The next morning the smart yellow curricle skimmed along the narrow road up the gorge, and Landry laughed as Beth clung fearfully to the seat beside him. ‘It’s the fashion to drive at risk of life and limb, Miss Mannacott.’ He flicked the whip at the pair of mahogany-bay horses. ‘We’ll go up to the moor, and approach Haldane from the other direction. The views are worth the trouble.’
The roar of rapids was lost in the noise of hoofs and wheels as he tooled the bays around a bend, scattering small stones over the dense roadside greenery. Occasionally the trees and leaves thinned enough to give a glimpse of foaming white water far below, but then the foliage closed again. The curricle’s exhilarating speed brought colour to Beth’s cheeks, and she had to hold on her black riding hat in case it vanished forever into the precipitous gorge. The cords and tassels flew behind her and the curled ostrich feather fluttered against her hand. She felt unvoiced thoughts and emotions swirling around them both, and had lain awake for half the night, trying not to think of Guy, but of every word she and Landry Haldane had said the day before. As the curricle jolted over ruts and stones, she was conscious of his body flexing to the motion, the fit of his clothes and the way his dark hair fluttered against the under-brim of his hat. The tautness of his kid gloves across his knuckles was so sensuous that she longed to be caressed by them. Not through clothes, but against her naked skin. For a heartbeat she was in Guy’s carriage again, watching him remove his gloves to hand her some capon from the hamper. Guy, oh Guy, I want you so much. But Landry was here. Now.
At last they drove up out of the valley on to the open moor, where the golden gorse was glorious against the hazy blue of the sky, and in sheltered or south-facing spots the heather was beginning to glow purple. Landry reined in to give the sweating team a rest at a crossroads, where the signpost pointed west for Barnstaple, north to Lannermouth and north-west to Haldane. The wild scenery of Exmoor stretched into the distance, sometimes plunging into other tree-choked valleys, sometimes soaring over prominent hills. Landry glanced at her. ‘Exmoor is a timeless place that invades one’s soul and occupies it until the day one dies. It already steals your heart, doesn’t it?’
‘I believe it does,’ she murmured. A string of nine pack-ponies, brown, bay and dun, moved slowly along an ancient track, each with an enormous load upon its back, plodding reliably and steadily toward an unknown destination. ‘Where are they going?’
‘Dulverford, probably. For the most part we Devon rustics are still obliged to move our goods around by the age-old method. I’ve built the new roads hereabouts, but for isolated hamlets and farms the wheel hasn’t been invented.’
The perfumed air was beguiling and the summer warmth seemed intent upon stealing Beth’s inhibitions. The way to exclude Guy from her heart was to replace him with someone else. She could never have Guy’s love, and was becoming more and more aware that Landry was strongly attracted to her. But she was afraid of the past, the present, and the future. With so much to conceal and be ashamed of, would giving in to sexual temptation be her ruin? Was Landry Haldane worth that risk? The very reason for coming to the Dower House was to be isolated, alone and safe, and yet here she was, on the brink of casting caution to the wind. There was time yet to draw back from that fatal final step. Feeling his gaze, she hoped her emotional conflict didn’t show. She had to say something. But what?
She was spared having to say anything, because a stag in full antler suddenly broke from a thicket to the south, and Landry commented drily, ‘Perfect for the hunting season in a couple of weeks’ time.’
His tone surprised her. ‘You don’t approve?’
‘It’s very hard to find anything commendable in stag hunting.’
‘But you’re a landowner, and surely all landowners indulge in such sport?’
He drew a heavy breath. ‘Most do, but I’m the exception that proves the rule. Almost everyone hereabouts supports either the North Devon or the Greylake staghounds, or both. I offer succour to neither, and indeed would rather support Beelzebub’s private pack than anything Greylake.’ He didn’t expand, but watched as the stag disappeared over the brow of a hill. ‘Actually, it’s very unusual to see deer at this time of the day. They prefer to come out at twilight and the very early morning.’ He turned to point behind them, over the thick trees of the Lanner gorge to the fracture between the Haldane Cliffs and Rendisbury Hill. ‘Do you see the position of Lannermouth and the Dower House? Look a little to the west and you’ll see Haldane.’ He moved the whip to indicate a shallow sheltered valley set high behind the summit of Haldane Cliffs. There, nestling from the full force of winter storms, was the large village that was visible from the Dower House as only chimneys.
