Page 17 of To Catch a Husband
‘Morning, Miss Mary. Good morning, sir.’
‘Good morning, Mrs Holt. Could you send some coffee up, please.’
‘Of course, miss.’ Cook bobbed once more and slipped away downstairs, glad that the visitor meant that Miss Mary had not enquired why she and her ladyship had been in discussion on a day other than Friday, which was when the menus for the following week were determined.
They entered the room and Lady Damerham, who had been seated at an escritoire, looked up and gave a small start, as though, thought Sir Rowland, discovered in some dubious act. She flushed slightly as her daughter introduced him.
‘Mama, may I present our neighbour and landlord, Sir Rowland Kempsey. Sir Rowland, may I present89my mother, Lady Damerham.’ It was very formal, and he was surprised to be termed their landlord. He was aware that he owned the dower house, but he did not feel that it was his. He did not feel like a landlord, but the situation clearly rankled. He made his bow to Lady Damerham, who came forward and greeted him with polite if disjointed phrases.
‘I would not have you feel, ma’am, that I am as Miss Lound says, your landlord.’
‘It could not be said otherwise, Sir Rowland,’ remarked Mary, before her mother could answer. ‘If, as I assume, you have taken a proper look at your inherited property, you know that the dower house and grounds are yours, but that my mother is to have the right of abode, without the payment of any rent, for her lifetime.’ She looked at him squarely. There had been the faintest of stresses upon the word ‘her’ which he did not fail to notice. Without knowing how, Mary felt that his eyes asked the unspoken question ‘And afterwards? What of you?’ She gave a twisted smile but said nothing.
‘I see. Yes, I see.’ He did see, more than she thought.
‘I have no complaint, Sir Rowland,’ declared Lady Damerham, seeing the frown that appeared between his brows.
No, you do not, but your daughter does, he thought to himself. Small wonder I hear resentment in her voice, see it in her manner. She is cornered indeed.
‘I sincerely hope that you do not, ma’am, and I can assure you that as far as I am concerned, you, both of90you, have the right to use the park for walking, or for any other activity, quite freely, should you choose. The clumsy barring of the wicket gate, through which I, er, almost passed this morning, will be removed forthwith. To say that you may treat it as your own, when it was previously yours, may seem offensive, but no offence is intended.’
‘Thank you, Sir Rowland. I myself am not a great walker, but Mary is one who needs fresh air and activity, and I am sure will take advantage of your kind offer.’
‘I shall.’ Mary glanced at him, and he thought she looked confused. Part of her wanted to fling the offer back in his face, for it was Lound land in all but legal deed, but it would be churlish in the extreme, so she was reticent.
The door opened and Atlow entered with coffee.
‘Dear me, do please take a seat, Sir Rowland. What must you think of us!’ Lady Damerham took a chair to the right of the fireplace and invited him to be seated opposite her. Mary very intentionally took a seat which meant that, if he wished to converse with her, he would have to turn slightly. She was not sure that at that moment she could face looking at him directly, though her practical inner voice told her that being missish was foolish and if she wished to engage his affections she must at least engage his gaze. Her mama felt only an awareness of some awkwardness, and in an attempt to prevent silences, chattered away volubly for some minutes. Sir Rowland made the most sensible answers91that he could to questions that covered diverse topics and required an agility of mind to follow. Eventually he gave in and turned to Mary, with a look that pleaded for rescue. She took pity upon him.
‘Do you intend to reside in Gloucestershire for much of the year, Sir Rowland?’
‘I intend to make it my home, Miss Lound.’ He said it with a smile but saw her wince before she smiled back. He was a clumsy fool. How must it sound hearing him want to make his home in what had been hers?
‘I hope you will be very happy at Tapley End, sir.’ The reply was mechanical, but she was thinking that it made her plan all the more logical.
‘And your family, Sir Rowland? My daughter says you have a young brother with you.’ Lady Damerham liked the idea of permanent neighbours rather than a frequently empty house.
‘My brother Tom, ma’am, shortly to resume his studies in Oxford. My sisters are married, and my mama lives with her widowed sister in Richmond, at the edge of the park. She likes to be able to get to the Metropolis without difficulty.’
Lady Damerham talked about several visits she had made to London in her more youthful years, exhibiting a confused sense of the capital’s geography, and finally Sir Rowland ended the conversation by extending an invitation to both ladies to come to dinner the following evening. Lady Damerham accepted with alacrity, feeling a little aggrieved that he could invite people without a92thought to the expense, but also realising that in dining with him she could honestly say to Mary that the weekly budget need not be exceeded just because she was going to order a lobster from Gloucester for their own dinner party. He made his bow and departed to take a circuitous route back across the parkland, and with much to think about.
Mary was also thinking. There had been no mention of a wife. Somehow or other, she really, really did have to persuade him to marry her, but so far she had done nothing but alienate him, she was sure.
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CHAPTER SIX
Mary was not such an outdoor woman that she was careless of her appearance, except when actually engaged in her outdoor activities, but she gave special consideration to her preparations for dinner the following evening. Lady Damerham, having dithered about going into dove grey with three days remaining of her full mourning, had been persuaded by her daughter that Sir Rowland would have no idea when Lord Damerham had died, and would care even less if she was a few days short of the required period of deepest blacks. For herself, Mary chose an old favourite, a soft, slightly grey-blue silk, which reminded her of summer evenings just after sunset when the sky blue deepened just a little, and the fish were rising. It also complemented her complexion and her fair hair, which she felt was insipid,94although others would describe as a mellow, pale gold. She let her mother’s maid dress her hair and clasp a pearl and aquamarine necklet about her throat. Her jewels were not numerous, but the necklet and matching drop earrings were good quality. She draped a spangled gauze scarf over her elbows, but then wondered whether it was worth risking goose pimples. The dining room at Tapley End was not a warm room, even with a fire lit in the large fireplace, and in late summer she would have worn a fine wool shawl, or perhaps a Norwich silk. Yes, there was a silk one in black with a grey fringe close enough in colour to the gown to be considered a match, not a clash, and it would go with her black gloves. It was so long since she had been dressed quite so fine for dinner that she had forgotten the best combinations.
It felt odd, drawing up outside the front of Tapley End and not being greeted by Atlow, and welcomed home. It gave Mary a disembodied feeling. Mrs Peplow met them, and was familiar, but not performing the role of butler. She did escort them to the yellow saloon, which was bathed in the early evening sunshine that would soon give in to a soft sunset. Mary stopped as she entered the room, and for a moment a frown appeared between her brows. Sir Rowland noticed it.
‘There is something amiss, Miss Lound? I have not altered the arrangement of the room, not, I must admit, from any feeling that I should not do so but because those items I wish to bring to the house from Cumberland take a long time to come by carrier.’95
‘I am sorry, sir. It is just that … it sounds foolish, but the room smells different. For a long time it was used almost entirely by my mama and by me, two women. There was the pot pourri of roses, and, I suppose, a lingering hint of feminine perfume. One does not notice the smell of one’s own house, until it changes, and the associations made by eye and nose cease to match.’
‘Yes. It is something that I had not considered, but it is true. When I arrived, I was conscious that this was a feminine room and assumed it was because of the arrangement of furnishings, but what you say is true, if unavoidable.’
‘There is no blame, Sir Rowland. It was an observation, and you did ask me.’ She sounded defensive again, he thought.
