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He found his mother seated at her desk in the Wedgwood Salon, going through a large pile of correspondence. Garbed in a morning gown of deep-turquoise silk, she looked the picture of serenity; but, upon closer inspection, Alex noticed that her complexion was pale and that she looked to have lost weight, something she could ill afford to do. He quietly crossed the room and bent to drop a kiss on the top of her dark, shining head. ‘Good morning, Mother.’
‘Alex!’ Lady Widdicombe jumped. ‘I’m sorry, darling, I was that caught up in my notes I didn’t hear you come in. How are you?’
‘Well. I’m on my way to Ellingsworth and thought I would stop by to find out if and when you and Father were driving down.’
His mother sighed. ‘I shall be leaving tomorrow, but your father won’t be joining me. He’s worked himself into such a state over this engagement, I’ve had to call in Dr Harrow.’
‘Harrow? That can’t have made Father happy. What did the doctor say?’
‘That Richard could do with losing a little weight and have one less whisky before retiring. And that he was to rest for a few days.’
‘Sage advice for any man, I suppose,’ Alex said. ‘Is he in his study?’
‘No. He wasn’t feeling quite the thing this morning so he decided to remain in his room.’
‘Then I shall go and see him—’
‘Alex, there’s something I have to tell you,’ his mother said abruptly. ‘Something you need to know before you go upstairs …’
It was bad news. Alex knew it from the way she suddenly refused to meet his eyes. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘It isn’t just Peter’s engagement that has upset your father. Last week he … collapsed, in his study,’ she said slowly. ‘Dr Harrow said it … could be his heart.’
His heart? Alex was stunned. His father was only fifty-nine years old and as fit as most men half his age. When had he suddenly developed problems of this nature? ‘Has this happened before?’
‘I don’t know. He says it hasn’t, but you know he doesn’t like worrying us and he hates having to see the doctor.’ His mother sighed. ‘Naturally, he didn’t want me to say anything to you at all. He said there was no point in upsetting you because in a matter of days it would all be fine. And maybe it will be. But I felt you had a right to know before you went down to see your brother.’
Alex walked slowly across the room, stopping by the long window. ‘What did Harrow suggest?’
‘That we restrict your father to a light diet. Boiled fish and broths, no rich desserts or sauces. And he must be kept as calm as possible.’
Calm. With his youngest son about to marry a woman of whom he heartily disapproved. It was like telling a starving fox to ignore the rabbit jumping up and down in front of his nose.
‘On second thought, perhaps it’s best Father not come down to Ellingsworth just yet,’ Alex said. ‘At least not until I’ve had a chance to see how things stand. With luck, I’ll be able to rectify matters without Father ever having to be involved.’
‘Oh, that would be wonderful, Alex,’ his mother said. ‘I do want Peter to be happy, but I would be lying if I said I wasn’t concerned. We know absolutely nothing about this young woman. Who her people are, where she comes from, what her background is. And naturally that worries your father very much. He is afraid Peter has engaged himself to some fortune-hunting social climber.’
‘We can’t deny that the possibility exists,’ Alex acknowledged, ‘but I’ll find out what I can. And I understand if you would rather stay here with Father than travel all the way down to Hampshire.’
To his surprise, his mother shook her head. ‘There’s really nothing I can do here. Your father will be happier having Murdoch look after him. He thinks he’s more likely to get that glass of whisky. But I’ve warned Murdoch not to indulge him and Dr Harrow did say he would look in while I was gone. Besides, I promised Peter I would take care of the arrangements for the ball. Being a man, he won’t have a clue where to start. That’s what I’ve been doing this morning,’ she said, indicating the pile of papers on her desk. ‘And to be honest, I do want to meet this young woman without your father being there to glower at her. If Peter cannot be dissuaded from going ahead with the marriage, I want to know what kind of person I am going to be welcoming into the family.’ She sighed. ‘I would like to feel there is at least one area of my life over which I have some control.’
The earl was dozing when Alex walked into his room, and though only a few weeks had passed since his last visit, Alex could definitely see a change in his father’s appearance. His complexion was grey, his hands lay limp at his sides and there was a definite rattle in his chest when he breathed. Hard to equate the elderly-looking man slumped in his chair with the vital, powerful figure Alex had known all of his life. ‘Father?’ he ventured quietly.
