Elizabeth saw little of Frederick Gascoine in the days before Christmas. Having a few spare moments one afternoon, she decided she would look round Sir William’s collection. She knew which room it was in and was intrigued. The door was not locked, but it was heavy. When she opened it the room seemed too neat and tidy, and rather bland.
She went to a nearby case and looked in. It was the loveliest of little pieces of material from the summit of a mountain in India. She surveyed them gravely. They were absolutely perfect and each one looked like a little coil of rope.
Suddenly, she became aware of the door opening. When she looked up she suddenly felt guilty and stared at the floor instead, with a deep red blush covering her face and neck. It was Robert Gascoine.
‘Miss Baines. I hope I don’t intrude. So you have finally come to see Papa’s collection?’
She wanted to explain about the language used when Frederick pinioned her arm and would not let her go. It was only because of Preston having her in his power. Her voice trailed away and she was silent.
‘Shall we just say that it was in the heat of the moment and his stupid larks were a complete surprise? That would explain your shock,’ he said.
As though she hadn’t spoken, he carried on talking, taking her round the gallery, showing her the artefacts and explaining where they had come from, until gradually she lost her feelings of acute embarrassment.
She stood next to him, unaware that she was so straight and tall now that she had reached eighteen. He was very conscious of her and thought of facts which would be of interest to her, meanwhile watching her face to see which fossils she liked.
He thought she liked the strata of the Alps. It was a much convoluted one due to the convulsions on a stupendous scale, due to the volcanic action, he told her. The offering from this part was a small piece of material alive with the tiny shells from the bottom of the sea. She liked these, and the open and expressive face told him so.
Soon it was time to go and see if Lady Gascoine was ready to go to tea with another friend of Isabella Mason’s. They were all looking forward to Christmas and Elizabeth felt a quiet happiness about her position in life.
It seemed that Frederick Gascoine was not. Although she saw little of him in the days immediately before the festival, she noticed that at dinner he was either morose or truculent until even his fond mama began to lose patience with him. It was obvious that he didn’t win as many wagers as he would like her to believe and his intended father-in-law was proving to be a disappointment to him.
‘He seems such a killjoy,’ he said. ‘I know that when she marries me, Isabella’s fortune will pass into my hands and yet he is so miserably mean, he won’t consider advancing anything of the loot on my account.’
There was an uncomfortable silence and even Lady Gascoine seemed to find this sort of talk unsuitable. She and his aunt made no response and Elizabeth looked down at her plate, reluctant to hear any of Frederick’s confidences about his finances. Only Robert expressed polite interest and asked what had happened.
‘Why, I put to the old miser that as Isabella and I were to be wed in less than five months, it wouldn’t be behind the door for him to consider a few thou’ in advance. I pointed out the expenditure I’d be incurring in refurbishing Hawton House and enlarging the dower house at Waringham for dear Mama, not to mention the expenses of my own wedding clothes and the celebrations for our friends in town and celebrations in Norfolk.’
‘And what was Mr Mason’s reaction, Frederick?’
‘Papa’s will, sealed and delivered and that was his final word. He hinted that as Papa had died such a wealthy man, there should be no need for his heir to look for an advance of any kind.’
‘I am sure that Mr Mason feels he is doing right by Isabella and acting in her best interests,’ Robert said guardedly. ‘It would be foolish indeed of him if he were to break into Isabella’s portion without assurances of seeing her settled in wedlock. Has a date been settled for the signing of the marriage settlement?’
‘Middle of February,’ Frederick muttered resentfully, ‘but I shan’t feel secure in my mind until that fortune is in my hands.’
Robert said mildly that Hawton House was large enough as it stood and Frederick’s mama exclaimed that she would manage famously in the dower house, with no more extra expenditure than some new drawing-room curtains. Robert added that Frederick’s wedding clothes need not be ordered yet.
‘There’s plenty of time to get your tailor to supply you,’ he said kindly. ‘And you needn’t pay him until the year’s end, you know. As for myself, I know you will want Hawton House for yourself and your bride. When Mama moves to the dower house, I shall buy myself a modest townhouse and set up my own establishment.’
Frederick dismissed his brother’s plans contemptuously. ‘Pooh!’ he exclaimed as usual. ‘That’s typical of you, Robert. A modest townhouse is the summit of your aspirations and that’s all your stupid collections of pictures and fossils warrant. Not everyone has such trifling ambitions. I’m seeking to extend my estate and take my bride to a far grander home. I shan’t feel comfortable in my mind until Isabella’s fortune is in my hands.’