The air was so clear that she saw everything in detail. Thatched cottages and small houses were built around a village green, where cows and tethered goats grazed. An old woman walking slowly toward her home, carrying an armful of kindling, paused to talk to a neighbour in his small vegetable garden. The church spire reached toward the sky, its gleaming new copper weathercock swinging slowly in the playful breeze, and there was a leafy churchyard, with a lych-gate overhung by ancient yews. Nearby stood a small Jacobean house, presumably the rectory where Harriet lived with her father. But the property that captured Beth’s gaze was the splendid white mansion set in a beautiful park behind the church. It was built in the fashion of the early eighteenth century, and presented a serene and gracious façade, with canted bays and a particularly handsome pediment. It was far larger and more impressive than Beth had imagined, and she turned to Landry in astonishment. ‘That is Haldane Hall?’
He was amused. ‘Yes. Why do you look so shocked?’
‘It’s so, well, large.’
‘It’ll do, I suppose,’ he said.
‘How can you be so matter-of-fact? It’s truly magnificent!’
‘I’m delighted you approve, although how much longer it will stay this way remains to be seen. By building roads, I’ve invited the outside world to enter.’
‘There must be progress, sir. It’s the way of things.’
‘Maybe. Enclosure is considered progress, is it not? Soon it will be illegal for poor folk to gather wood or graze their beasts on the village green. Walls, fences and hedges instead of this magnificent untrammelled moor, and—’ He stopped ruefully. ‘Forgive me, I didn’t mean to deliver a sermon.’
‘There’s nothing to forgive,’ she assured him. ‘But surely, you must be one of the few landowners not to want enclosure.’ Her father had commended it for the benefits to his already bulging purse.
‘I’m an oddity, eh? I don’t like hunting or enclosures.’ He smiled a little sadly. ‘Life goes on well enough in these parts, and doesn’t need that sort of change. Every acre that can be successfully farmed is farmed. I don’t keep close and hard watch on my game, and even allow those in need to take what they will, for there’s more than enough for my needs. It works, and I’m content to keep it that way.’ He gazed at the moor again. ‘Maybe I state my old-fashioned views too freely, I don’t know, but when I look around me, I know I’m right. In these times, with recession striking at everyone, men jobless and their families hungry, the old ways remain the best.’
‘Tell me, sir, why is Lord Castlereagh Prime Minister and not you?’
He laughed and flicked the team into action again, taking the Haldane road, which led in a gentle curve up toward the village. The hall was in view all the time, and then its gates and lodge appeared just before the village was reached. As Landry negotiated the sharp turn between the open gates, a little fair-haired girl leaned out of an upper window of the lodge, waving at him enthusiastically, but he didn’t notice her. Beth glanced at the mythical beasts topping the tall, oddly uneven stone gateposts. ‘What are they?’ she asked, pointing.
‘Cockatrices or basilisks, whichever you wish to call them,’ Landry explained. ‘They’re fabulous reptiles supposedly hatched by a serpent from a cock’s egg, and their breath and glance is believed to be fatal.’
In the park, a herd of red deer grazed beneath copper beech trees, and there were rhododendrons that must be a wonderful display in May and June. A ha-ha separated the park from mown lawns, and on the sheltered southern side of the house she could see hothouses and potting sheds. Beyond the house lay the stables, their gateway crowned by a huge clock tower, and it was toward this that Landry drove. The curricle clattered on cobbles beneath the clock tower, and entered a large quadrangle three sides of which were lined by white-painted stalls from which handsome horses looked out. As grooms ran from the house to take charge of the team, Landry alighted and came around to assist Beth down. ‘Welcome to Haldane Hall, Miss Mannacott.’ His hand was strong and steady, and might have become more intimate had not the head groom hurried over. ‘Ah, Johns, have Snowy saddled – I believe my mother’s side-saddle is still here – and then prepare Rollo as well, and bring them around to the front of the house.’