‘Hmm?’ The earl’s head moved, his eyes slowly opening. ‘Oh, it’s you, Alex. Didn’t hear you come in.’ He tried to sit up. ‘Must be all this medication Harrow’s been forcing down my throat. Told him I didn’t want any of the damn stuff.’
‘If he’s giving you medication, it’s because you need it,’ Alex said, pulling up a chair next to his father’s. ‘And if you don’t take it, I shall force it down your throat myself. We cannot have you messing about when it comes to your health.’
‘Damnation! She told you, didn’t she!’ the earl railed. ‘I knew she wouldn’t be able to keep it to herself.’
‘Yes, Mother told me and she was right to do so.’
‘She was not right to do so and I’ll tell you now, it is not my heart! It was indigestion. Brought on by a bit of bad pork.’
‘A man does not collapse from indigestion,’ Alex said calmly.
‘Of course he does. I told Harrow as much too, the old quack! Said all I needed was a good glass of whisky!’
‘I trust he didn’t give you one.’
‘He did not. Neither did Murdoch, damn his surly Scottish hide! I’ve a good mind to send him packing.’
Alex smiled. ‘That would be a mistake, Father. Murdoch’s been with you for nigh on forty years.’
‘Yes, and he’s getting far too uppity in his old age,’ his father grumbled. He briefly closed his eyes, took a moment to catch his breath. ‘So, what are you going to do about this situation with your brother?’
‘Too early to say, but I’m on my way to Ellingsworth now.’
‘Good, Alex, good, I have every confidence you’ll be able to take care of it. And your timing couldn’t be better. You know Peter’s planned a dinner for the chit and her family on Thursday evening.’
‘I heard.’
‘Trumped-up little harpy,’ the earl muttered. ‘It was likely her idea that he hold a celebratory dinner in her honour so that she can get a taste of what her life is going to be like once she’s lady of the manor. But we’re not going to let that happen, are we, Alex? We’re going to nip this in the bud long before it gets to that point.’
Unwilling to give his father false assurances, Alex merely said, ‘I’ll do what I can, sir. I take it you’re not planning to be there.’
‘Ha! I’d as soon spit in her eye as see her sit at my son’s table. But Harrow has confined me to bed for a few days so I won’t be able to go regardless. But you know what’s what, Alex. You know we can’t allow this marriage to take place.’
‘It may be out of our hands. Have you spoken to Peter recently?’
‘What’s the point?’ The earl’s face twisted. ‘He says he loves her and that’s all there is to it. But we both know he’s marrying beneath himself. And mark my words, he’ll live to regret it.’
Alex decided not to address that for the moment. Marriages between mismatched social partners often did work out, but it wasn’t easy and it usually required a considerable degree of sacrifice on one part or the other. ‘Do you know anything about the girl?’ he asked instead.
‘Not yet, though I’ve engaged someone to make enquiries. And you needn’t look at me like that,’ he said when Alex raised an eyebrow in surprise. ‘If there’s bad blood in the family, I want to know about it before my son puts a ring on her finger!’
‘It is possible you’re exaggerating things, sir,’ Alex said. ‘She may be a perfectly charming young woman.’
‘Really? Have you ever heard of the Darlings of Little Moreton? No, I thought not. Mark my words, she’s after his money and an easy life. Peter won’t believe that, of course. Reading his letter, you’d think she was an angel from heaven complete with fairy wings and a blasted halo! But I’ll wager she’s a common little chit with no breeding and bad manners. Pretty, but not at all suitable to being the wife of a Taylor.’
And that’s really what it all came down to, Alex reflected drily. The appropriateness of the ladies his sons wished to marry. ‘Well, I’ll do what I can, but you should be prepared for the worst,’ Alex said, getting to his feet. ‘Peter’s sensible enough to make up his own mind—’
‘No man’s sensible when it comes to women,’ his father interrupted. ‘That’s why I’m so proud of you, Alex. You take your obligations seriously. Always have. Lady Glynnis Pettle is precisely the sort of woman your brother should be marrying. A woman who knows her place in society. One you’ll never have to worry about. She’s an earl’s daughter, after all.’
Alex smiled. ‘Yes, she is, but she’s also a good friend and has been for a long time. As to the other matter, I’ll do what I can, but I’m not making any promises.’
