Lord Dearborn's Destiny (11 page)

*
           
*
           
*

E
LLIE
CAUGHT
her breath in delight as the coach rounded the high brick wall to pass through open wrought-iron gates, affording the party their first glimpse of Huntington Park. The gravelled drive wound for nearly a quarter of a mile through manicured emerald lawns dotted with daisies and graced by towering oaks and flowering fruit trees, ending in a broad sweep before the loveliest house she had ever seen.
 

Of mellow stone, the original Tudor block of the main house had apparently been added to over the past three centuries according to the taste of the successive owners, resulting in a curious, but charming, blend of architectural styles. To Ellie, the graceful columns, towers and domes, the mullioned windows twinkling in the sunlight, gave the house an almost fairy-tale appearance.

"Gracious!" cried Mrs. Winston-Fitts on seeing the rambling mansion. "Rosalind, when you become mistress here, you simply
must
prevail upon Lord Dearborn to have this monstrosity torn down and replaced by a proper modern house. I vow, this place could give one nightmares!"

"Aunt Mabel, how can you say so?" exclaimed Ellie in surprise. "I think it absolutely beautiful!" Ignoring her aunt's quelling glance, she turned to her cousin. "Surely you wouldn't wish to destroy all this history simply to have a house like everyone else's, Rosie?"

Rosalind only murmured noncommittally that the house looked very pretty to her as it was.

Ellie thought that Rosalind had been unusually quiet, even for her, during the six hour drive from London, and she wondered at it. One would have thought that she would be the happiest of women after Lord Dearborn's near-declaration on his last night in Town. That evening, at a rout at Lady Allbeck's, he had danced three times with Miss Winston-Fitts, and her mother, at least, had been in raptures ever since. Ellie privately marvelled that she had not had an announcement put in the papers immediately.

She herself had enjoyed two dances with the Earl, the second being the last of the evening. Ellie felt that she was progressing nicely in her plan to relegate her feelings for Lord Dearborn to the realm of mere friendship. During both their dances, they had teased each other and spoken on numerous topics of general interest, discovering much in common, but not one lover-like glance or phrase had occurred on either side. Of course, she had never expected such from
him,
but she congratulated herself that
she
had betrayed no hint of her infatuation to either the Earl or any onlookers. It would never do for Rosalind to guess the truth!

Rosalind, however, had appeared to share none of her mother's delight at the singular compliment Lord Dearborn had paid her with that third dance. Really, it made Ellie wonder whether her cousin were not indifferent to the man after all— but of course if she were, she would never have consented to that fateful dance, which was tantamount to a public declaration of his intentions.

To distract herself from these less than gratifying recollections, Ellie gave her attention to the pastoral delights outside the carriage window. A shallow, pebbly stream ran alongside the drive for some way before turning across their path, at which point a charming blue-and-white bridge spanned the sparkling water. Ellie could not help but smile at the sight of a graceful mother swan, with nine little cygnets in tow, paddling towards them along the little brook.

Suddenly, they were there. The carriage halted before the imposing columned portico, and a footman leapt down to open the door and lower the steps. Breathing deeply of the fresh country air, Ellie followed the Winston-Fittses out onto the drive.

"I—I had no idea Huntington Park would be so
big,
" said Rosalind, looking about her in awe.

"Yes, my dear, think how grand that you will soon be mistress of it all," said her mother complacently, taking in the view of the lawns with a proprietary air. "Not that you will spend as much time here as in London, of course."

Ellie thought Rosalind looked more than a little frightened at the prospect and sought to soothe her. "Don't worry, dear. I don't doubt Lord Dearborn has an army of servants, under a very able housekeeper, to deal with all of the day-to-day workings of the place. And of course, there is his mother, the Countess."

As if on cue, the front door opened, and the Earl and his mother stood there to greet them. Lord Dearborn looked incredibly handsome in his dark blue riding coat and gleaming boots, but it was the Countess who drew all eyes. Swathed in violet and crimson silk, she wore rubies and amethysts at her throat, wrists and ears, while red and purple feathers swayed above her high-piled white hair, giving an impression of regal height to her diminutive frame.

