Authors: The Guardian
“I am a bit weary,” she admitted. “I was going to take a brief respite in the morning room.”
“Have you eaten—” I was beginning when someone began to hammer the knocker on the front door. As there were no servants in sight, I went to open the door myself.
My son was standing on the front step. “Mama!” he cried. “Guess who I met coming up the drive?”
My fingers closed convulsively around the doorknob. I didn’t need to be told, but I asked anyway.
“Uncle Stephen!” came the triumphant reply.
My heart gave one hard thump and then began to beat rapidly.
Nell’s voice, warm with pleasure, said from behind me, “Stephen is here? How wonderful.”
My knuckles on the doorknob were white with pressure. I looked down into Giles’s bright, observant eyes and said with a pitiful attempt at brightness, “What a nice surprise.”
Nell came to the doorway and stood beside me, scanning the empty front drive. “I don’t see him, Giles.”
“He took the curricle to the stable.” Giles gave an excited little bounce, extended his arm, and pointed. “Look, here he comes now!”
The three of us obediently looked in the direction of Giles’s guiding finger and saw a solitary figure approaching the house from the stable path.
“Uncle Stephen!” Giles shouted in a voice loud enough to carry across three hunting fields. “Here we are!”
Stephen, who had been
heading for the side door, changed direction and came around the front of the house.
“I ran into the pony rides on the front drive,” he said as he stepped into the hall. He was hatless and there was a stripe of sunburn on the bridge of his nose. “I had completely forgotten about the August festival.”
“Annabelle sent to Mr. Putnam’s to tell you, Stephen, but you had already gone to London,” Nell assured him earnestly.
I closed the front door and made a conscious effort to let go of the knob.
As I turned to face the others, Giles said, “It’s not just an August festival anymore, Uncle Stephen. It’s my
birthday
festival.”
A faint line appeared between Stephen’s brows as he focused his attention on my son. “Your birthday, Giles?”
“Didn’t you know?” Giles was amazed.
“Giles turned five years old today, Stephen,” I said quietly.
The line between Stephen’s brows deepened and he looked at me. “I thought Giles was born in October,” he said sharply.
“So I have just discovered,” I said.
“Why did you think I was born in October, Uncle Stephen? “ Giles asked.
“Your cousin Nell will explain,” I said.
Nell gave me an incredulous look.
I was implacable. “Go on,” I said, and rested my hands on Giles’s shoulders.
“Yes,” Stephen said in a clipped voice that sounded suddenly very tense. “Tell me, Nell.”
She fidgeted with one of the pale ringlets she wore clustered in front of her ears. “It was Gerald’s idea, Stephen,” she finally said with palpable reluctance. “He let you think it was October instead of August because . ..” She wound the ringlet around her finger in a nervous gesture and looked worriedly at Giles.
“Go on,” I said again.
She bit her lip. “It was just that Gerald didn’t want you to jump to the wrong conclusion, Stephen.”
Silence. Beneath my fingers I felt Giles shift his weight, but he didn’t speak.
“And what conclusion might that have been?” Stephen asked in a dangerous-sounding voice.
Nell cast another quick look in the direction of Giles. “You know what Gerald’s reputation was, Stephen. He just didn’t want you to think that he hadn’t... respected... Annabelle.”
There was a slight tense frown between Stephen’s eyebrows. All the endearing softness of boyhood was gone from his face. I thought with surprise that he had the look of a man used to being in charge.
Nell said, “Gerald did not wish to upset you when you were so far from home.” She took a step closer to him and touched his arm in a brief, apologetic gesture. “That’s all there was to it, Stephen, I promise you.”
I gave Giles’s shoulders a warning squeeze to stop him from talking and watched Stephen’s face. I could see the exact second when he realized the truth. His head jerked up, as if someone had struck him on the chin, and his eyes sought mine. For a brief moment of charged, vibrating silence, I let myself look into the shocked blue eyes of my child’s father.
I said to him, “I didn’t know until a few days ago. I always assumed you had been informed of the correct date.”
He was visibly pale under his tan, and a pulse had begun to beat in his temple beneath the unfashionably smooth, brushed-back hair.
