Melinda Hammond (11 page)

Returning to the great hall around noon, my lady learned that Aldringham had gone to the stables and would not be back until dinner. The afternoon wore on, and the dinner hour approached. The earl had still not appeared and Melissa began to feel a little anxious. She had passed the time by visiting the gardens, escorted by the gardener, an ancient who gave the impression of having been at Russetts since it was built centuries earlier. Having promised to speak to the earl and authorize extra help for the old man, Melissa set him to work improving the old shrubbery, where years of neglect had allowed the bushes to straggle over the secluded paths. When at last Melissa came indoors, she could not settle and on the pretext of inspecting the library she found the opportunity to gaze out towards the sweeping drive. The large clock on the mantelpiece chimed ponderously. Six o’clock. Lady Aldringham was about to summon Borster and ask him to put dinner back another hour when she saw two riders approaching. Staring out of the window, she recognized one of them as her husband and felt a surge of relief, but this was swiftly followed by apprehension: if the earl was bringing a guest for dinner there would be little chance to make up their quarrel, and it would not be polite for her to disappear to her room. She waited in the library until she heard the two gentlemen enter the hallway, then drawing a deep, steadying breath she went out to greet them.

Chapter Ten

The savage scowl on her husband’s face warned Melissa that she had not been forgiven. With a sinking heart, she schooled her features into a smile.

‘So you are returned at last, sir. We had feared you lost.’

‘Bumped into an old acquaintance.’ He indicated his companion with a wave of his arm. ‘Let me present Mr Vernon Courtenay to you, my love. Mr Courtenay is staying at Croxham Hall, a few miles from here. I’ve invited him to join us for dinner.’

If Aldringham had been hoping to disconcert his wife he was disappointed. She curtsied to the gentleman, saying pleasantly, ‘Indeed sir, we should be honoured by your company. I will instruct Borster to set another place.’

The two gentlemen made their way into the library, Aldringham calling for brandy as they disappeared into the room. Melissa gave her instructions to Borster then hurried to her room to change her dimity robe for an evening gown of red damask. After her maid had rearranged her hair, a critical glance in the mirror told Melissa she was ready to go down to dinner: there was nothing Aldringham could fault in her appearance.

Taking a few deep breaths to steady her jangled nerves, she made her way downstairs, hoping that Aldringham would not prove difficult. As she entered the library she paused, uncertain of her welcome. Aldringham glanced up from his chair by the fire and called to her carelessly.

‘Come in, my dear! I have been telling Mr Courtenay how much you like this place.’

‘It is indeed a fine building, ma’am. One of the finest in the country, I am told!’ declared that gentleman with enthusiasm.

‘Yes, I find it quite delightful, sir, and set in such beautiful country.’

Mr Courtenay took her hand and kissed it gallantly.

‘Aye, Oxford’s a fine county, and your presence here enhances its charm, my lady. A diamond in a verdant setting!’

Not at all pleased by this term of address, Melissa firmly drew away her hand.

The earl laughed. ‘Diamond! More of a ruby in that dress, Courtenay, surely!’

Melissa turned away to hide a smile. She would not let Aldringham see that she was amused by his banter, and she guessed shrewdly that they had both been imbibing freely. The announcement that dinner was awaiting them forestalled any further gallantries from Mr Courtenay and Melissa could not be sorry. The gentleman was too familiar for her liking, and that Aldringham should sit back and smile at his friend’s attempts to flirt with his countess was maddening. She supposed it was his way of punishing her and she determined not to lose her temper. During the meal, Melissa studied their guest, trying to perceive what her husband could find to like in such a man. Courtenay looked to be somewhat younger than his host, and his round florid face was flushed with drink. Yet despite a tendency to corpulence, Melissa thought it likely that he was attractive to the fairer sex, although her personal taste was for a much darker gentleman. His conversation was modish, if commonplace, and since he agreed with everything she or the earl might say she was soon heartily bored with his company. Stealing a glance at her husband, Melissa was sure he shared her sentiments. Had she not been at odds with him, she would have felt a little sorry for her husband when she left them to their brandy at the end of the meal.