The head groom touched his hat and hurried away to the tack room, and Landry offered Beth his arm. They walked through a postern gate into the walled rose garden, where the air was almost soporific with perfume. A fountain played into a square lily pond, insects hummed, and a brilliant blue damselfly hovered over the lily-decked water. From there they went up some steps to a terrace, and then in through open French windows to the house itself. They proceeded to the cool green-and-white vestibule, where marble statuettes posed in golden wall niches, and a sunburst clock, copied from one at Versailles, ticked slowly into the echoing silence. A handsome gilt-framed mirror above the white marble fireplace gave the impression of more light and space, and a garniture of costly green-and-white Chinese porcelain spoke of wealth. The overall impression was very gracious and pleasing. Beth noticed a footman waiting discreetly in the shadows by the grand staircase that curved up to a balconied landing on the first floor. Landry’s servants were in constant attendance, albeit at a judicious distance. Nevertheless she was conscious of surveillance, and wondered what was being whispered in the kitchens about the new occupant of the Dower House.
The elegant double front doors stood open to the summer, and Beth could see down the drive and the park toward the village. A horseman was approaching the house, and Landry was about to instruct the footman to bring refreshments to the nearby library, when he recognized the rider. ‘Damn! What does he want?’
‘Bradfield, the agent from Greylake,’ he replied. ‘With your permission, I will speak to him. I promise it will not be for long.’
‘Of course.’
He went out as the rider reined at the foot of the portico steps. The Greylake agent was a sallow-faced man in a plain brown coat, and the crown of his top hat was too low ever to have been fashionable. Beth could hear as Landry took the cob’s bridle. ‘What is it, Bradfield?’
‘The poachers in Granleigh Wood, Mr Haldane, they’re coming on to Greylake land from your land, and making an easy escape back into your land. There’ll be ill-feeling if it goes on.’
Landry looked away for a moment, his mouth tight. ‘And what in God’s own name does the master of Greylake miss from that wood? He has more than enough land to harbour half the game in England.’ Dislike thickened his voice.
‘Nonetheless—’
‘I know, I know!’ Landry was irritable. ‘What would he have me do? Patrol my side of the boundary with hounds?’
‘My master is not in residence at the moment, sir, so I am here on my own authority. If you could just let it be known that you will not deal kindly with anyone who crosses on to Greylake land for the purpose of poaching.’ Bradfield suddenly smiled effacingly. ‘As agent I have to ask this, you understand.’
‘I understand, and will do what I can, but can’t promise the desired result.’
‘Due to Sir Daniel Lavington having been presiding, there were two poachers hanged at Taunton Assizes not long back, Mr Haldane. Maybe a timely reminder of that would instil a little caution?’
‘And maybe if Greylake’s boundaries were more effectively guarded by gamekeepers, there wouldn’t be any need for you to ride all this way.’
‘Yes, sir, but I need my master’s permission to authorize such a change.’
Landry was gripped with barely suppressed rage. ‘Bradfield, I despise your master with a venom you can only imagine. And I despise Lavington, whose mill at Porworthy has always been profitable, yet who nevertheless installs power looms and every new contrivance, throwing men, women and children out of work. Then, when the poor are forced to poach for their food, he sets mantraps; the poachers are caught and tried, and he sits in final judgment upon them. Men like him cannot see beyond the ends of their noses.’
Bradfield shifted uneasily. ‘No doubt, sir,’ he murmured, on what Beth believed to be a cynical note, as if he were taking Landry’s words with a large pinch of salt. Or, to use another saying, did the agent think it was a case of the Haldane pot calling the Lavington kettle black?
Landry cleared his throat, realizing he’d been haranguing the man. ‘I’ve said my piece, and you’ve delivered your message, so I think you may go.’
Relieved, the man touched his hat and turned his horse away, and Landry returned to the house, where Beth waited anxiously. ‘I know it’s none of my business,’ she said, ‘but it distresses me to see you so clearly upset. There must be great ill will between you and the owner of Greylake.’
