Authors: Anne Ireland
“I have had so many lovely presents that I feel overwhelmed,” she told Hester. “They have been arriving for days, and I opened them all this morning. Thomas bought me a pretty evening purse, and of course, I shall have my ring this evening.” Her father had given her a magnificent pearl necklace that could be worn in several different ways and had a diamond clasp, and several aunts had given her either jewellery or money. Her sisters and brothers had all put together to buy her a new horse. She was a very fortunate, privileged girl, and she knew it. “And the villagers of March Mallow have sent me a leather saddle for my horse.”
“Well, it is your birthday and your engagement party,” Hester said. “I am thrilled for you, dearest, and I wish you every happiness in the future.”
“Dearest Hester, you have become as a sister to me,” Geraldine said. “Yes, of course. I hope we shall always be friends.”
“I was so worried about you until I heard that Paul had brought you back to us,” Geraldine said. She looked a little odd. “Was it not strange that Viscount Mortimer happened to be nearby—and that he did so much to help you?”
“It was very good of him,” Hester said. “I do not know why he happened to be on your father’s land—unless he was planning to visit you.”
“He must surely know that I am to be engaged,” Geraldine said her brow creasing in thought. “I wondered if perhaps it might be interested in you?”
“I cannot imagine that likely,” Hester said. “Richard Mortimer must marry an heiress I imagine, and I am hardly that.”
“But . . . .” Geraldine paused for thought. “Oh, well, it was just a thought. Did you know that the viscount will be attending this evening? Paul invited him as his guest, and of course, Mama agreed. She can never refuse Paul anything, for he has been so good to us.”
“I understand Henry Blackwater and his aunt will also be attending?”
“Yes. I hope that will not be uncomfortable for you, Hester? The invitation was given in Bath before . . . and could not be rescinded.”
“No, of course not,” Hester assured her. “I shall be no different in my manner towards him than I was before he offered for me.”
It was not the fact that she had turned down his proposal that was worrying her, but the dark suspicion that still hovered at the back of her mind. She could not be certain that he was the one who had ordered Geraldine’s abduction, but she was almost certain she had heard him speaking to the man called John. And in her heart, she believed that her escape had been easy because he wanted her to get away without realising that he was the culprit.
She had always believed that Henry Blackwater cared for her, and she thought that he had not been able to bring himself to order her death, which he might have had to, if she had not found a way to escape. For reasons of his own, he wished Paul dead—but not Hester.
It would not be easy to greet him with her usual calm friendliness but she must do so. If he guessed that she suspected him, he might become more ruthless than he already was. Whatever happened that evening, she would be watching what he did, because she was afraid that he might take the chance to kill Paul if he could find a way of getting him alone.
After tea, the ladies went upstairs to rest until it was time to change for the evening. Hester did not lie down, though she was sharing a room with another two girls, who were each using one of the three single beds that had been set up for their use. All the guestrooms were being shared by ladies, some of whom had travelled a short distance for the ball, though some had come farther and were to stay a few days.
Hester was not tired. She would have preferred to go down and walk in the gardens, but knew that it would cause bother for the servants who were all too busy to keep an eye on her. She sat on the window seat and looked down as guests continued to arrive. When she saw Paul walking towards the rose arbor, she was tempted to go down and join him but resisted.
The time passed slowly, but then the maids came to help the girls dress, and small tokens of flowers were sent up so that they might choose which ones they would carry. Hester received three. One of pink roses tied with pale green ribbons, one of red roses tied with white ribbons, and one of roses and camellias tied with blue ribbons. The roses tied with green ribbons came from Paul, and since the ribbons matched her gown, she guessed that he had known what she was wearing. The other two tokens carried no messages, and she left them to the maid to place in water. She would not carry them, but they were too lovely to throw away.
When she and the other girls went downstairs, the guests were arriving en force, and Lady Holbeach was standing with Geraldine to greet them. The girls stood in line until they were formally greeted and then moved through to the reception rooms. They had all eaten a good tea for there would be no formal dinner that evening, though a sumptuous buffet supper would be served later.
The dancing was about to begin, though for the moment guests were still mingling, greeting each other with cries of pleasure and exclaiming over the gowns and jewellery that they had acquired since last meeting. Hester saw her mother and Charlotte standing together with some other ladies and moved towards the small group, her cheeks a little warm as she saw that Lady Blackwater was with them. The older woman’s gaze was cold as they swept over her, and Hester knew that she had not been forgiven for refusing her nephew’s offer of marriage.
Hester greeted all the ladies, dipping into a graceful curtsey. She was smiled upon by most of the ladies, who all thought her both modest and charming, but Lady Blackwater’s eyes remained cool, even though she extended the tips of her fingers.
“So, Miss Weston, it would appear that you have found yourself a nice little niche here, though perhaps you do not deserve it.”
Hester’s cheeks flushed, for she knew what the lady meant, but she saw a flash of alarm in her mother’s eyes as she bristled in defence of her daughter.
“I am not sure what you mean by that, madam?”
“It does not matter, Mama.”
“Indeed it does if it is a slight upon your character.”
“Miss Weston knows well enough what I meant,” Lady Blackwater said and walked off, clearly in high dudgeon.
“Hester, a word.” Mrs. Weston drew her daughter to a sheltered spot near a large green plant by the open window. “What does that woman know? Tell me at once?”
“It is not what you fear, Mama,” Hester said in a low voice. “Her nephew made me an offer of marriage, which I refused, and she is not best pleased with me.”
Mrs. Weston’s gaze narrowed. “I cannot say that I am pleased with you either, Hester. Why was I not told of this?”
