Carola Dunn (18 page)

Lord Ashe had purchased ponies for all three boys. When Lissa protested, he said learning to ride was part of Colin’s education, which they had agreed Peter and Michael were to share.

“If they cannot ride with him, do you imagine he will have the least interest in riding? You ought to learn too. They will enjoy it more with you than with a groom when I cannot take them out.”

“No,” Lissa said resolutely. “They will have to make do with a groom. I have no habit, and you must see that it would be grossly improper in me to accept an article of clothing from a gentleman.”

He accepted her adamant refusal. She had given in over the fishing expedition, but she would not be beholden to him for providing a mount, still less a riding dress. What would Lady Ashe think if her son spent money on a horse for the governess? Moreover, Lissa recalled having told him she did not ride, and to feign complete ignorance of the requisite skills once in the saddle was beyond her acting capabilities.

She had too much to hide from him already, enmeshed as she was in a life of deception. For the boys’ sake she could not regret it, but she had not bargained for the strain of constantly keeping up her guard.

In spite of that strain, in spite of her fruitless love for Lord Ashe, Lissa delighted in summer at Ashmead. Not for years had she known such comfort and content.

A good part of her pleasure came from seeing her brothers rejoicing in every day. Though brought up in the country, Peter and Michael had not been allowed to enjoy the many pleasures offered to small boys by woods, fields and streams. They had never played hide-and-seek among the trees, hunted butterflies and beetles, or paddled in clear, cool running water with minnows tickling their toes. They loved every minute spent outdoors.

So did Colin, and Lissa’s pleasure in his happiness was tinged with self-congratulation. His strength increased daily. He wheezed only when he tried to run uphill, or after sneezing fits brought on by certain flowers. Lissa soon worked out which plants he must avoid and taught him to recognize them.

Lady Ashe, who saw Colin every day, noted the improvement in his health and sent for Lissa one morning to thank her.

“As you are aware, Miss Findlay,” she said, “I was most dubious as to your suitability for the post of governess to my grandson. Your youth, your looks, your brothers, all created an unfavourable appearance. However, I cannot deny that your brothers are ideal companions for the child, and your care of him has been exemplary.”

“Thank you, ma’am. I am very fond of Master Colin.”

“And he of you, I collect. So, your youth and the boys turn out not to be disadvantages. About your looks I am less certain.”

“Ma’am?” Lissa resisted an urge to tug on her cap.

“I understand you spend a good deal of time with my son.”

Willing herself not to blush, Lissa said firmly, “Lord Ashe spends a good deal of time with the boys, ma’am. He is a devoted uncle and, I believe, enjoys their company. But it is only natural that he generally wishes me to be present to take over the responsibility when he needs or chooses to turn his attention to other matters.”

“Hmm, perhaps. I hardly imagine, though, that the boys are interested in the design of cottages. Did not Lord Ashe show you over one of his cottages?”

“He did, ma’am. I own that I was more interested than the boys, but Lord Ashe wished to impress upon Lord Orton, while he is young enough to be impressed, the value of sanitary housing for....”

Lady Ashe waved her to silence. “Yes, yes, I have heard his sermons upon the subject! Lord Orton’s estate, however, stands in no need of a new bridge, yet I hear that you frequently go to inspect the progress of the construction.”

“Very frequently!” Lissa smiled. “Can you imagine, ma’am, anything more calculated to appeal to small boys than a great structure gradually arising from all that mud and bustle? I assure you, when we go there, it takes all my care to stop them joining in.”

Her ladyship admitted the justice of this observation, though she did not appear entirely reassured about the effect of Lissa’s looks upon her son.

For her part, Lissa had wondered at Lord Ashe’s continued presence at Ashmead. She had expected him to leave, to return to London, to go visiting like his sister, or to join the social scene in Brighton.

If she was tempted to believe he remained for her sake, a moment’s reflection sufficed to disabuse her of that notion. The construction of the bridge was enough to explain his staying. What with overseeing that, the general business of the estate, entertaining and being entertained by the neighbours, and the time he spent with the boys, he was constantly busy.

Lissa came to realize how deeply he loved Ashmead. This was his true home, his sojourns in London a mere hiatus.