Giles broke the silence, “It’s all right if you don’t have a gift for me, Uncle Stephen,” he said. “You didn’t know.”
Stephen looked at his son. “I’m sorry, Giles,” he said. His face was stark.
“Are you feeling well, Stephen?” Nell asked solicitously. “You look pale. If you were driving all afternoon without a hat, you probably had too much sun.”
“There is lemonade in the gallery,” Giles said helpfully. “Georgie and me drank it all afternoon and it’s good.”
I didn’t even attempt to correct his grammar.
“Stephen?” Nell said.
“I’m fine, Nell,” Stephen said impatiently, his eyes still riveted on Giles.
Of course, my son interpreted this attention as an invitation to talk. “I got a new fishing pole for my birthday, Uncle Stephen,” he began. “And I got...”
I let him rattle on, hoping that his chatter would distract Nell’s attention from the look on Stephen’s face.
Hodges, who always refused to take festival day off, came pacing gravely into the hall. “Your presence is requested on the terrace, my lady,” he said.
“Thank you, Hodges. I will be right there.”
“Goodness,” said Nell, “is it time for the presentation already?”
Every year the tenants presented me with an enormous bouquet of flowers to thank me for the festival.
“It must be,” I said. “Nell, why don’t you make sure Stephen gets something to eat?”
“I’m not hungry,” Stephen said.
Nell put her hand on his elbow and pushed him gently in the direction of the library. “You still look too pale. Come and sit down and I’ll get you some food and drink.”
I left Stephen to Nell’s tender ministrations and made my escape to the terrace and the gallantry of Edmund Burres, the most senior of all our tenant farmers.
* * * *
By eight o’clock the music was finished, the August light was beginning to fade, and the party was fast thinning out. I could not endure the thought of facing Mama in the drawing room, so I collected the dogs from my office, where they had spent most of the day, and walked toward the lake to make certain that no one was still out on the water.
The lake was deserted. Someone had dragged the boats up onto the shore, where they rested, upside-down, in front of the icehouse. We usually kept only one boat in the water during the summer and stored the others in the fishing pavilion, to be used as needed.
I sat on the steps of the fishing pavilion and watched the dogs. They kept racing back to me, as if to assure themselves that I was really there, and then they would tear up and down the shore, stretching legs that had been unusually confined all day. The setting sun was low in the sky, touching the tops of the trees with a reddish glow. I wrapped my arms around my knees and listened to the gentle sound of lakewater lapping against the shore.
In my mind’s eye I saw again Stephen’s shocked face.
He really had not known.
I hugged my knees tighter and wondered what he was going to do.
Portia came up for a quick check-in. “I’m still here,” I told her softly, and, reassured, she ran back to join her brother. Both dogs were wet by now. Mama would have an apoplexy when she saw them.
I heard voices coming from the direction of the house, and the dogs went racing past me on their way to greet the newcomers. I stood up and smoothed my skirt with fingers that trembled slightly. One of the voices had belonged to Stephen.
He was accompanied by Jasper and Nell.
“Is everyone hiding from Mama?” I asked brightly as they came up to me.
Nell shook her head. “It isn’t so much your mother, Annabelle. We’re accustomed to her. It’s the duke.”
Jasper turned to Stephen. “You should have heard Giles at breakfast, Stephen. He told us that Gerald once called the duke an ‘old fart’!”
Stephen produced the expected smile. I realized I was staring at his mouth and made myself look instead at Jasper. I had not seen him all day, as he had been stationed here at the lake to make certain everyone behaved themselves in the boats.
“You performed heroically, Jasper,” I said. “We
managed to get through the entire day without anyone falling into the water.”
Jasper chuckled. “I gave everyone instructions in my best commanding officer voice before I let them get into a boat. Even the friskiest youngsters were afraid to stand up, with me posted on the shore glowering at them.”
“Were you out here all day, Jasper?” Stephen asked.
“Jack relieved me for a while.”
“It is one of my greatest fears on festival day that someone will drown in the lake,” I confessed.
Merlin shook himself, showering us all with drops of lakewater. Nell squeaked and jumped out of the way.
The four of us stood talking for a while longer, but I scarcely heard a word that was said. All my senses were centered on Stephen. I didn’t look at him, but I felt him there. I had never needed to look at Stephen to know where he was.
