Chapter Six

 

There was no evergreen windbreak in 1818, so the view over the valley was unbroken as Laura followed the butler to the gardens. As she scanned the valley for the stream and the field gate, she saw a flash of sunlight on glass under the solitary elm tree a little further along the lane. The carriage Ha’penny Jack had mentioned! She gazed intently, and was able to see enough of it to know it was very like the one she’d noticed yesterday. There wasn’t time to wonder more about it because the butler led her further around the house and the view changed.

Suddenly she could see the canal. It curved from an adjoining valley like a silver ribbon, passed a waterside inn, and then came directly toward the hillside before vanishing somewhere below the Deveril House gardens. Barges moved slowly on the shining water, and more were moored along the bank. A whitewashed cottage, right on the canal bank, stood directly at the foot of the hill, and as she looked, a man ran into view from where she believed the tunnel portal must be. He called to a woman hanging washing in the cottage garden, and she immediately left what she was doing. More men came from the cottage and nearby barges, to gather concernedly by the cottage gate. Laura could tell something was wrong, but then the curve of the hill cut the view as the butler conducted her across a sunny terrace in front of the house, and down balustraded stone steps to the sloping flower-edged lawns.

Gardeners were scything the grass, much to the annoyance of the peacocks, whose complaining cries echoed in the warm air. Beyond the birds’ noise, Laura heard laughter, and then saw Blair, Marianna and Stephen in an arbor that was overgrown with roses. They were seated on white-painted wrought iron chairs enjoying cool glasses of lemonade from a tray on a little table, and Blair’s three spaniels were on the grass at his feet.

* * * *

It was an idyllic scene of which Laura could hardly believe she was part, even if only briefly, but as the butler led her across the sweet-smelling lawn, she knew it was all very real.

Marianna wore a yellow and white gown and a wide-brimmed yellow silk hat with daisies around the crown, and her shawl and red velvet reticule lay on the table before her. She was seated beside Stephen, who had on a green coat and fawn breeches. He glanced at his love with an open adoration that would be impossible to misinterpret if Blair chanced to look, and it told Laura the Weymouth liaison had been resumed right here at Deveril House. The lovers were defying all the rules, and were guilty of betraying Blair’s trust. Heaven help Stephen if they were found out, she thought.

Her attention moved to Blair himself. He was in an informal gray coat and cream breeches, and the light breeze ruffled his dark hair and unstarched neckcloth. For a moment he looked directly at her. His face bore no interpretable expression, except that his brown eyes were perhaps a little quizzical. His unsmiling lips certainly gave nothing away. She was very conscious of the immediate barrier he raised. It was an invisible, impenetrable but almost tangible shield.

She had no way of knowing what he was thinking, but for her the attraction he exerted hadn’t diminished at all. Merely looking at him set her at sixes and sevens, and to gaze into his eyes was to know a desire that verged upon the sinful. He wrought havoc with her common sense, and in those few moments it was very hard to remember that her nineteenth-century self had come here unwillingly to do Sir Miles Lowestoft’s work. But the Laura of the future wasn’t at all unwilling; in fact, she was swept along by the sheer excitement of these travels in time. And by the exhilarating feelings this man aroused. In this at least she knew she and her Regency alter ego were united, for they were both strongly drawn to Sir Blair Deveril.

The butler announced her, and Blair stood. “Very well, Harcourt.”

Harcourt? Of course! Laura suddenly realized why the butler had seemed so familiar—his bushy-browed blue eyes were the same as those of the man in the wheelchair. He must be Gulliver Harcourt’s ancestor!

Blair inclined his head to her. “Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Sir.” She dipped a curtsey.

Stephen had also risen and murmured her name, but he avoided her eyes as if knowing she’d already perceived the way things were between Marianna and him.

She acknowledged them in the same way. “Mr. Woodville. Miss Deveril.”

Blair drew out one of the wrought iron chairs. “Please take a seat, Mrs. Reynolds. Would you care for some lemonade?”

“That would be most agreeable, thank you, Sir Blair.”

The scent of roses was heady as they all sat down, and when ice chinked in the crystal jug, Laura was reminded of the ice in the ballroom. Where did it all come from at this time of the year? There were no freezers in this age!

Marianna smiled at her. “I trust you’ve recovered from the ball, Mrs. Reynolds?”