"Welcome, welcome, Mr. and Mrs. Winston-Fitts!" she cried, coming forward with hands outstretched. "And
this
must be Rosalind!" She paused briefly to survey her son's chosen lady with apparent delight before turning to Ellie.

"My niece, Miss O'Day," supplied Mr. Winston-Fitts when his wife made no move to present her.

"Of course. Welcome, dear. Please, won't you all come inside? Hutchins will show you to your rooms, and you can rest and freshen up after your journey before joining us in the main parlour. Only two or three others have yet arrived, but I expect several more within the hour, as the weather is so fine. Indeed, we should have a delightful summer, as the oak was in leaf well before the ash this spring."

They all advanced into the vaulted front hall while she spoke, and when his mother paused for breath, Lord Dearborn took the opportunity to greet his guests. "Your presence enhances my home, Miss Winston-Fitts," he said to Rosalind after exchanging pleasantries with her parents and Ellie. "I hope you will be most comfortable here. If you should want for anything, you need only ask."

Rosalind avoided his eye during this speech, but Mrs. Winston-Fitts preened at the obvious implication that her daughter was to regard Huntington Park as her home.
 

"You are most gracious, my lord," she fairly twittered before Rosalind's silence could become noticeable. "I was just telling the others as we came up the drive that I have never seen such a lovely house in my life. I have no doubt that Rosalind will find everything perfectly to her liking, as shall we."

On that cordial note, the newly arrived guests repaired to the chambers prepared for them, taking interested notice of their surroundings as they went. Ellie thought the entry hall simply magnificent with its domed ceiling and marble floor of white and gold. The great staircase mounted to a sort of balcony, which ran along three sides at the first floor level, the numerous arches off it no doubt leading to various living chambers. It was all far grander than anything she had ever seen, quite eclipsing her grandfather's great house at Kerribrooke. Oddly, though, rather than being intimidated by such grandeur, she felt somehow at home — as though she belonged here.

Don't you only wish!
she chided herself as they mounted the curving staircase at the rear of the enormous hall, which surely did duty as a ballroom at times. Still, she could not completely dispel the comforting feeling that she had come home at last.

The feeling intensified when she was shown into the lovely bedchamber she was to occupy for the duration of the house party. Having peeked into Rosalind's room when the portly butler opened the door for her, intoning, "The Gold Room," she understood that most of the guest rooms must have such colour "themes." Rosalind's had been draped, carpeted and furnished in shades of gold, while hers was done in various shades of pink.

"What is this room called, pray?" she impulsively asked Hutchins as he turned away.

"The Rose Room," he replied imperturbably.

"It's beautiful. Thank you," she said. He merely bowed in response, but she thought she detected a slight softening in the rigid lines around his mouth.

Advancing into the room, she realized that the name was even more appropriate than she had first thought. Not only were the carpet, curtains and wallpaper rose coloured, but all had roses worked into their designs, as well. It would be easy to pretend one was nestled in the heart of a rose bower here, she thought.
 

Suddenly, it occurred to her to wonder who had assigned her this room. Could Lord Dearborn have done it? She vaguely recalled mentioning an affinity for flowers, and for roses in particular, to him during their last dance together. More likely, though, the Countess, or even the housekeeper, had been responsible for the allocation of guest rooms, she supposed. Whoever it had been, whether by design or not, she was grateful. It was a room she could feel comfortable in—a sanctuary.

As the day was warm and she was no longer in chilly, formal London, Ellie impulsively decided to change into one of the few dresses she had brought with her to the Winston-Fittses' and that her Aunt Mabel had been willing to let her keep. Her ice-blue flowered calico seemed perfect for a summer house party. It had always been one of her favourites and it fit her to perfection, even if it was not in the first stare of fashion. Her heart lighter than it had been in weeks— perhaps months —Ellie left her lovely room to discover whether the Winston-Fittses were ready to join the party.

Rosalind opened at once to her tap, forestalling the abigail who was still fussing with her hair.