And what of Isabella’s happiness? Elizabeth thought. Wouldn’t that be in Frederick’s hands too? She felt a pang of sympathy for Isabella Mason, about to be wed to such a dissolute and selfish man. She wondered why he never spoke of Isabella – only her fortune which would one day be his. Once more, she wondered at the blindness of love. Would Isabella gradually have her eyes opened to Frederick’s true character when they were wed and it was too late?
Christmas was now nearly upon them and Lady Gascoine’s plans to entertain her sister and the Mason family were well under way. She gave Elizabeth a few hours off in order that she might do some shopping in Norwich and Bradbury was also keen to go. At the last minute, Robert offered to accompany them in his carriage, saying that he wished to visit a dealer who had a small sculpture he was interested in. They arranged to meet at the King’s Arms for luncheon when they had completed their purchases. There was a light flurry of snow before they set off but it didn’t seem to be settling and the three of them were in good humour as they parted to go their separate ways. Elizabeth and Bradbury had plenty of time to shop before luncheon and set about it with some intent.
Elizabeth was unsure about Christmas gifts. Bradbury advised that a small token for Lady Gascoine and Miss Gibson would suffice and that the two gentlemen would neither expect nor appreciate any Christmas tokens.
‘In any case,’ she said, ‘what possible gift could either of us afford that would please a wealthy gentleman? Leather riding gloves? A silver brandy flask? Either of those would take a whole year’s allowance and, in any case, both gentlemen have an abundance of such articles. Anything less than these trifles would be insulting. For the ladies, though, a lace handkerchief is possible, or a box of sweetmeats, perhaps.’
Elizabeth was thoughtful. She understood the impossibility of buying gifts for Robert and his brother but was determined to get something for Bradbury as well as the two other ladies. In the end, after much inward debate, she obtained a top-of-the-range, sable-hair watercolour brush for Miss Gibson and a small, exquisitely worked sachet of Norfolk lavender for Her Ladyship’s dressing-table drawer. The choice for Bradbury was much harder, but she knew that lady was a skilled seamstress who made many of her own clothes. After much hesitation, she went back to the drapers on her own and purchased a length of fine Bruges lace, enough to edge a petticoat. It was all of two inches and bound to please a lady as skilled with a needle as Bradbury.
As they waited for the coach to take them to the King’s Arms, Elizabeth clutched her precious purchases and hugged herself with the thought that even after a morning’s shopping, she still had luncheon with Robert Gascoine to look forward to. He’d booked a private parlour for them, and the two ladies were soon settled in front of a cosy fire, surrounded by their parcels, bonnets and cloaks removed and enjoying a glass of Madeira, as they waited for their host. They were to be entirely private and serve themselves when the luncheon was brought in, and both of them were in a relaxed mood.
He strode into the room a trifle late, bringing a waft of the cold December air with him and carrying a small package done up in brown paper. His face was glowing and alive with the cold and his unusual brown and green eyes were sparkling with pleasure. If Sir Frederick Gascoine had once been the most handsome man she’d ever seen, she was obliged to revise her opinion. There was nothing of Frederick’s petulance or bad temper in Robert’s fine-featured face. He was openly pleased to see them and delighted with his little marble statue of a tiny cherubic baby by Bernini, its face angelic and chubby, its little arms and legs plump and curved.
‘I got it for a song,’ he declared and for the first time Elizabeth dared to tease him a little. She looked at him mischievously from under her long lashes.
‘Oh, you sang, did you, sir? And was the dealer kind enough to let you have it on condition that you went and sang elsewhere?’
He laughed at this and even Bradbury smiled. ‘No, you baggage,’ he said. ‘I merely offered the right price at the right time.’
‘And were there other gentlemen desiring to buy the sculpture?’
‘There were some, but most of them were not as single-minded as I am myself. Most of them have other things to occupy them. But tell me, what do ladies buy when they have no other occupations?’
‘That is Miss Bradbury’s and my secret,’ Elizabeth laughed. ‘But I do assure you, sir, that they are not the result of us having no useful occupation. Miss Bradbury and I are always occupied. We sew and sketch and keep Lady Gascoine and Miss Gibson company. We read, change our library books, go for walks….’
