The Body on the Beach (The Weymouth Trilogy) (10 page)

Mr Berkeley could hardly contain his pleasure at this opportunity of showing Kathryn his home, and ran down the steps from the front door to meet them on the drive.
He must have been looking out for them.
Kathryn could
n
’
t help but smile at his enthusiasm. There was something so very engaging about it which she did not have the heart to try to quash.

‘Will you enjoy a ramble around the grounds, Mrs Miller?’ he asked, after taking her hand in both of his for a second. ‘I consider them quite stunning at the present, and in the sunshine they are guaranteed to look their best.’

Kathryn agreed that she should v
ery much like to look around his
grounds, and glanc
ed
across at Mrs Wright to check
whether she, too, was happy with the plan. Mrs Wright, however, had other ideas.

‘Well, you go off with Andrew, Mrs Miller, while I get myself sorted out inside. I shall see you in the saloon shortly, I’m sure.’

Kathryn was a little taken aback
. She was not sure whether she should allow
Mr Berkeley
to conduct the tour
alone, although (much to her chagrin) she found herself to be not entirely displeased.

‘My sister does not care to wander the grounds at present, Mrs Miller,’ he told her, offering her his arm so pointedly that she found it quite impossible to refuse. ‘Her eyes are drawn constantly to the shipwreck over there. It fills her with constant dread for her husband John.’

Kathryn stared out to where the masts of a great ship could clearly be seen, rising eerily out of the clear blue water not so very far away. It made her shudder.

‘I can understand that. I heard that there were very few survivors
even from a wreck so very close inland as this one. Should her husband be wrecked far out at sea it would
be the end of him, I expect. I’
m not at all surprised that she
would rather not
be reminded of the fact.’

Mr Berkeley guided her along the winding pathways that meandered through his
grounds. Everywhere were feature
s to delight – smart terraces, little hidden valleys, unexpected vistas opening up to the sea, stands of tropical timber, beds of bright spring flowers – and the constant swishing of the waves, mewing gulls and exuberant song birds providing their own special accompaniment to the beauty of the scene. It was very, very different from the almost dour environs of Sandsford House with its scuffy grasses, neglected beds and almost treeless terrain.

They sat down together on a little wooden bench amongst the trees, looking out towards the brilliant blue of the sea beyond.
It was some moments before they spoke again
, though Kathryn was constantly aware of his closeness to her. It made her feel uncomfortable, yet she
felt no desire at all to move away
.

‘Well, Mrs Miller – what do you think?’

‘What can I say? It is an absolute delight, Mr Berkeley. I particularly like the tropical plants and the way in which they frame the sea. I cannot suppose that I should be able to grow
anything like
such vegetation at Sandsford. We are so much more exposed to the wind.’

‘Then allow me to show you the orangery. It is full of exotic species – I hardly know what they are. I can claim none of the honours for any of it. My father and my brother were responsible for it all.’

She accompanied him back up the hillside, allowing him to give her a helping hand up the steepest part of the slope, and into the glass house adjoining Belvoir’s southern wall. Like her host, she knew nothing of exotic plants and could make no determination as to which were rare and which were common
. So
she admired them all equally
and enjoyed
the steamy warmth inside the building. It reminded her forcibly of summer.

‘This orangery provides a constant source of amusement for me, Mrs Miller. Knowing nothing of any of the plants, I am able to fill many a spare hour in going over them and guessing what fruit might appear. I have seen no sign of anything yet, you understand, though I live forever in hope of one day emerging with my very own pineapple or peach.’

‘But does your gardener not instruct you on the matter?’

‘Well, he has attempted to do so, I must admit. But I make a sorry student. I find it more fun to discover it for myself. I should be disappointed should I find the whole building restricted to boring old apples, plums and pears. As it is, my imagination is limited only by my very imperfect knowledge of
all of
the fruits that are actually available in the world.’

‘I am afraid that I know very little on the subject as well. We do attempt to grow some raspberries over at Sandsford but regrettably the blackbird normally has them – typically on the very day before they are expected to be ready. I am convinced that they must upset his digestion every year. It never seems to put him off, however. It drives
poor
Sally quite wild.’

‘But what of you? Do you not resent the thefts as well’

Kathryn smiled.

‘No, not really,’ she said. ‘I must admit that I am quite partial to raspberries and I think it a shame that he should eat them just before they are ripe, but his singing gives me such great pleasure that it would be ungrateful of me, to say the l
east, to begrudge him his annual
treat.’

Mr Berkeley emitted a somewhat rueful chuckle.

‘It is no less that I should have expected,’ he acknowledged.

Kathryn felt a little nonplussed.

‘Whatever do you mean?’ she asked.

‘I mean, is there never a time when your own wishes can come before those of others? I have never in my life met so selfless, so loving an individual as you. My dear Mrs Miller, I do so hope that your husband appreciates just what a treasure he has in you, when even a blackbird’s pleasure must come before your own.’

They had reached the exit by this time and Mr Berkeley suggested that they should go into the house and partake of some tea. He opened the door to allow her through and she stepped out onto the threshold and into a blaze of brilliant sunshine. Unfortunately, being distracted somewhat by the beauty of the view, and perhaps a little shaken by what he had just said to her, Kathryn failed to notice a small step immediately in front of her. She missed her footing, twisted her ankle awkwardly, and
stumbled
headlong to the ground.