‘There is.’ He drew a long breath and ran his fingers through his hair. ‘Forgive me for displaying such a lamentable lack of control. It would have been bad enough to have sounded off to another gentleman, but to have done it to a mere agent is shameful.’
‘Hardly shameful.’
He gave a penitent smile. ‘There aren’t many things on this earth guaranteed to enrage me, but anything to do with Greylake achieves it every time. I loathe everything about that man, and the feeling is mutual. Our lands adjoin, but we have as little to do with each other as possible.’
‘What happened between you?’ she asked.
‘It’s an old feud that goes back generations, but with this generation it has become unpleasantly personal.’
She put a tentative hand on his sleeve. ‘I cannot believe there is anyone with whom you do not get along.’
He relaxed and grinned. ‘My wit and charm render such a thing impossible?’
‘Yes,’ she replied truthfully.
His eyes were warm. ‘Do they work upon you, Miss Mannacott?’
‘Yes.’ But there was a hesitation he could not help but notice.
‘Indecision?’
‘I cannot tell you about them, but there are reasons I escaped to Exmoor.’
‘A cruel husband?’ he asked.
‘No, nothing like that. There is no one else.’ Just an impossible fantasy.
‘I won’t press you for more than you’re prepared to give.’ Embarrassed, he ran his hand through his hair again. ‘I swear upon my honour that I have never behaved as forwardly as this before.’
‘Nor have I, sir,’ she replied truthfully.
‘It’s ridiculous to be formal after what has just been said. My name is Landry, and I beg you let me call you Beth.’ He glanced toward the ever-present footman. ‘One has no privacy in one’s own house,’ he added, smiling.
The head groom and a boy led the horses around, and Landry again offered her his arm. His hand rested briefly over hers as they went down the steps to the gravel, where two grooms waited. He cast an appreciative eye over the Hanoverian. ‘You’ve turned him out so well, Johns, that I’m almost of a mind not to sell him. However, take him up and down a little, to show Miss Mannacott his paces.’
The groom led Snowy around, slowly at first, and then at a run that stretched the horse to a quick trot. Beth held her breath as she watched. Snowy had been brushed until his coat shone, and his mane and forelock rippled. Landry smiled at her. ‘A handsome lad, eh?’
‘Quite magnificent,’ she said, as Johns brought the horse back.
‘We can ride along behind Haldane Cliffs and into Stone Valley, of which seeing is believing. You will never have encountered its like before. Anyway, we’ll be able to give Snowy a good stretch.’
They rode down the drive toward the gates, and were almost there when a young woman and a little girl emerged from the lodge. The woman was blonde, blue-eyed and exceptionally slender, with an exquisitely delicate face and complexion. Her skin was so clear it was perfect, and her cheeks were flushed an unnatural pink. The little girl, who’d waved from the upstairs window earlier, was about nine years old, a solemn creature with the same colouring as the woman, who had to be her mother. Landry reined in and doffed his top hat, smiling. ‘Good day to you, Carrie.’
‘Good day, sir,’ said the woman, her large eyes flickering to Beth.
‘I trust all is well at the lodge?’
‘Yes, all is well.’ There was a definite Devon burr in the soft voice, and Beth could not but be aware of the warmth in her eyes as she looked at Landry.
‘Be sure to send word to me if you need anything,’ he said.
‘I will, sir.’ Carrie turned away suddenly to cough. ‘Forgive me, sir, it was one of those tickles.’
He looked down at the little girl. ‘And how are you, Katie?’
‘I’m very well, thank you.’
‘Are you looking after Mama?’
She looked at Carrie and then nodded at him. ‘She’s been very good.’
‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ He leaned down to put his hand under the girl’s chin, tickling her briefly. ‘And how is the puppy?’
She giggled and put a conspiratorial finger to her lips, then gestured for him to lean down again. ‘Pompey wees on the floor and Mama gets very cross,’ she whispered in a way that would have carried from the stage up to the gods.
He laughed. ‘Sweeting, Mama is quite right to be cross. You must tap his nose if he does it again, or you must clean up after him. If you don’t want to do that, you must make sure he doesn’t wee in the house.’