‘I have faith in you, my boy,’ his father said. ‘You’ve been a good and dutiful son all your life. You’ve never once given me any reason to doubt you. If anyone is going to be able to resolve this mess and make Peter listen to sense, it’s you.’
Chapter Two
Ellingsworth Hall was an exquisite Elizabethan house perched prettily on the edge of a vast wood. Unlike many such grand houses, it had not been ruined by tasteless additions thrust upon it by succeeding generations; but had retained the dignity of its origins, the mellow gold stone reflecting warmth and welcome to all who came near.
‘The formal gardens in the back are exceptionally lovely,’ Linette said as the carriage drew to a halt under the portico. ‘Mr Taylor took me for a walk through them last week. He was remarkably knowledgeable about the names of the flowers. I just said they were all very pretty and that my sister would create the most beautiful arrangements if she had such a garden to draw upon.’
Emma smiled, silently adding botanist to the growing list of her future brother-in-law’s accomplishments. ‘I am content with the selection I have in our own gardens, Linette, but I suspect you will be grateful for the variety. The need for flower arrangements will be that much greater in a house the size of Ellingsworth.’
‘Without question,’ Aunt Dorothy said. ‘Mrs Connelly told me the house has twenty-seven rooms, including twelve bedrooms.’
And Mrs Connelly would know, Emma thought drily. The wife of the local squire made it her business to know everything that went on in Little Moreton. In a bucolic village where the arrival of the post was the most exciting thing to happen in a day, the upcoming marriage of a peer’s son to a local girl must have seemed like manna from heaven.
‘Can this really be happening, Emma?’ Linette asked in a voice of wonder. ‘Or shall I wake up to find that it has all been a dream?’
‘I certainly hope it is not a dream,’ Emma said. ‘Otherwise I shall have expended a great deal of time and effort getting dressed, and all for nothing.’
‘It is never a waste of time to make oneself look pretty, Emma,’ Aunt Dorothy chided. ‘On such an auspicious occasion, we must all try to look our very best. Even your father has made more of an effort than usual.’
‘I have made no more or less of an effort than I would have for any other occasion,’ Mr Darling objected.
‘Nonsense, Percy, you look quite the thing in your new mulberry jacket. And I do like the way Jenks has tied your cravat. Simple, yet elegant. The hallmark of a gentleman.’
Emma smiled, aware that how they looked would likely be of secondary importance to how they behaved. They were about to meet the Earl and Countess of Widdicombe, two of society’s most illustrious and influential members. Lord Widdicombe sat in the House of Lords and Lady Widdicombe was a close confidant of the patronesses of Almack’s. They owned an elegant town house in London, a sprawling estate in Kent, and likely several other establishments with which Emma was not familiar.
By contrast, Emma’s father was a former tutor and her late mother was the daughter of a well-to-do merchant. They had acquired Dove’s Hollow upon the demise of Mr Darling’s older brother, Cyril, who had apparently won the house and all its contents at the faro table. After Cyril’s unfortunate death in a drunken brawl, the house had passed to Emma’s father, who had been only too delighted to move his young family in and take up the life of a gentleman. They were not well travelled, did not go regularly to the theatre or museums, and though Emma had been to London once, she had not been formally presented at Court, having had no one to sponsor her or cover the costs of a Season.
Still, at least they made a presentable party as they climbed the steps to the front door of the house her sister would soon be calling home. Aunt Dorothy was wearing a stylish new gown of terre d’Eygpt sarsenet, Linette was radiant in white muslin trimmed with double bands of gold embroidery and Emma’s own gown was a shade of pale green she knew to be flattering to her dark hair and fair complexion.
Nevertheless, she was thankful she was not the one who would have to bear the brunt of the scrutiny tonight. This evening, she was simply a bystander. She would support her sister in every way she could, but if the earl and countess took it into their heads to be disdainful, she suspected there would be little any of them could do but smile as bravely as they could and count the minutes until it was all over.
They were greeted at the door by a tall and rather impressive-looking butler and shown into the elaborate Chinese drawing room. Linette had already informed them that Mr Taylor intended on having all of the reception rooms redone and that he had decided to start with this, the largest of the saloons. Emma, whose eye was always drawn to line and colour, paused on the threshold, impressed by the elegant proportions and by the deep crimson and gold colour scheme. Fire-breathing dragons and sword-wielding warriors were prominent throughout the room and the furnishings were Oriental in design. Two magnificent black-lacquer cabinets with ornate battle scenes hand painted in gold and crimson stood on either side of the long window.