“Yes, thank you. I was truly honored to attend.” Blair’s gaze was still upon her, and Laura couldn’t help meeting his eyes. An electric current seemed to so charge the air between them that it crackled.

Marianna spoke again. “You did not stay long. Was something wrong?”

“I…felt a little unwell,” Laura answered untruthfully.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. Are you better now?”

“Much better, thank you.”

“Good.” Marianna smiled. “Well, I confess I enjoyed every moment of it; indeed, I shall be twenty again soon in order to have another,” she declared, her flirtatious glance briefly encompassing Stephen, who had the grace to color a little.

Marianna went on, “I trust you will not find country life too dull before we go to London, Mrs. Reynolds?”

She spoke as if it had been settled, and the forthcoming interview a mere formality, but Blair’s face told a different story. Laura managed to smile at her. “Country life is always pleasing, Miss Deveril.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to have my first proper Season, but at the same time I’ll hate to leave Deveril House.” Marianna gazed up at the house. “I love it so much here,” she breathed.

Laura saw how Blair looked at his sister. His eyes seemed unaccountably sad. What was he thinking?

Marianna gave a quick laugh. “I’m afraid I get quite foolish about this house.”

Laura smiled. “I can quite understand why, Miss Deveril. I’m sure I’d feel the same if I lived here.”

“You don’t think me silly?”

“Of course not.” Laura returned her glance to Blair, and with something of a shock found herself meeting his gaze again. The atmosphere between them was such they might have been the only people present.

Marianna’s unsettling lack of diplomacy sprang to the fore again. “Oh, Blair, I hope you’re going to honor your promise, for I do so like Mrs. Reynolds and want her to be my chaperone.”

He bridled slightly. “Since when have I not honored a promise?”

“I don’t know, but you may choose to make an exception of this occasion because she’s so like Celina.”

Blair flushed angrily. “That will do, Marianna.”

“Forgive me, Blair, but it has to be said.”

“No, miss, it doesn’t!” he snapped.

Laura exchanged a dismayed glance with Stephen. If Marianna wished to sabotage everything, she was going the right way about it. Blair clearly found the resemblance to his late wife something that was very hard to accept, and his sister’s careless observations didn’t help in the least.

At last Marianna realized she’d trodden on sensitive ground, and became effusively apologetic, which was almost as bad. “Oh, Blair, I—I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean anything, truly! Oh, I feel dreadful now. Please forgive me, I just didn’t think.”

“You seldom do.” Blair stood, and turned to Laura. “Mrs. Reynolds, perhaps you and I should walk together, away from unwelcome interruption?”

Marianna blushed. She blushed still more when she caught Stephen’s eye and saw disapproval written there.

Laura rose, and as she slipped her gloved hand over his sleeve, she was aware that even such a formal act became sensuous because it was him. As if it was merely a prelude to much, much more...

The arbor was close to steps down into a private walled garden that was overhung to one side by mature trees. Pattering paws on the flagged path to the fountain signaled canine company as Blair assisted Laura down the steps. An Italianate marble fountain, encircled by a decorative parapet upon which to sit, played among formal flowerbeds that were also Italian in layout. The sound of water was refreshing, and as sunlight flashed through the cascades Laura didn’t need to be told that it was Celina’s garden, because the late Lady Deveril’s presence was almost physical.

Blair spoke suddenly. “Mrs. Reynolds, I trust you’ll excuse my sister’s lack of reserve. I fear she believes in saying what she thinks.”

“I seem to recall that last night you were equally as forthright,” she replied, because plain speaking wasn’t the sole preserve of the Deverils.

He didn’t respond, but invited her with a gesture to be seated on the fountain’s stone parapet. Then he took out a Spanish cigar. “Do you mind if I smoke, Mrs. Reynolds’?”

“Not at all, sir.”

He searched for his luminaries, and shortly afterward a thin curl of smoke rose from the cigar. He looked at her. “You’re justified in pointing out my rather ungallant conduct last night. I’m afraid I coped rather badly. I’ll be honest with you. I hoped that this morning your resemblance to Celina might be less apparent, but you’re a painful reminder of losing her two years ago.”