“Because I refused him.”
“And why did you do that?”
“Because I could not tell him my secret, and I did not love him.”
“Ridiculous girl! As if it is necessary to reveal that shameful secret. I hope you will not be as foolish next time. You know what will happen if you let me down.”
“Yes, Mama,” Hester replied, holding back the emotion that threatened to make her weep. “Please, excuse me now. I believe Geraldine has been released and looks for me.”
* * * *
As Mrs. Weston returned to where Charlotte was standing, talking and laughing, she was unaware that a man had come in from the terrace where he had gone to smoke a cigar and to take the air. His eyes were thoughtful for he had heard every word of the conversation between Mrs Weston and her daughter, and he believed that he might find a way to use it in his efforts to destroy the man he hated.
Captain Crawford had been a thorn in his side for long enough. He had tried to ruin him with those faulty cannon, for having ordered them for the army Crawford ought to have been held responsible. However, he had cleared his name because of his prompt action in withdrawing the cannon and reimbursing the appropriate quarters for the money lost.
Blackwater’s hate was such that he preferred his enemy should be maimed before he tasted death. It would be better if he could be made to suffer some hurt . . . a little smile touched his mouth as he realized that the perfect plan was unfolding without his having to do very much. Except to discover Hester Weston’s secret. Her mother had called it shameful—and for a young girl, that could only mean one thing.
For a moment, he knew a qualm as he realized that his plan would also ruin her. Yet, in another, he hardened his heart against her. She had turned him down, and now the gossips had it that she would marry Crawford. Well, if he put himself to a little trouble, he might find a way of taking revenge upon the pair of them.
* * * *
Hester was stopped as she approached her cousin. Mr. Beaumont was the first of many young men that evening to secure a dance with her. Having met and liked him in Bath, Hester was happy to grant the two dances he requested, and he was soon followed by others just as eager to be her partner. By the time Paul came to ask for a dance, she had only the two she had reserved for him left on her card, and one other she had left blank so that she might slip away to refresh herself if need be.
Paul wrote his name in the two spaces she had indicated, retiring a little ruefully as the music began and her first partner came to claim her. At least the dance before supper was his and that meant that he would be able to take her in, but it did not look as if he would have much time alone with her that evening.
He glanced around the room but as yet could see no sign of Richard Mortimer. Damn the man! If he did not show this evening, Paul would consider his bargain fulfilled. He was not going to waste another day waiting for him to turn up. He would ask Hester to marry him this evening, and they would announce their engagement the next day—if she said yes, of course.
“Good evening, Crawford.”
Hearing the voice behind him, Paul turned to look at the gentleman who had come up on him and frowned slightly. It had seemed unlikely that Blackwater was his enemy when Hester said she thought it had been he speaking of arranging Paul’s death, but since then he had begun to wonder. If Blackwater was his enemy, he must have done something to arouse his hatred—but what?
Paul vaguely remembered that they had both wanted the same mistress once. He thought they had rolled the dice and that he had won, but surely that was not enough to make a man try to ruin him, and then to kill him? Had he done anything else that might have made Blackwater his enemy? If so then he could not recall it.
“Good evening, Blackwater. I must tell you that my head groom has succeeded in taming your rogue of a horse. Apparently, the shoes were wrong—a small thing, but he had a festering sore on his right fore foot and that was the reason for his ill temper. I think I may race him at Newmarket next season.”
“Rather you than me,” Blackwater said. “I am glad to be shot of the brute.”
“Well, each to his own,” Paul said, suddenly remembering an incident that had happened some years ago when they were both campaigning on the peninsular with Old Hookey. “I recall that you always had some trouble with horses.”
Paul had beaten him twice in races that the army had run for the officers, and, if he remembered rightly, he had also worsted him in a fistfight. It had been under army rules, which meant that they fought with bare knuckles until the last man was standing. Blackwater had gone down in the tenth round and stayed down. He had refused to shake hands and had left the army a few weeks later. He could not recall why they had quarrelled. It could not have been anything serious after all, for it had been settled in a gentlemanly way.
Surely, Blackwater could not be harboring a grudge for such petty incidents? Paul was so stunned that he could hardly believe he had stumbled on the truth. It seemed inconceivable that a man could go to such lengths simply to repay a grudge. Indeed, he was sure that he must be wrong, and yet there was something in Blackwater’s eyes at that moment which made him wonder.
“I wish you joy of your bargain,” Blackwater said, his gaze narrowing, “and if what I hear is true, your coming marriage. I think you will find that both are bitter at the heart.”
Paul stared after him in disbelief. Had he not been at his cousin’s engagement ball he would have followed the man and had it out with him. Was his remark merely sour grapes because Hester had turned him down—or was there something more behind that cryptic remark?
If he was threatening Hester . . . Rage mounted in Paul’s head as he struggled to control the urge to make Blackwater spit out his venom in plain words. It would not do. This was not the time or the place. He must wait in patience, but as soon as he had spoken to Hester, he would make Blackwater his next priority.
* * * *
Hester was beginning to enjoy herself. She had made more friends in Bath than she had realized, and found that she was being hailed warmly by ladies who had merely nodded their heads and given her a formal greeting in the past. She was becoming aware that people were looking at her in a knowing way, and she saw her mother looking pleased as she gossiped with some of the other matrons. It was obvious that people were expecting Captain Crawford to speak and soon.
When he came to claim her for their dance, he was smiling, his hands light about her waist as he swept her into the throng of dancers.
“I had hoped that we might have more dances, Hester,” he told her. “But I was delayed, and you are very popular—which is not surprising since you look beautiful this evening.”