Beth looked anew at Carrie. The woman hadn’t taken her eyes from Landry. She did not bother to hide her love for him, and obviously did not care who else knew either. What of her husband? If there was a husband, of course. Beth’s heart sank as a new possibility struck her. She watched Landry and Katie. Was there a likeness? Something in the line of the jaw and tilt of the head?
Landry gathered Rollo’s reins. ‘Well, good day to you both,’ he said to mother and daughter, and tapped his top hat on again.
‘And to you, sir,’ Carrie replied.
Beth and Landry rode on through the gates, and then turned toward the village. ‘Who are they?’ Beth asked at last, unable to contain her interest.
His turquoise eyes were reluctant. ‘To answer that I need to be painfully honest with you,’ he replied, and her heart sank further, for she guessed what he was going to say. ‘Katie is my daughter, and Carrie Markham, who was a housemaid at the hall, is her mother. Which proves me to be a hypocrite after all that righteous pulpit-thundering earlier.’
Perturbed, Beth didn’t know how to respond. Until now she had not been able to imagine Landry had feet of clay, but it seemed he did. She glanced to the left, and saw they were passing the churchyard and rectory. The sunlight was glancing off the rectory windows, and she could see Harriet gathering roses in the garden, her face shaded by a gypsy hat.
‘You disapprove, don’t you?’ Landry reined in and forced her to do the same. ‘Well, so do I, but I am doing my best by them both. I seduced Carrie, I cannot deny it, and she bore my child. I have acknowledged Katie and I keep them both. They lack for nothing.’
‘Do – do you still visit her?’ The question slipped out before Beth realized it was in her mind. Heaven help her, she was jealous of Carrie Markham!
‘No.’ He regarded her for a long moment. ‘Beth? Do you think me shabby?’
‘You, sir, are a gentleman, and no matter how many children you sire, you will remain a gentleman. Carrie and her like are not only left with proof of your profligacy, but they lose their reputations as well. And Katie will have the stigma of illegitimacy.’
‘If you imagine Devon to be littered with my by-blows, you are gravely mistaken. Katie is my only child. She is well cared for, has tutors and is being taught how to be a lady. At the moment she wants to stay with her mother at the lodge, and I am not monster enough to force her to come to me instead. When she is of age I will see that she has goodly sum, so she will attract suitable offers of marriage. If I marry and have legitimate children, she will be treated on an equal footing with them. As for Carrie’s reputation, you have my word that she had lost it before I entered her bed. Having a child by me has been her salvation, because I will always care for her. Beth, I do not wish this to change things between us. I could have lied.’
‘I’d already observed the likeness between Katie and you.’
‘Then I’m relieved I chose to be truthful. Beth, I swear that I have done all in my power to be fair and kind to Carrie, and I love Katie as a father should love his child. I don’t visit Carrie now, nor have I since Katie was born. I have no other mistresses dotted around the countryside, nor do I keep one in London. I am interested in you, and only you. Please say you believe me.’ He leaned across to put a hand over hers, and she knew that it would be unfair to judge him; there were few gentlemen who had not reaped at least one crop of wild oats. It was clear he was treating Carrie and Katie well, and he’d been open about it as soon as she’d asked. What more could she expect of any man? His hand was warm through their gloves, and his thumb moved gently against her palm. ‘I have never desired a woman as I desire you, Beth,’ he said softly. ‘My heart, body and soul sparked into harmony when I saw you that first time.’
Her heart rushed with excitement as she allowed her sensuality full rein. She didn’t want to stop, and was determined to look past Guy’s image to see Landry, in the hope that Guy would become more indistinct before fading altogether. But a stirring of guilt made her glance toward Harriet, who still didn’t appear to have noticed them. ‘I’d prefer to speak in more privacy,’ she said.
He followed her glance. ‘Very well, we’ll ride on, but only if you assure me you do not harbour secret fears that Harriet Bellamy has some claim to wear my ring.’
‘I don’t fear it.’ I just know she loves you.
‘Good. Come on then.’ He urged Rollo away at a slow canter.