His sadness carved through Laura like a knife, and she loathed Sir Miles Lowestoft even more than before. Nothing excused the vicious spite behind the plot, and she hated herself for having anything to do with it, albeit under duress. She was helping shatter what was left of Blair Deveril’s already broken heart, and it was despicable. For a moment she couldn’t speak, but at last found her tongue. “I—I’m sorry I’ve aroused sad memories, Sir Blair.”

“It’s hardly your fault, Mrs. Reynolds, “nor is your resemblance to Celina of the significance I think you fear.”

She didn’t understand. “It isn’t?”

“No.” He met her gaze, and added, “It has a bearing, of course, but is far from being everything.”

She still didn’t understand, and it seemed he had no intention of explaining, for he continued, “Truth to tell, everything reminds me of Celina anyway, especially this house, and this particular garden. It’s become too much.”

She looked quickly at him. “Too much?”

He smiled a little wryly. “Don’t misunderstand, Mrs. Reynolds. I don’t intend to put an end to myself, it’s simply that Deveril House is full of constant memories, and the only way to be free is to sell and leave. In fact, it’s already a fait accompli, and when I sign the documents in a day or so, Deveril House will have a new owner.”

Laura’s lips parted. “But, isn’t this your ancestral home?”

“Yes, it is, but I’ve ceased to regard it as such. It has been…sullied.”

“Haven’t you embarked upon refurbishment?” she asked, puzzled.

“Some, yes. The work was put in hand before I made my decision to sell up. Now the new owner wishes it to be finished.”

“The new owner? You mean, you’ve already sold?” She was more startled than ever. “I thought you said it would be done in a few days.”

He drew on the cigar and then exhaled slowly. “Yes, the deeds and other documents will be finally signed then, but the sale has been fully agreed. I’ve bought a new estate in Ireland called Castle Liscoole, but Marianna doesn’t yet know anything, so I’d appreciate it if you didn’t mention it in front of her.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, sir, although I think perhaps you should say something soon,” she replied, recalling Marianna’s declarations about the house a few minutes earlier.

“I know, but my reasoning is that the Season, her imminent betrothal and her marriage to Alex Handworth will occupy her too much to be concerned about what happens to Deveril House.”

“With respect, Sir Blair, your view cannot help but be that of a man, and therefore very different indeed from that of a woman. In my opinion Marianna will be distraught when she learns. On the other hand, you’ve known her all her life, and may be right. If so, all well and good, but if you’re wrong...”

“Being presented with a fait accompli is too cruel?”

“Not cruel exactly, more unfortunate.”

“How tactful you are,” he said a little dryly. He was about to say more when something caught his attention in the valley. It was another flash of light from the mysterious carriage, which was visible again from this lower point on the hill. “Someone’s using a telescope,” he murmured.

Laura looked too. Was that what it was? She’d thought it was the sun on the carriage window.

He returned to the subject in hand. “Mrs. Reynolds, I realize I’m laboring the point, but until I feel the time is right to tell Marianna, it really is important you say nothing.”

“I’ve already given you my word, sir.”

“Now I fear I’ve offended you.”

“There’s nothing over which to take offense, sir,” she replied.

He fell silent, and she studied him surreptitiously. He was toying absently with his wedding ring, half removing it and then pushing it firmly back into place again. The subconscious gesture screamed of his inability to put the past behind him. He’d gone so far as to actually sell Deveril House itself, but just as he made the bold and irrevocable move, a woman who was the living likeness of Celina came to haunt him again.

Never had he seemed more hauntingly Byronic than he did at that moment. The air of enigmatic sadness surrounding him might have belonged to Childe Harold himself. It was more affecting than she could bear, and suddenly she knew she couldn’t go through with the plan. She’d have to tell Miles she’d failed to be engaged, and pray he’d stay his hand where her Norfolk family was concerned. There was just no other choice now she knew how exactly how much Blair still suffered from Celina’s death.

She got up. “Sir Blair, I think it best if we bring this excruciating meeting to an end, don’t you? I know you don’t wish to employ me and only consented to this interview in order to placate Miss Deveril. And now I fully realize how like your late wife I am, no matter what you say about it not being of importance, I know it will hurt you to have me so close. I suggest we avoid further awkwardness by informing Miss Deveril that although you offered me the position, I declined because the terms weren’t acceptable. That way she will not accuse you.”

She turned to leave, but he stopped her. “One moment, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“There’s nothing more to be said, Sir Blair.”