All the while, she was laughing and Robert was quite enchanted by the animated girl in front of him. His eyes held hers for a long moment before Bradbury broke the spell by pointedly removing the cover from a roasted chine of mutton, surrounded by beans and bacon.
Robert served it out gravely and poured three glasses of fine claret. The three of them were in such good mood, no one wanted the luncheon to end.
‘You must acknowledge, my dear Miss Baines,’ Robert said with mock formality, ‘that the Bernini is a prize I never hoped to possess.’
‘It certainly looks beautiful,’ she said.
‘Yes and so lifelike that the eyes seem to be looking at one with absolute trust and innocent delight.’
‘No. Do they? Then I must look at the eyes very carefully, sir.’
‘Yes. If only you would bestow such a look upon me. I wish you would.’
In spite of the lightness of his tone, Elizabeth’s heart suddenly seemed to jump into her throat and then began to thump so violently that she felt breathless and uncomfortably hot.
It was difficult to speak but she stammered, ‘Sir, I think … I think that … you cannot mean that…. You are just … just flirting.’
‘No. Believe me. I have never tried to flirt with you,’ he protested, but she could hear the laughter in his voice.
Bradbury maintained a tactful silence at this and Elizabeth wondered how she felt at the idea of acting as duenna. She felt compelled to glance at him from under her lashes. Immediately, she realized it was not a very prudent thing to do. She saw the smile in his eyes and he was looking at her, while pretending not to, in a way that made her heart beat more violently than ever. Neither of them spoke and Bradbury matter-of-factly served out the apple dumplings and English custard, as though completely unaware that Elizabeth’s heart was turning somersaults and that she was now afraid to look at him.
The meal ended all too soon and they gathered their packages together and dressed ready to depart. While Robert settled the tally, Bradbury and Elizabeth adjusted their bonnets and fastened their winter cloaks against the cold. Elizabeth was acutely conscious of Robert by her side as he pressed her hand briefly and mentioned the statue again.
‘You must come to the statue gallery tomorrow, Miss Baines, and see my new treasure,’ he said to her. ‘And Miss Bradbury too, if you should wish it, ma’am. This is smaller than any in my collection and yet I think it is absolutely exquisite.’
The next day was Christmas Eve and it was curiosity that drove her to the statue gallery. This was a room she had not been in. It opened off the room with the stones and fossils. She noticed the new acquisition straight away. Showing it off in the King’s Arms did not do it justice. In the statue room it seemed almost to live and breathe. The lovely little arms were raised as though the baby wanted to be picked up and Elizabeth thought the face must be that of an angel. The eyes were just as appealing as Robert said and, as she stood in silent contemplation of the little marble figure, she was suddenly aware that he was standing beside her.
‘You’ve found my Bernini,’ he said. ‘Is it not as tender and lifelike as I said?’
‘It certainly is, sir.’ Then she smiled at him. ‘Well worth the song, I think.’
‘Yes, indeed. It is difficult to evaluate a sculpture by Bernini. They can usually only be judged in the setting for which they were made. It came from one of the ruined Baroque churches in Rome and at first I thought it might be a piece attributed to a sculptor of Bernini’s following. Now I am convinced it is by the master himself.’
‘I hope you didn’t mind my curiosity, sir. Lady Gascoine is lying down. And I had a few minutes to spare so I … I….’
‘Not at all,’ he said. ‘I am delighted that you are able to take pleasure in my few artefacts. Tomorrow is Christmas Day and you will have very few minutes to spare. The Gascoine family has a long tradition of going for a ride on Christmas Day after luncheon. I expect my mother has mentioned it to you. Shall you be joining us, Miss Baines?’
‘Well … I … am but an indifferent horsewoman,’ Elizabeth stammered. ‘I went riding at Miss Hanbury’s, of course. I have never … never been any good at it. I should probably disgrace the Gascoine family by my … my inept riding skills.’
She was remembering the humiliation of her very first time on horseback, at the Hanbury Academy, when she was so frightened of mounting the gentle hack assigned to her that she nearly fainted.
Once more he was looking at her with amusement. ‘I fear you’re too modest, but I can mount you on the gentlest little cob, if you should care to join us.’
