Page 62 of To Catch a Husband
‘Mama?’ Mary, however unwilling to be close to her brother, stepped away from Sir Rowland, and put her hand out to her mother, as that lady lifted her head from her son’s chest.
‘I cannot bear it,’ she cried. ‘I cannot bear you to be at odds like this.’ She sounded on the verge of350hysterics. ‘He is safe, not eaten by bears.’ That this was a possibility had not occurred to Mary, or indeed her brother, who looked suitably surprised.
Mary looked over her shoulder at Sir Rowland, beseeching him to understand.
‘I … I should get her home,’ she said, very quietly. ‘It is with the utmost regret that I … we … cannot remain to dine, Sir Rowland. Forgive me.’
‘I will call for your carriage.’ His eyes did not leave her face. ‘It is unfortunate that the evening has been curtailed, but it changes nothing.’ He needed her to know that.
‘Thank you. Keep Valentyne here for me, will you?’
‘Yes.’
Their cloaks were brought, and Sir Rowland himself set hers about her shoulders. It gave him the chance to whisper in her ear.
‘I am here for you also. Neither of us will wait long.’ She was not quite sure whether he meant himself and Valentyne, or them as lovers, for since they loved each other, that was what they were.
When the door closed upon them, Sir Rowland, grim-faced, turned to face the now merrily burning fire.
‘Damn.’
‘What do we do now, Roly?’ asked Tom.
‘We eat dinner.’
Christmas morning was not filled with goodwill. The atmosphere was tense, and Lady Damerham talked351incessantly, hoping that whilst her progeny could not get a word in edgewise they would not be able to fight. The return of the prodigal son was traditionally greeted with joy, feasting and the killing of the fatted calf, noted Mary, sarcastically, but in the dower house there was a modest roasted goose, which they were intending to make last for several days, and they could not afford a feast. Her brother looked daggers at her.
When the family went to church, her smouldering anger turned to acute embarrassment. Lord Damerham, with his mother leaning upon his arm, and his sister several paces behind, stalked into the church as though he owned it, and processed up the aisle, to the gasps and whispers of the rest of the congregation, without looking to right or left. He went straight to the box pew, despite Lady Damerham whispering that they could not use it. Mary was left either having to follow within or to turn away and take her usual place in the open pews of the nave.
‘This is not ours,’ she hissed, as he closed the door of the pew behind them.
‘Of course it is. It is the Damerham pew.’
‘It is the pew for the lord of the manor, for Tapley End, and you gave up the right, and the advowson, remember, when you sold it.’
‘Mere semantics.’
‘Truth, Edmund. What will happen when Sir Rowland and his brother arrive?’
‘They can sit out there.’ Damerham was dismissive.352
‘No, they will not.’ Mary was outraged, and then caught the sound of a voice she recognised and loved. In contrast to Lord Damerham, Sir Rowland entered the church, acknowledging the parishioners as they nodded or dipped in respect, wishing ‘Happy Christmas’ to them and, when he saw that Mrs Shaw was cradling a swathed bundle which indicated she had been safely delivered of her seventh child, he halted, shook Nathaniel Shaw warmly by the hand in congratulation, and gave a half-crown to the new mother. The contrast to Damerham was stark. Eyes watched as he went to take the lord’s pew, wondering what would happen. As he drew close, he could see it was occupied, but his expression did not change. He entered, with Tom Kempsey right behind him, and smiled at Mary.
‘Happy Christmas,’ he said, and sat down, facing her. ‘How nice of you to join us.’ He looked delighted. In truth he was thinking how wonderful it would be having Mary in the pew every week, by right, and accepted that it would seem churlish to leave Lady Damerham isolated in the main part of the church.
‘What are you doing?’ spluttered Lord Damerham, in an angry whisper.
‘Attending Matins.’
Mary found it hard to concentrate upon the service, being prey to such tangled emotions. She was outraged by her brother, shamed by him, and at the same time353thrilled by Sir Rowland’s proximity, and the fact that, when their eyes met, so much was communicated. At the conclusion of the service, Damerham rose swiftly, wishing to take precedence and lead, with his mother beside him. Sir Rowland did not prevent him, but smiled at Mary and offered her his arm. She hesitated a moment, and then walked down the aisle at his side, with Mr Kempsey in their wake. She wondered if the next time she did this it might be as a bride.
They parted at the lychgate, and her day diminished. When she arrived back at the dower house she went to her room, and remained there until luncheon, writing a letter which she gave to Atlow with instructions that it be sent up to the house before dark.
When Sir Rowland received it, he opened it with care, and read it several times.
My dear Sir Rowland,
Never have I begun a letter and meant the appellation so truly.