The Countess of Widdicombe was seated on a red-velvet chair by the fireplace, hands folded calmly in her lap. She was a regal-looking woman, still relatively young, with a smooth, unlined complexion and glossy black hair artfully arranged in an elegant coiffure. Wearing a gown of rich crimson silk, she seemed almost an accessory to the room, her elegance and grace very much in keeping with her surroundings.
Emma thought she would have looked a great deal friendlier had she troubled herself to smile, but apparently smiles were not required of a countess when meeting a prospective daughter-in-law and her family for the first time.
Two other men occupied the room and stood on either side of the fireplace like mismatched bookends. Emma recognised Peter Taylor at once and, though he was not the kind of man that appealed to her, she could well understand Linette’s attraction to him. He was not overly tall, but his slenderness conveyed the impression of height and the combined skills of his tailor and valet did the rest. His thick, nut-brown hair tapered neatly to his collar, and with quite the most charming smile Emma had ever seen and a demeanour that was totally without arrogance, he reminded her of an anxious puppy, desperate to be loved by one and all.
The other man, who was clearly too young to be the earl, was obviously the eldest son, Viscount Stewart. Lord Stewart towered over his younger brother by a good four inches and possessed the kind of looks that would invariably send young girls swooning. Thick black hair, luxurious as sable, was swept back from a broad forehead already tanned by the warm spring sun. His jaw was square, his mouth full lipped and sensual, his lashes dark under even darker brows.
Only his eyes were light, the clear, cornflower blue seemingly at odds with the rest of his appearance.
But where was Lord Widdicombe? Surely he should be here to greet his son’s intended bride and her family?
‘Mr Darling, I am so pleased you were able to come,’ Peter Taylor said, quickly stepping forwards. ‘Mother, may I present Mr Darling and his family.’
As Lady Widdicombe inclined her head, Emma studied her face for some indication as to what she was feeling. But apart from a slight stiffness of manner, there was nothing to indicate either pleasure or resentment. ‘Good evening, Mr Darling. I do not believe you have met my eldest son, Lord Stewart?’
‘I have not, Lady Widdicombe, but I am very pleased to do so.’ Mr Darling bowed to both the countess and the heir, and then turned to introduce the members of his own family. ‘May I present my sister, Mrs Grand, my eldest daughter, Emma, and, of course, my youngest daughter, Linette.’
‘Mrs Grand, Miss Darling,’ the countess said, her gaze resting on each of them for a moment. ‘And Miss Linette Darling. Step forwards, child.’
Linette did, her cheeks taking on a deeper-pink hue as she moved closer to the countess’s chair. Stopping a few feet in front of her, she executed a graceful curtsy.
The countess nodded her approval. ‘How old are you, child?’
‘Seventeen, your ladyship.’
‘Seventeen. And you think you can make my son happy.’
‘Of course she will make me happy, Mother,’ Mr Taylor said, springing to Linette’s defence. ‘That is why—’
His mother’s upraised hand silenced him. ‘My question was addressed to Miss Linette, Peter. Kindly allow her to answer.’
All eyes swung back to Linette, who suddenly looked like the sacrificial lamb being led to the slaughter. ‘I … I—’
‘Speak up, child. I’m not going to eat you.’
‘Of course not, Mother, but judging from the look of terror in Miss Linette’s eyes, I’m not sure she believes you.’
It was Lord Stewart who spoke, the rich timbre of his voice drawing every eye in the room. He stepped away from the fireplace and offered Linette a surprisingly friendly smile. ‘Good evening, Miss Linette. We are very pleased to welcome you and your family to Ellingsworth Hall.’ His voice was low and deep, the tone undeniably reassuring.
Linette visibly relaxed. ‘Th-thank you, Lord Stewart.’
‘I regret that my father is not able to be with us this evening, but his health is not the best and it was necessary that he remain in London for a few days.’
‘We are very sorry to hear that, my lord,’ Mr Darling said in a tone of mingled relief and regret. Obviously, he too had been wondering at the reason behind the earl’s absence. ‘I hope he will be recovered in time for the coming festivities.’