“I did approach this interview with the firm intent of turning you away, but you’re clearly a person of great sensitivity and thoughtfulness, and probably admirably suited to the task of taking my sister in hand until she becomes her new husband’s responsibility. It would therefore please me to discuss the post with you after all.”

Torn, she paused. To leave would ease her guilt, but to stay would mean being with him a little longer… To her shame, conscience and self-respect were vanquished.

Down in the valley, beneath the shady branches of the elm tree, Estelle’s carriage remained motionless. Its window had been lowered and she was observing the Deveril House gardens through a small naval telescope once owned by her late father. The black unicorn on her signet ring caught the sunlight as she adjusted the glass to concentrate upon the two figures by the fountain at Deveril House, They were framed against the dancing water, but only Blair’s face was visible. Then Laura turned her head, and Estelle’s thin hands tightened over the telescope with uncontrollable hatred.

“He told me you were dead, you little whore, and soon you’ll wish you were. He’s come here to be with you, but he’s mine, and he always will be,” she breathed.

Laura didn’t sense the malice directed at her from the valley. She was too caught up with the intensity of her feelings for Blair. It was like being a moth attracted to a flame—knowing she’d be burned, but still having to flutter ever closer.

Blair dropped the cigar and ground it beneath his heel before giving her a quick smile. “Perhaps I should outline the duties expected of you. For the next week or two you will take charge of Marianna here at Deveril House, and then accompany us to my Berkeley Square residence for the Season. The wedding preparations will also concern you, of course.”

His brief smile was the first true smile he’d given her. For a moment she was again looking into the mirror at her London apartment, watching herself making love with him. For now we see through a glass, darkly; but then face to face... She was face to face with him now, and the feeling was exquisite, more pure, clear and sweet than any before it. Oh, God, she was falling over a precipice. Like Alice on her way to Wonderland, except that Lewis Carroll hadn’t even been born yet, so her Regency self would know nothing of him or his book.

Blair deliberately avoided her eyes. “You’ll, er, be required to oversee Marianna, and attend any function to which she is invited but to which I cannot escort her. She’ll need firm direction, for her headstrong ways are bound to lead her into various faux pas. If she’s to succeed as the future Countess of Sivintree, what she needs above all is a modicum of restraint, a quality she sadly lacks.”

“She’s very young,” Laura replied, remembering her own conduct at barely twenty, although it had to be admitted that Marianna was a rather young twenty-year-old. Mature in body, but not yet as mature in mind.

He nodded. “I hope her unchecked tongue is only the fault of youth, not an enduring fault of character,” he said with feeling. He glanced at her. “Do you think you can manage her?”

“Why not? I know how to go on in society, and I believe I know how others should be expected to go on as well. Is that not what is needed?”

“Yes, I suppose it is.” He searched her eyes for a long moment, and then smiled. Again. “The finer points remain to be discussed, not least remuneration, which I promise will be generous, but the post is yours if you wish, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“Are—are you quite sure, Sir Blair?”

“Perfectly sure.”

She felt the change in him. The tension between them almost lit the air, the barrier was lowered, and the warmth in his glance allowed her in. No, it allowed the image of Celina in. She had to be honest with herself. The feelings now aroused in him really belonged to his dead wife.

But Laura knew she was beginning to pay a price for persisting with a charade she knew was wrong. Today she’d eagerly sought to return to the past—in fact, she’d gone out of her way to do so—and she’d sacrificed conscience. Now her heart was Blair Deveril’s for the taking. And so was her body. She felt no hidden shame as she acknowledged the truth about herself, for no matter how preposterous this whole situation, no matter how transitory and ultimately fruitless, she had fallen deeply in love with this man. Nothing would ever be the same for her again. Nothing.

“I accept,” she replied, her moth wings burning around her.

“That’s what I hoped you’d say. When can you commence?”

“Will tomorrow be too soon?”

“Tomorrow will be excellent. I’ll send the carriage at the same time as today. And, of course, it’s still at your disposal now. You will have your own room here, and everything will be provided. I cannot promise an open-armed welcome from the servants, for they are bound to be torn between your position and your resemblance to Celina, but I’m sure you’ll cope.”

