weather was especially clement, Emma had arranged for meals to be served on the terrace overlooking the park. Her father had a bath chair in which his valet could wheel him around. Jack thought this an excellent game, and frequently she heard him laughing as the unfortunate manservant was obliged to push both his master and her son around the place.

She was making every effort to appear sanguine, not show her anxiety to her children or her father. He kept asking her when Rupert would arrive, she said nothing of her fear that he would never come, she had no wish to spoil the festive atmosphere. Seeing her father enjoying her company, and that of her children, meant at least that they would have a happy home to live in if Rupert did not come to claim her.

Papa retired early. The children, exhausted by a day spent picnicking outside and paddling in the shallow river that skirted the park, had also gone to bed. Emma had no appetite, was obliged to make an effort when she was with her family, but as she was on her own tonight she sent word to the kitchen that tonight she did not require dinner to be brought to her on the terrace.

It was still early, another hour or two of light before the sun set and the nightingales began their night-time chorus. She sat contemplating the vista, although the grounds were not anywhere as extensive as those of Stansted, they were very pretty. This was something she had not fully appreciated when she was living here. Her days had been over full running the household because her father had been too miserly to employ a housekeeper. There had been little time to sit and enjoy her surroundings.

The terrace was at the rear of the house, the front faced north west, the drive ran straight as an arrow to the gatehouse. At first she had spent much of her time watching this ribbon of gravel, now she was almost resigned to being abandoned and no longer watched for Rupert's arrival.