And there was no escape. Even Lady Gascoine and Bradbury joined the riders after lunch as they assembled in front of Waringham Hall, with the Mason family and a couple of grooms. Elizabeth blessed Miss Gibson, who kitted her out so splendidly for her riding lessons at the academy. Her elegant habit was still a perfect fit and with the help of the groom she was able to mount gracefully and sit beautifully on her horse. She adjusted her skirts, pulling on her gloves and holding her small ladylike riding crop. Her mount was called Lucinda and once on her back, Elizabeth displayed a confidence she didn’t feel. But then, she thought, appearance was all. The first six riding lessons she’d had at Miss Hanbury’s had been devoted exclusively to mounting and sitting with graceful ease, first on a wooden mount and then, when she and the other novices were deemed ready, they were allowed to progress to a living, breathing beast. In spite of her fear, she had never disgraced herself by falling off and after the first few minutes she felt firmly in control of the gentle Lucinda.
The Mason girls came across to speak to her and Lady Gascoine outlined briefly the route they would take. ‘We shall go through Waringham village to the Fitchwell high road which leads to the clifftop bridleway past the lighthouse and St Edmund’s arch, as far as Fitchwell and then turn back down along the old road to Waringham.’
The party set off at a steady pace and Elizabeth was careful to keep near to Sir Frederick’s groom, Kelly, who was mounted on a huge chestnut gelding. The horse was to have a bit of a canter along the cliffs but for now was moving as sedately as any of the ladies’ mounts. Kelly was tall and broad, handling the horse easily, and Elizabeth gradually began to relax into the rise and fall of Lucinda’s rhythm as she kept abreast of him.
The watery sun was now beginning to thaw the hoar frost which touched every leaf and grass blade along the way, making everything sparkle like fairyland. Elizabeth began to feel exhilarated. She looked about her at the view of the pounding grey sea, so far below them, and her eyes sought out the figure of Robert Gascoine, mounted on a magnificent grey and deep in conversation with Miss Isabella Mason. Several people came up to her, the youngest girl, and then Mr Mason, who seemed determined to speak of Ireland.
Kelly moved forward to canter along the grassy cliff with Sir Frederick. Elizabeth continued to admire the magnificent view and breathe in the cold air as she chatted quietly to Edward Mason. She felt suddenly at peace, as consciously happy as she had ever done in the whole of her life.
Everything went well until they turned back to go along the old road. Then, Frederick galloped towards her, still giving his horse the opportunity to stretch its legs and have its head for a brief time. As he slowed down behind her, for some reason Lucinda took fright at his sudden approach and began to throw back her head and then duck it down again as she danced sideways. Elizabeth shortened the rein as she had been taught by the riding master, but Lucinda was decidedly unsettled and continued to side-step and buck, as Elizabeth tried in vain to control the normally serene little mare. The situation was hardly helped by Frederick, now coming alongside and slapping Lucinda on the rump, telling Elizabeth roughly to ‘get a grip on the damned animal’.
This was the last straw. Lucinda gave one last almighty heave and Elizabeth was unseated. She sailed over the horse’s head and landed in a heap on the wet, frosty road. Isabella, who was close behind them, gave a sharp scream of alarm and Robert galloped up immediately and flung himself down from his horse to crouch beside her. Frederick’s reaction was slower. He climbed down from his horse and motioned to Kelly to take the still-bucking mare under control.
The others gradually grouped themselves round as Robert carefully supported Elizabeth’s head and looked anxiously into her white face. He took her gloved hands and began to chafe her wrists.
‘Thank God at least there’s a pulse,’ he said.
Edward Mason crouched on the other side of her. Her smart riding hat had fallen off and rolled a little way away. He picked it up carefully and said, ‘Her eyes are fluttering, old chap. The road is very cold and hard. Perhaps she would be more comfortable if we could help her to sit up.’
He reached inside his greatcoat and produced a little phial of brandy. It seemed like an eternity, but at last the blue eyes opened and she began to splutter and choke on the brandy that was being forced between her white lips. Her face was deathly pale but her eyes sought those of Robert Gascoine’s as she attempted to sit up.
‘Steady, Elizabeth,’ he said. ‘Easy does it, my dear.’ He slid an arm under her shoulders and Edward Mason attempted to replace her hat.
Elizabeth winced and let out an involuntary groan of pain as his gentle fingers caught the lump on the back of her head. ‘What is it? Where does it hurt you?’