The spaniels suddenly leapt to their feet, and made little yelping sounds as they looked up at the steps leading down from the lawns. Blair and Laura turned to see Harcourt hastening toward them. He was out of breath, and his wig was askew as he tried to summon a little composure before speaking.

“Sir Blair, there’s a problem in the tunnel. They’ve discovered another crack in the brick lining about a hundred yards in from the Great Deveril portal, and it looks in danger of falling in!”

Laura gasped. So that was what had happened.

Blair ran a hand through his hair. “Plague take it! See my horse is saddled, and be quick!”

“I’ve already taken the liberty of issuing the instruction, sir.” The butler hurried away again.

Laura looked at Blair. “Another crack? It’s happened before?”

“Yes. A mistake was made with the tunnel’s position, and instead of going through a completely limestone part of the hill, it passes directly below Deveril House, where the limestone is interspersed with fuller’s earth. This has given nothing but trouble from the outset, and prevents the canal from being profitable. Forgive me, Mrs. Reynolds, but I really must go. Please rejoin Marianna, I’m sure you and she will have much to discuss.”

But Laura suddenly felt a compulsion to return to the future. This particular close encounter had become so steeped in excitement and conflicting emotions, she just wanted to slip quietly back to her own time for a while. The past was weaving a beguiling spell over what was left of her common sense, and she needed to get away from the magic of Sir Blair Deveril in order to examine thoughts and feelings that at present were running away with her.

She gave a quick smile. “Miss Deveril and I can discuss everything later, Sir Blair. For the moment I have a number of letters to write to friends and family, as well as to my lodgings in London to arrange for my remaining belongings to be sent here, so I should return to the King’s Head.”

“As you wish.” He took her hand and drew it palm-uppermost to his lips. For a breathless moment she was sure he smoothed her skin, but then he released her to hurry away, the spaniels at his heels.

He paused briefly to tell Marianna and Stephen what had happened, and then hastened on toward the house, where a groom waited with his horse. Laura returned to the rose arbor, and Marianna greeted news of her employment with ill-disguised pleasure. Stephen was relieved to know the business of the necklace wouldn’t fall solely to him, and he said as much as he escorted Laura to the carriage.

Soon she was driving away from Deveril House again, but as the coachman began to maneuver toward the humpbacked bridge, Estelle’s oncoming carriage approached at such breakneck speed that collision seemed inevitable. Laura’s coachman started to rein in, but the other carriage didn’t check its pace. Then, at the last second, it swerved and swept past with only an inch or so to spare.

In a blur Laura saw a woman’s thin hand holding a blind aside, wearing the signet ring she’d noticed in Cirencester the day before, but then the other vehicle hurtled on along the lane, its team kicking up dust, and Laura’s coachman managed to halt his frightened team after the bridge, right by the gate. He stood up to hurl furious insults after the retreating vehicle, but then remembered his passenger. “Are you all right, madam?” he inquired, forgetting that she was only a chaperone.

“Yes, I—I think so.” She’d seen a signet ring like the strange woman’s somewhere before. But where?

“Shall I drive on?”

“I’ll just get out for a few moments, I—I feel a little shaken.”

She alighted and crossed the bridge toward the open gate, wondering—hoping—it would act in reverse, and the moment she walked through it she would be in her own time again. But fate seemed disposed to be kind, and before she even reached the gate the May warmth vanished and the much cooler air of January took its place. Deveril House ceased to be and had become the hotel, and her car was there where she’d left it. She ran to it gladly, and fumbled with the key before taking off with wheel spin worthy of Indianapolis because she was so anxious to get away from the past.

She drove haphazardly, following lane after lane until she began to feel more calm. There was no point trying to rationalize it all, for there was nothing rational about it. She, a modern New Yorker, had been going back in time to meet Sir Blair Deveril, an English Regency nobleman for whom she’d fallen hook, line and sinker. This wasn’t a game, and the choice before her was simple. Either she would have to avoid all contact with the past—although how she’d achieve that she didn’t know, because it had begun at the Berkeley Square apartment—or she would have to simply carry on, eyes wide open to the unknown consequences.

She bit her lip ruefully, and took a huge breath. There was no contest really. She wanted to actually experience the physical reality of the lovemaking she’d watched in the Berkeley Square mirror. She wanted to lie beneath him and have him look down at her with a love that matched hers. The only way to make such a dream come true was to go back there to be with him.