‘We certainly hope that will be the case,’ Lord Stewart said. ‘The doctor has advised a period of rest before resuming his social obligations. Especially one of this consequence.’
‘Will there be … a lot of people in attendance?’ Linette asked nervously.
‘Indeed, most everyone has written to say they will be here,’ Lady Widdicombe replied. ‘I had my doubts about Lord and Lady Martindale, but their acceptance arrived yesterday, and even Lord and Lady Huffton said they would be willing to leave town for a weekend. Then there will be Sir George and Lady Monk, and of course, the Earl and Countess of Leyland and their daughter, Lady Glynnis Pettle, whom Alexander is soon to marry.’
‘Marry?’ Peter Taylor’s eyebrows rose. ‘I wasn’t aware you’d proposed to Lady Glyn, Alex.’
‘I haven’t,’ Lord Stewart said with a speaking glance at his mother.
‘But we all know it is only a matter of time.’ Lady Widdicombe turned to Emma’s father with a complacent smile. ‘There has been an understanding between the families for some time. Lady Glynnis’s father is the Earl of Leyland and her mother the former Lady Georgiana Croft, daughter of the Marquis of Tunney. It is an excellent match.’
Mr Darling and Aunt Dorothy both offered dutiful murmurs of approval and Lady Widdicombe looked suitably appeased. Emma, who was not impressed by the countess’s reluctance to appear as welcoming towards Linette as she was to this other unknown lady, rolled her eyes, only to flush when she caught Lord Stewart watching her.
‘Miss Darling,’ he said, his gaze moving over her so quickly she felt a draught. ‘I would not have taken you for Miss Linette’s sister. The resemblance between you is not immediately discernible.’
‘Pray do not trouble yourself to be polite, Lord Stewart, the resemblance is not discernable after several hours of intense study. Linette has always been the beauty in the family,’ Emma told him. ‘I tend more towards the academic and the practical.’
‘Oh, now, Emma, you are being far too critical of yourself,’ Linette was quick to say. ‘You play the piano, manage the household and paint the most wonderful landscapes.’
‘All at the same time?’ Lord Stewart favoured Emma with a brief smile. ‘A remarkable talent indeed.’
Resisting the impulse to trade sarcasm for sarcasm, Emma said, ‘It no doubt would be if I were able to do all three simultaneously, but I prefer to do them separately and I admit to painting with far more skill than I play.’
‘How unfortunate,’ Lady Widdicombe observed. ‘A lady’s talent on the pianoforte must always be deemed more valuable than her ability to paint. Painting is such a solitary occupation and one cannot socialise when one is alone.’
‘True, but if a lady does not entertain well, surely it is kinder to her audience that she not make the attempt? I would far rather look at a well-executed painting than listen to a poorly played sonata.’
‘Surely the answer is to practise more often, Miss Darling.’
‘Only if there is something to be gained by the effort.’ Emma smiled. ‘Apart from Linette, my family is not particularly gifted in the musical arena.’
The remark was followed by a rather startled silence, leaving Emma to conclude that speaking truthfully about one’s abilities or lack thereof was probably not recommended. She couldn’t be sure, but she thought her father was not the only one who breathed a sigh of relief when dinner was announced a short time later.
Dinner in the baronial dining room was exceptional, though Emma thought eating in the smaller, more intimate family dining room would have been far less intimidating. The great table, which could easily have sat forty, was set with crisp white linens, sparking crystal and the family silver. A magnificent silver epergne graced the centre of the table, while smaller flower arrangements at either end provided a welcome splash of colour against the backdrop of white and silver.
As host, Peter Taylor took his place at the head of the table, with his mother on his right and Linette on his left. Lord Stewart sat to Emma’s right, while her father was on Lady Widdicombe’s right with Aunt Dorothy beside him. And, as expected, the meal was outstanding. A variety of courses, each more tempting than the last, was served by liveried footmen while the butler poured the wine and kept a sharp eye on every servant in the room.
Emma couldn’t help but smile as she thought of Jenks, their man of all trades. A country fellow at best, poor Jenks would have felt decidedly out of place here at Ellingsworth Hall. No doubt the servants below stairs were every bit as intimidating as the lofty family above.
‘Something amuses you, Miss Darling?’
Emma looked up to find Lord Stewart’s blue eyes fixed upon her. ‘Yes, though I doubt anyone but myself would find it so.’