Robert’s eyes expressed such anxiety and alarm that Elizabeth attempted to reassure him. ‘I told you I was an indifferent horsewoman,’ she said, attempting a smile, ‘and now I have a headache to prove it.’
With the utmost care and gentleness, he removed the hat once more and carefully felt the back of her head, searching for injury. There was no cut or wound, only a massive egg-shaped lump. ‘Do you have any pain anywhere else?’
‘No, I … I… don’t think so.’ With Edward and Robert’s help, she managed to stand upright, albeit on legs that were trembling uncontrollably, and she had to lean against Robert for support.
Kelly appeared at that moment, leading the now docile mare and said, ‘Begging pardon, sir. Shall I help Miss Baines to remount?’
‘No,’ said Robert shortly. ‘Miss Baines will ride with me. Lead the mare back home.’
The whole party now expressed relief and pleasure that Elizabeth was not seriously hurt and regrouped for the rest of the journey home as Edward Mason and Kelly lifted her up in front of Robert on his large grey horse. Still shaken and dizzy, Elizabeth found herself once more in his sure and comfortable grasp. From the safety of those strong, protective arms, it seemed such a long way to the wet, hard ground and she shuddered. He felt the tremor and tightened his hold somewhat, drawing her even closer to him. She tried to sit a little straighter to avoid too intimate a contact but it made the pain in her head throb unbearably. She couldn’t help leaning against him and pressing herself against the warmth and comfort of his body. Thankfully, she rested her aching head on his strong chest and, what with the brandy and her slight concussion, she was forced to relax and enjoy the moment.
Bradbury had ridden on ahead to organize the maids to prepare a bath for her and Robert Gascoine leaned closer to say, ‘We shall soon be home, my love, and then you can be cared for properly. I shall ask Dr Godfrey to call in the morning.’
As he spoke, his lips brushed against her hair and Elizabeth almost wept at the tender concern in his voice. She knew he was only being kind to his mama’s insignificant young companion but for the first time in her life Elizabeth began to have an inkling of what it must be like to be loved. Once again, she had the elusive feeling of her mother’s presence, and wondered what it would be like to be loved unconditionally, as her mama would love her. She wondered what it would be like to have a man’s love. Not the quiet motherly love of Miss Gibson and Bradbury, or the hateful attentions of Captain Preston, but the close intimacy which could exist between a man and a woman who loved each other. A gentleman like Robert Gascoine, who could show her the kind of romantic love that so constantly preoccupied the young girls at Miss Hanbury’s. It would be such a privilege to feel the passion and affection that Robert could give a woman. To feel his touch, not merely the cool contact of his caring hands, but the hot caress of a lover. She longed for the firm pressure of his lips against her own as she swayed backwards, even nearer to him, and she knew that she would return such a kiss with unbridled passion.
The object of her thoughts remained outwardly calm as they made their gentle progress back to Waringham Hall, but inwardly he was only gradually losing the sensation of horror that he felt when he’d seen that slight crumpled body in the middle of the road. His heart had pounded and his mouth had been dry as he’d bent over her, fearing the worst. Now he was somewhat calmer, he remembered other details of the accident. The delicious softness of her hair as he’d felt for the injury to her head, the trust in her blue gaze as her eyes had opened and sought his own. He had to confess to himself how much this meant to him, how pleasurable he found having the yielding young body so near to him, how much he wanted to rest his lips on the soft fragrant hair so close to his cheek.
Stop! Stop this at once, he thought wildly. It was not a suitable thought for a man in his position. She trusts you and you’ve no business to think of her in such a way. You would be a libertine and a scoundrel to even imagine taking advantage of her!
They turned into the drive at Waringham Hall and as soon as the front door was opened, he lifted Elizabeth down and carried her up to her bedroom. Miss Gibson and Bradbury were soon in attendance and he noticed that even his mama was inclined to fuss round the bedside, ordering the maid to put her in her nightgown and bring up a hot brick and an extra blanket. Inwardly, he was relieved to relinquish his beautiful burden and go to his own bedchamber for a warm bath after that ride. But he couldn’t rid himself of the feel of her slender waist as he’d held her in front of him. He stretched himself more voluptuously in the warm water and gradually began to relax.
What would it be like to have those shapely young lips next to his, to feel her softness against his naked body? The thought of that golden hair, loose and brushing against his skin, made him wild with longing for her. But this was madness! He must take great care not to be alone with Elizabeth Baines for both their sakes.