Mr Berkeley was at her side, on his knees, in an instant. Kathryn had landed a little heavily on the rough gravelled pathway, falling on her hand and scraping it badly as she did so. For a couple of seconds she sat there, just a little stunned, a couple of wayward tears pricking her eyes. Then she found that Mr Berkeley had put an arm around her shoulder, had taken the hand in his, and was gently brushing some tiny grains of gravel from it with the other. She looked round at his face, which was so close to hers that they were almost touching. He raised his eyes to hers and then, very, very tenderly, he kissed her
softly
on the lips.

‘Oh God,’ was all s
he could think, as a shiver resonat
ed throughout her body. ‘Oh God, what have I done?’

Andrew still held her in his arms and for another moment or two she felt completely unable to move away. It felt so natural for him to be holding her like that and the wave of overwhelming love for him that had suddenly swept over her had left her helpless in its wake. But then she closed her eyes resolutely and started to struggle to her feet. Andrew was quick to assist her. A tremendous pain shot through her ankle as she put some weight on it. It almost caused her to stumble again. He caught her once more and lifted her into his arms. He had no difficulty in carrying her the few yards to the front steps, nor up the steps themselves, nor the next few yards into the refuge of the calm saloon, where he deposited her most carefully onto a comfortable s
ofa
overlooking a window.

They had exchanged no word throughout the whole episode, but now that they were safely inside this omission was more than adequately filled by the concern of Mrs Wright, who had spotted the somewhat unusual method by which her brother was conveying her friend into his house, from the very same window in the saloon.

‘Oh, my dear Mrs Miller – are you all right?’ (A somewhat spurious question, really. It was patently obvious that Mrs Miller was not all right.) ‘Whatever happened? Will you allow me to fetch some help?’

Kathryn, still shocked that she had allowed her love for him to take her by surprise and overpower her, assured Mrs Wright a little shakily that she would be perfectly able to manage without any more assistance, while Mr Berkeley briefly explained the circumstance of her inability to walk into the room. Neither brother nor sister felt convinced that Kathryn would be able to manage without further help but they were somewhat at a loss as to know what to do. Then Mrs Wright had a good idea. Sarah, the old family nursemaid, lived on in Belvoir House still, mending bits of linen, fashioning things for the local children and generally making herself useful. She would surely be able to take a look at the ankle and ensure that nothing more
was
needed to be done. Mr Berkeley thought this a splendid plan and immediately rang the bell to ask that Sarah might be found. Down she came, wheezing a little but only too delighted to put her skills to the test. She shooed both Mrs Wright and her brother away (much to Kathryn’s great relief) while she unveiled the sorely swollen ankle and felt at it gently. Kathryn could have cried out with the pain but managed to restrain herself, a little concerned that Mr Berkeley might rush
straight
back
in
should he hear her distress. Luckily t
he nursemaid was quickly done. She recommended maintaining the ankle on a low footstool for the remainder of the afternoon after which, she felt certain, the pain and swelling would have eased.

Kathryn felt sorry that Mr Berkeley’s dinner plans should be disrupted, but he himself had no such worries. As d
inner was now
ready he arranged for it to be brought on trays into the saloon and seemed
just as happy to have his meal
on his k
nee as he would have been in eat
ing off his most expensive Chippendale in the formal dining room. Kathryn, to be sure, felt disinclined to eat but she
managed to
force some morsels down, more for the sa
ke
of her companions than herself, and surprised herself by feeling able to accept a second portion of a particularly delicious crumble when the final course
was
served.

Time was now drawing on and Mr Berkeley, regretfully looking at the clock, went into the stables to arrange for his curricle to be harnessed in order to drive her home. Kathryn was acutely aware of the inadvisability of taking a curricle ride alone with him but she could think of no other option for getting back to Sandsford. So she expressed her gratitude with as much good grace as she could muster and when, a few minutes later, she heard the crunch of the carriage wheels on the gravel, she submitted meekly to his insistence that she allow him to assist her into it. She parted with Mrs Wright most
kindly and
allowed Mr Berkeley to tuck a blanket around her legs. Then she settled down to
make the best of a bad job and
enjoy the novelty of the drive. She had never been driven in a curricle before.

Now that she had the perfect opportunity, Kathryn knew that she should tell Mr Berkeley in the strongest possible terms that it had been most ungentlemanly of him to kiss her when she was at her most vulnerable – nay, indeed, ever to kiss her at all, vulnerable or not. Nor should he have put his arms around her in quite so affectionate a manner. She was a married woman after all and she could quite understand that a husband would not be altogether delighted at the thought of another young gentleman playing free and easy with his wife. She also knew that the longer she allowed herself to enj
oy the intimacy which had
naturally sprung up between them the more difficult it would get for h
er to tear herself away
. It had become nigh on impossible already
and she was extremely annoyed with herself for allowing it to creep up on her in the way that it had
. But even so she struggl
ed to find the words. She couldn
’
t bring herself to admit
that this was simply due to her own
disinclination
to endanger the relationship she had already established with him. Rather, she
persuaded herself that she did
n
’
t wish to inflate the importance of the incident by making a big issue of it. He had lived much on the continent, after all, and she had heard that foreign ladies and gentlemen enjoyed a good deal more freedom together than did English ones. Why, they had even been known to dance in each othe
r’s arms at balls. She
therefore
wondered whether
it might be better to let sleeping dogs lie. And while she wrestled with what best to do, what best to say, Mr Berkeley was chatting to her quite inconsequentially about his pleasure in showing her his grounds, his sadness at her accident and his expressed hope that, as soon as her ankle would stand it, she would return to Belvoir to take a tour of his house.