"That will do, Simms, thank you," she said mildly, dismissing the woman. "Ellie, you look so cool and fresh! Why have I not seen that gown before?"

"Oh, it's just an old one I had from... before. I would never have dared wear it in Town, nor would Aunt Mabel have allowed me to, I am certain. How do you like your room?" Preferring not to talk about herself, Ellie turned to examine the shimmering golden carpets, curtains and furnishings that adorned Rosalind's chamber. Though it was not nearly as cosy and welcoming as her own, its size and aspect indicated that it was likely the best guest room.

"It's... it's very nice," admitted Rosalind with a surprising lack of enthusiasm. "I'm sure it was very kind of Lord Dearborn to let me have it." She glanced about her with a wistful smile.

"What's wrong, dear?" asked Ellie quickly. "Are you having second thoughts about marrying him?"

Rosalind's head came up. "Second thoughts? I never had first ones! Besides, he has not yet offered for me, though you and Mama keep talking as though he had. Perhaps he has no intention of doing so. But there, I'm sorry I snapped at you, Ellie. Let us go and see if Mama and Papa are ready to go down." She snatched up her gloves and preceded her startled cousin out of the room.

Mrs. Winston-Fitts grimaced when she saw Ellie's gown but said nothing, merely bidding her husband to make haste. By the time the group reached the ground floor, Ellie thought she had figured out the reason for Rosalind's uncharacteristic outburst a few minutes earlier. No doubt she was fearing that the Earl did not intend to propose, after all, which would surely account for an unsettled state of mind, especially if Rosalind loved him. And how could she not? Ellie did not believe for an instant that Rosie had any cause for worry, but she could certainly sympathize with her feelings —all too well, in fact!

They were directed to the main parlour by a footman, though the hum of voices emanating from the room would have shown them their way just as well. The large, beautifully appointed room opened directly off the great hall and echoed it in elegance, if not quite in size. The Countess rose to greet them upon their entry, much as she had when they first arrived, her face wreathed in smiles of apparently genuine delight.

"Ah, here you are! See, Forrest, the Winston-Fittses were not so tired. I told you they would not be, after such a short drive on so fine a day. Let me present the others here to you. This is Sir William and Lady Fenwick, who live in the neighbourhood and who are dear friends." She indicated an enormously fat gentleman, who had struggled to his feet with no little effort and now swept them a surprisingly graceful bow. His wife, also of ample proportions, smiled and greeted them most graciously. Ellie felt herself warming to them at once.

The Countess continued, "This is my daughter Juliet, Lady Glenhaven, and her husband, Lord Glenhaven. Come, Teddy, you needn't be so stiff. I must have everyone at my little party feel as if they are among family." Ellie had to suppress a chuckle at Lady Dearborn's admonition to her son-in-law, for Lord Glenhaven had indeed executed an exceedingly stiff and formal bow at the introduction. At her words, however, both his body and his expression unbent, and he favoured them all with a very friendly smile.

"Sylvia's word is law here, you know," he said. "Welcome."
 

Glenhaven, a petite young woman with soft brown hair and eyes, shyly echoed her husband's greeting.

They had scarcely seated themselves before more guests arrived, a Mr. and Mrs. Willoughby and their two sons. As they lived nearby and would not be staying overnight at Huntington Park, there was no need for them to repair upstairs before greeting the others. John and Timothy Willoughby were handsome, fashionable young men in their early twenties who appeared delighted to make the acquaintance of Miss Winston-Fitts and Miss O'Day.

As introductions were made all round, Forrest had leisure to observe Rosalind as she interacted with the others. Their week's separation had not dimmed her beauty in the least, he was pleased to note. If anything, being deprived of her company for a time made him appreciate looking at her all the more. He decided not to hurry her into conversation, that the effect might last longer.

Surveying the other guests, his eye was caught by Miss O'Day. She looked devilishly fetching in that summery blue gown, he thought. Really, she was not so plain after all. He was seized with a sudden desire to hear her musical laugh again.

"If I were to arrange a few tables of whist one evening, do you suppose Mrs. Winston-Fitts would allow your uncle to play?" he said quietly, moving to her side.