She retired to the great hall, the main room of the house. It had remained almost in its original state: the large stone fireplace was emblazoned with the coat of arms of some distant ancestor and the tall mullioned windows which overlooked the untended lawns were framed by thick velvet curtains, tied back to allow in the warm evening sun. Beside the door leading to the screen passage was a full suit of armour, a reminder of much older times. Melissa preferred to think of the hall being used for feasting and dancing rather than fighting. She glanced around the room, wondering why she had not noticed before the collection of ancient swords and pistols fastened to the panelling. Obviously, some former Earl of Aldringham had collected these items together and thought them worthy of display. Melissa found much to interest her in the collection: her father had been a keen sportsman, and when his monetary obligations forced him to quit London for the quiet country life he would while away the time instructing his only child in the arts of shooting and fencing, as though she had been the son he had longed for. It was a memory of her father that she had kept hidden deep within her, the memory of a much-loved friend and companion whose demise she had found almost unbearable. To cope with her loss, Melissa had schooled herself to think of Reginald Langham only as the fashionable buck whose reckless gambling had lost a fortune and left his daughter penniless.

The sound of voices brought her back to the present and she moved towards the sofa, hoping to observe her husband’s mood more clearly as he entered. That the earl had found an escape from boredom in his brandy was obvious from the glitter in his eye and the almost imperceptible slur in his speech. She sensed his sullen mood even before he spoke and it was an ordeal for her to remain calm against the thinly veiled taunts of one gentleman, and the unwanted attentions of the other.

After what seemed an eternity Mr Courtenay took his leave, somewhat unsteadily, and Melissa escaped to her room. Once there she sank down on to a stool while her maid brushed out her hair. Moments later, the earl entered unannounced. Taking one look at his surly, adorable face, Melissa thought it prudent to dismiss her maid. She took up the brush and continued to pull it through the dark tresses, smoothing out the curls until her hair hung in a silky curtain over her shoulders.

‘I trust Mr Courtenay is not travelling too far - I fear he was not quite sober.’

‘Had you been a little kinder to him, my lady, perhaps he would have taken less comfort from the wine.’

She stared at him in astonishment.

‘You are joking me, I hope! It took all my efforts to keep him at a proper distance.’

‘Aye, that is the one thing you excel in, it would seem.’

Angered, Melissa pulled the brush through her hair with vigorous, jerky movements. ‘Is this your way to punish me, my lord? Inviting your ill-bred friend to torment me?’

‘Oh be damned to your prudish ways! I will give you fair warning, madam, that I have invited Courtenay and a party of friends to dine here tomorrow, and I expect you to receive them with at least a semblance of hospitality!’

On these words he flung himself out of the room, leaving his wife sitting rigidly before her mirror, her eyes staring blankly before her. She felt sick at heart; she had never seen Aldringham in this mood before. Melissa was conscious that he was trying to hurt her, for what reason she was not sure, except that she had angered him by recoiling from his advances. She rose, a vague idea in her brain that she should find him and make her peace. At the door she stopped, realizing it was already too late, since he had chosen to humiliate her. Well, he should not have the satisfaction of seeing how much he had hurt her! She walked resolutely back to her bed, telling herself she would consider the situation, but deep in her heart she knew that when the morning arrived, another sleepless night would have solved nothing.

* * * *

Melissa rose early and joined Mrs Borster in sorting through the linen cupboard. Aldringham had departed before breakfast, and she had been spared the necessity of accounting for the dark rings around her eyes. The housekeeper, enquiring if my lady was quite well, was given to understand that it was a headache, but the darkling look she gave Melissa informed her that the explanation was not fully accepted.

The earl had not returned by noon and after a solitary luncheon, Melissa went out to the stables. Upon enquiry, the groom told her that the earl had ridden out on Vulcan, the spirited black stallion he had brought with him from Bath. Melissa put her hand up to smooth the velvet nose of the one remaining horse, a big grey mare that nuzzled her hand looking for tidbits.

‘And this one?’

‘Old Juno is rarely ridden now, ma’am. She was his lordship’s choice for many a year, but she ain’t really up to his weight now.’