“I have been wondering where the four of you were hiding yourselves!”
It was Adam, approaching us from the direction of the house.
“Oh dear,” I said, “have we left Aunt Fanny saddled with Mama and the duke?”
Adam chuckled. “The rector had that chore for most of the day, but he left about an hour ago. I told him he had earned himself a halo.”
We all laughed.
“Miss Stedham asked me to tell you that Giles is not feeling well and is asking for you, Annabelle,” Adam said.
I felt the sudden tension in Stephen.
I sighed. “Too much food and too much excitement and then he can’t go to sleep. I’ll read to him for a while; that usually does it.”
Nell said, “He was running around with Georgie Miller the whole day, and every time I saw them they had something in their mouths.”
I moved to Adam’s side, and together we turned and began to return along the gravel path. Jasper moved to my other side, and Nell and Stephen fell in behind us.
The sun had gone down, and the sky was that soft shade of gray it turns before the true blackness of night sets in. I walked between Uncle Adam and Jasper and listened to the sound of Nell’s voice chatting away to Stephen and wondered how he was going to manage to get me alone.
Chapter Eleven
It was close to ten o’clock when I came back downstairs, looked into the drawing room, and discovered my mother, the duke, Aunt Fanny, and Uncle Adam having an early tea. I stepped into the room, planning to say good night, but Aunt Fanny gave me such a piteous look that I changed my mind and reluctantly accepted a cup of tea from Mama.
“How is Giles?” Aunt Fanny asked.
“Asleep,” I replied. “He was overexcited, that is all.”
“You should not allow him to fraternize with the tenants’ children, Annabelle.” The duke managed to look down his nose and at the same time balance a Wedgwood china plate containing a slice of cake on his knee. Remarkable.
I sipped my tea and answered mildly, “He is a child and he needs to play with other children.”
The ducal eyebrows drew together in an awe-inducing frown. “Before he is a child, he is the Earl of Weston. He should be taught never to forget that.”
My mother seconded her husband. “Saye is giving you good advice, Annabelle. You have always been over-inclined to socialize with your inferiors. It is to be hoped that you don’t encourage Gerald’s son to do the same.
Gerald
never demeaned himself by pretending he was the equal of a farmer.”
I said pleasantly, “Gerald had a brother and cousins to play with. Giles is not so fortunate.”
My mother and I stared at each over the teapot.
Aunt Fanny said in a breathless voice, “The day went beautifully, Annabelle.”
Adam nobly seconded his wife’s effort. “Yes,” he said, “you gave happiness to a great many people. It was the right decision to hold the festival.”
Dear Aunt Fanny and Uncle Adam. I smiled at them and said, “It did go smoothly, didn’t it?”
“I don’t know what possessed you to allow all those people into the house,” Mama complained. “I was in terror that something would be broken. Or stolen!”
“I’ll have a little more of that cake, Regina,” Adam said.
As my mother deftly slipped a slice of lemon cake onto a plate, I said, “The only things in the gallery besides the food were the portraits, Mama.”
In fact, I had ordered the gallery cleared not because I feared theft, but because I knew how difficult it was for parents to keep inquisitive little fingers from touching. I would not have grieved if a vase was broken, but the parents of the child who broke it would have been horrified.
Aunt Fanny made another valiant contribution to the conversation. “My, those portraits were popular. There was a queue of people all afternoon waiting to look at them.”
Mama said, “And those people also came into the dining room, Fanny, where the Weston silver was displayed on the sideboard!”
I raised my brows in a charade of elaborate surprise. “It was not in my plan to allow people into the dining room,” I said. “Who let them in there?”
My mother did not look at all chagrined but replied with regal dignity, “It was only natural for people to wish to see the portraits of Weston and myself. I authorized Fanny to allow them in the dining room.”
Adam winked at me from behind his lemon cake, and I had to bite my lip to keep from smiling.
The duke said, “The duchess and I felt obligated to remain in the dining room ourselves, to keep a watch on the silver.”
The thought of the ducal pair spending their entire afternoon guarding the silver struck me as so humorous that I had to raise my hand and feign a cough to keep from laughing out loud.