He did go away for a few days now and then, to visit particular friends. In August, in turn, he and Lady Ashe invited a few friends and relatives to stay for a week. Lady Orton returned to Ashmead for the occasion, Sir Quentin as ever at her side. Colin was made much of in the drawing room each afternoon, but otherwise the nursery party was unaffected, except for seeing little of Lord Ashe while his guests stayed.

They left, and life went back to normal--to what, Lissa cautioned herself, it was all too easy to regard as normal. How she wished this existence might go on forever!

Autumn was coming. As sure as the swallows turned south, the Haute Monde would turn towards London. Lord Ashe would resume his seat in the House of Lords; Lady Orton would repair to Town for the Little Season; Lissa’s boys must go back to their serious studies.

With Colin looking so healthy now, his mother might think him fit to return to London. Lord Ashe might not wish to hire a tutor to reside at Ashmead when his services would be required only a few hours a day—in London he could live out. Lissa no longer lived in constant fear of dismissal, but the uncertainty of their future abode unsettled her.

She dreaded the prospect of seeing Colin ailing again, his lungs under assault by the foul city air. As she had foretold to Lord Ashe, her affection for the boy had grown with familiarity. If he would never be quite as dear to her as Peter and Michael, the slight difference was largely due to her brothers’ utter dependence on her.

The country was better for them, too, though having survived the months in Lambeth they would doubtless continue to thrive in Dover Street. For herself, Lissa was torn.

Would life at Ashmead continue to content her if she only saw Lord Ashe occasionally, on rare, brief visits? Could she bear the close quarters of Dover Street, where he was always nearby yet his occupations had no room for three boys and a governess?

Because here at Ashmead, whatever she had told Lady Ashe, as often as not the boys ran off to play while she and Lord Ashe talked endlessly. Here, he was her friend.

* * * *

Autumn was coming. In the orchard, pears and plums were ready for harvest and apples ripening fast. In the fields, the brambles sagged beneath the weight of their glossy fruit. One sunny afternoon, Lissa took the boys blackberrying.   Purple-fingered and purple-mouthed--and in Michael’s case purple-shirted--they wandered with their cans along hedgerows wreathed with old man’s beard, garlanded with the scarlet, orange and green fruit of the bryony. Curly bounced alongside, with many a side excursion after smells.

Finding a good spot, they settled down to serious picking. Lissa took off her obstructive bonnet and hung it on a branch of a hedge-maple.

“Look at these, they’re enormous,” shouted Colin.

“Mine are supergigantenormous.” That was Peter.

“Not as big as mine.”

“Ripeness and sweetness are more important than size,” Lissa pointed out.

“Lissa, I can’t reach that bunch. They’re big and ripe.”

“They do look good. Bother!” Lissa stretched in vain. “I should have brought a crooked walking-stick.”

“Allow me.” Lord Ashe was climbing a nearby stile, his horse already tied to a side post.

“Uncle Robert, I’ve picked lots and lots.”

“Not as many as I have,” Peter claimed. “Michael has hardly any because he keeps eating them.”

“Eating’s what they’re for, aren’t they, Lissa?”

“Yes, pet, but do not eat too many or you will have a tummy-ache.”

Lord Ashe smiled at Michael, an oddly sympathetic smile. “They taste even better with sugar and cream, not to mention in pies and jellies. Wait just a minute while I pull down that sprig for Peter, then I’ll help you fill your can.”

Lissa moved back as he approached, laughing when half Peter’s “supergigantenormous” cluster ended up in his lordship’s mouth.

With Lord Ashe’s aid, Michael’s can was soon full, as were the other three. Lissa had brought a couple of spares, but the boys had had enough of picking.

“Curly ran off ages ago,” said Peter, waving at the wood at the bottom of the field, its trees already touched with bronze and yellow. “Listen, she’s barking. May we go and see what she’s doing, Lissa?”

“Yes, go along with you, but listen in case I call. If I’m not here when you come back, I’ll be picking in the next field. Thank you for your assistance, sir,” she said as the boys ran off.

“Let me help you fill those two, since I have every intention of helping to consume the pies and jellies. We’ve pretty well stripped this side of the hedge. Shall we try the other side?”