‘Jenkins, is there a lady’s saddle that would fit her?’

‘My lady?’

‘Do you have a lady’s saddle here?’

Jenkins scratched his head.

‘Well, there is one, yes. Belonged to the old countess, and ain’t been used since.’

‘But you could use it on Juno?’

‘I could ask my lord . . . .’

‘The earl isn’t here!’ Melissa interrupted him. ‘I want you to saddle up Juno for me.’

‘But she ain’t never carried a lady! What the earl will say—’

Melissa drew an impatient breath.

‘He will be more angry with you if you disobey me!’ she said imperiously. ‘I shall be back in twenty minutes. Have her ready for me.’

With that she went swiftly into the house to change into her olive-green riding habit. Its mannish cut showed her figure to perfection, but she did not waste her time wishing that the earl could see her. She pinned the matching hat firmly over her curls and hurried back to the stables, where she found the grey saddled and ready for her.

The groom looked far from happy.

‘That saddle’s not been used for many a year, my lady . . . .’

‘It will suffice.’

The groom led the mare to the mounting block, which was only just high enough for Melissa to scramble herself into the saddle. The mare fidgeted and sidestepped beneath her and she spent a few moments getting used to the animal: she had not ridden at all since she had left Whiston Hall in the spring, and Juno was very different from the little mare she was used to ride. As she worked to control the mare, Melissa wondered if it was wise to ride out alone on such a strong, unknown horse.

‘My lady, p’rhaps it would be best to wait until the earl returns . . . .’

The groom’s anxious mutter decided her.

‘Not at all. Don’t worry, I shall not go far from the house.’ She put up her chin, gathering up the reins. ‘If his lordship returns, you may tell him I will be back before dinner.’

She turned the horse and rode out towards the open parkland surrounding the house. The mare pranced and tossed her head, displaying all the signs of an animal in need of exercise. Melissa held her in check until they had cleared the drive, but once on the soft turf of the park she let the mare have her head, galloping headlong across the grass. She was careful not to tire her mount, and slowed to a walk as they entered a belt of trees on the western edge of the park. She patted the glossy neck.

‘So you were once Aldringham’s favourite: I’d wager you were swift when you were younger.’ The mare put back her ears, as if listening to Melissa’s soft murmur. ‘Now he keeps you as his pensioner, does he? You are more fortunate than I, for he still holds you in affection.’ Melissa leaned forward to pull at the mare’s ears. ‘Don’t take any notice of me, Juno. I am being ridiculously tragic. We shall come about!’ She straightened, throwing back her head to feel the warmth of the sun on her face and throat. It was impossible to be unhappy in such a beautiful place. Emerging from the trees, she saw a long grassy avenue stretching out before her. ‘Well, Juno, let’s see what you can do!’

The mare needed no second bidding, and soon they were flying over the ground. After the initial burst of speed, the mare settled into an easy canter, and Melissa allowed the horse to set her own pace, content to ride wherever the animal might take her. For the first time in days, Melissa forgot her sorrows, enjoying the freedom of feeling the wind in her face.

* * * *

Melissa returned late in the afternoon, much refreshed by the exercise. The groom was relieved to see her, explaining that the earl’s party had arrived some time ago. He nodded his head towards the dusty chaise in the yard.

‘And did you tell the earl where I was?’ She tried to sound unconcerned.

‘No, my lady. He bein’ busy with his guests an’ all.’

When Melissa entered the house she could hear the noisy chatter and laughter coming from the great hall. She was about to enter when a discreet cough made her pause. Mrs Borster was standing in the doorway to the servants’ quarters. Melissa turned towards her, saying cheerfully, ‘What is it, Mrs Borster? Has the cook walked out at the news of so many unexpected guests?’

The elderly housekeeper drew back and, intrigued, Melissa followed her along the passage to the kitchen. She nodded at Borster, who was sitting by the window, engaged in cleaning the earl’s carriage pistols.

‘Well, Mrs Borster, what is it you want to say to me?’

‘Well my lady, I thought perhaps you should know, before you join them.’ The older woman shifted her gaze. ‘The party isn’t what you might call … seemly.’