His horse sidled out of the way as he gave her his hand to climb the stile. Because of the staining berry juice, both had taken off their gloves. The touch of his warm, strong fingers sent a trembling shock up her arm that spread in a warm glow throughout her body. Eyes lowered, she prayed he would not notice how she was affected.

Nothing could be more dangerous than revealing that she loved him, a peril she had somehow so far avoided. Though by now she felt quite safe in his company, the discovery might encourage him to resume his pursuit, to attempt again to seduce her. More likely it would simply embarrass him. In his discomfort, he would not want her to remain in his household.

With the good references she felt she had earned, she was confident of obtaining another position, even one where she could take Peter and Michael. But she did not want another position!

She wanted to be near him, however painful it was.

Lost in thought, she picked for several minutes in silence. Lord Ashe was silent too, industriously filling his can a few yards from her. Here in the shade on the east side of the hedge the air was crisply autumnal. Soon Lissa would have to go back to wearing her old, dowdy, woollen dresses, but for the moment stooping and stretching after the best berries kept her warm enough.

As she reached in among the brambles after a succulent cluster, thorns caught her sleeve. She set down the can in her other hand and leaned forward to unhook the delicate muslin. One of the waving canes dangling from above grabbed her hair.

“Oh bother!”

Lord Ashe looked round and grinned. “Hold hard, your champion is coming to the rescue. Don’t pull, Miss Findlay! You will only make it worse.”

Lissa obediently held still as a strand of hair came loose from its pins and tickled her cheek.

He freed her sleeve first. Incautiously she raised her hand to her hair.

“Ouch!” She sucked her pricked finger.

“Do keep still or we shall have to hunt in the attics for a wig for you to wear. Good Lord, how did you manage to get so entangled?”

His closeness, the feel of his fingers in her hair, took away her breath. She tingled all over, from the top of her head to the soles of her feet. Closing her eyes, she fought to retain her composure.

“I shall have to take out your hairpins, I fear,” Lord Ashe apologized in an unsteady voice.

Her hair cascaded about her ears, all but the locks caught in the thorns. The tugging and wrenching that followed brought tears to her eyes.

“Ouch!”

“Am I hurting you? Nearly done. There. Don’t move or you’ll get stuck again!”

His hands on her shoulders, he turned her to face him as he guided her clear of the brambles. His indrawn breath was all the warning Lissa had before his arms went around her and his lips met hers.

Startled, her heart pounding wildly, she gave herself up to the sweetness for an immeasurable time.

Then sanity swept back. She would not, must not become his mistress when she yearned without hope for so much more. Frantically she beat upon his chest.

He released her at once and stepped back, his face flushed, his breath coming fast. His eyes closed as if to shut out the sight of her.

“I’m sorry. The temptation was irresistible.”

“You should have resisted!” she cried, turning away. “Now I cannot stay here. I shall have to seek another position at once.”

“No! Why should you suffer for my misbehaviour, you and your brothers?”

“They...We would suffer more if I yielded my virtue.”

“Miss Findlay, I no longer have designs upon your virtue, I swear it. You must believe me. That was a momentary aberration.” His voice shook. “I can control myself. I will control myself.”

“It will not do, sir. You know it.”

“But what of Colin? He needs you. You cannot abandon him. I shall go. If it will ease your fears and persuade you to remain at Ashmead, I shall remove to Town at once. When it’s absolutely necessary for me to come down, I shall stay out of your way and never seek to see you.”

Head bowed, hands clasped tight, Lissa stood silent, unable to utter a word. Never to see him, knowing she was the cause of his exile from his beloved home! Yet, for the boys’ sake, what could she do but accept his sacrifice?

Chapter 15

Lord Ashe departed the next morning. He told the boys he was going to find them a tutor. Colin and Michael groaned but Peter was excited, looking forward to delving into the mysteries of Latin. If he had no other prospects, he might have made his way as a scholar, Lissa thought, trying to enter into his enthusiasm.

She had not seen Lord Ashe since he galloped away, leaving her in the meadow with her hair down, her hairpins scattered, and her heart in fragments. Retrieving her bonnet from the maple, she had stuffed her hair under it and tied the ribbons tight. Her heart was not so easily salvaged. The walk back to the house, carrying the cans of blackberries, had seemed endless; the boys were unfeeling monsters, chattering away about how they had had to pull Curly from a hole by her hind legs.