Temia did not enjoy the revelations about her father that had been a family secret for so many years. She asked Georgiana to go over the story time and time again and then she searched for new clues.
“Are you certain you don’t know any more?” she whispered, as they walked around the garden. “I have told you everything that I know,” replied Georgiana, now feeling sorry she had mentioned the topic. “All I can say is that it was before your parents married.”
Temia felt frustrated.
She could hardly ask Mama what had happened in case it upset her and cross-questioning Papa was out of the question.
“There must be an odd servant who was at The Hall when it occurred, perhaps Robert our groom, who has been at Bovendon Hall since he was a stable boy.
But how to broach the subject with a hired hand?
She knew it was beneath her dignity to scrabble around for titbits amongst the servants and if her Mama found out, she would be furious.
She was still pondering her conundrum when the butler informed her that the carriage was ready to leave.
*
“Temia! My darling! How wonderful you look!”
Temia ran at once to the library where she knew her father would be, the moment she set foot in the house. “Papa! I have missed you so much!” she cried, as he kissed her cheek and embraced her. “You have grown so beautiful, my darling. I can hardly believe I have produced such a charming creature.”
Temia laughed and stroked the lapel of his jacket.
“Papa, you do yourself an injustice, you are most distinguished and wise and those virtues far outweigh mere skin-deep features.”
“Well, your Mama thought so! And when I had hair, I could pass muster in a good suit and a silk hat.”
“Papa, did you have many sweethearts before you met Mama?”
Temia could not believe she had had the nerve to say such a thing. She felt her father pull away from her.
“You have been in France too long, my dear,” he said, with a shocked look. “I can see that.”
“Oh, I am sorry, Papa. I did not mean to offend!”
“I am not offended, Temia, merely shocked at your forwardness. You must remember that you are in England now and you must not ask such very personal questions of people. What passes for idle conversation in France is not the done thing in England.”
Temia blushed. It was true – she had become very bold in the two years she had been in Paris. There was something about the open and frank nature of the French that had struck a chord within her and she soon dropped her English reserve.
In fact, she had always been pleased if someone had mistaken her for a French girl rather than English.
She spoke French with an impeccable accent and had learnt a little Italian as well and some people refused to believe that she was anything other than Continental. “Now, Temia, would you excuse me? I have some paperwork to finish before dinner. And I am sure a certain four-legged friend of yours would welcome a visit!”
“Lightning! Oh, how could I forget him? Papa, I must run to the stables at once!”
She quickly turned and headed for the stables.
‘All seems unchanged since I was last here,’ she thought with a degree of satisfaction, as she ran towards the squat building that lay some distance from the house.
The first person she saw was Robert, the old groom. His hands were as gnarled as his face and the black cap on his head covered a bald pate. He was busy hacking at the upturned hoof of a pony she had not seen before.
“Robert!” she called across the courtyard.
“Miss Temia! You’ve come back to us at last!”
“Yes, I have and this time I will be staying.”
“It does me good to ’ear that, miss. Lightning has sure missed you!”
“Where is he, Robert? I would love to see him.”
“He’s over there in yon field, you just call ’im and ’e’ll come!”
Temia could not contain her excitement as she ran to the edge of the field. The proud chestnut stallion was peacefully cropping the grass but, as soon as she called, he lifted his big head and snorted.
Within moments, he had galloped over to where she stood. Delightedly, he nuzzled her hand.
“Sorry, boy. No sugar. Let me look at you!”
Lightning shook his head as if in disappointment.
“Oh, come,” crooned Temia, “tomorrow we shall go for a nice long ride and you can have all the treats you could wish for. I don’t want Robert accusing me of trying to make you fat and lazy, do I?”
She stroked his silky mane lovingly. None of the horses she had ridden in Paris had been so handsome and on the rare opportunity she did have to ride, she had not enjoyed it as much as if she had been on the back of Lightning.
He had been hers since he was a foal and she had chosen him herself. He had a white flash on his nose and his father had been a champion racehorse.
As she made a fuss of him, she noticed that Robert had joined her by the fence. “We’ve a new stallion in the stables, miss. Your father’ll want to show ’im off to you tomorrow.”
“Where is he?”
“In ’is stall. Would you like to see ’im?”
Temia paused. It occurred to her that perhaps her Papa would want to show him to her first and she did not wish to spoil it for him.
“No, I will wait until tomorrow, Robert. I must get back to the house and supervise my things. I expect that Sarah is spinning like a top!”
Robert laughed and touched his cap.
“I’ll be seeing you tomorrow, miss.”
“Yes, indeed,” she answered happily. Nothing could please her more than the prospect of a cross-country gallop.
*
Temia was in for a surprise when she finally went upstairs to her bedroom. The dusty-looking wallpaper had been replaced by a far more sophisticated wallcovering and new pink silk curtains hung from the window and there was also a huge walnut wardrobe with a number of drawers.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” she gasped as she walked in.
“Welcome home, Miss Temia!” exclaimed Sarah, bobbing a curtsy. “We’ve all missed you.”
“Did Mama redecorate the room?” “Yes, miss. She spent months with the decorator, choosing all the colours and then she ordered the wardrobe from London. What do you think of it, now?”
“I think it’s lovely. I am so glad that Mama bought me a new wardrobe – I was worried I would not be able to squeeze all my new gowns into that old one!”
“Are they from Paris, miss?” “Yes, they are and I want you to press the burgundy silk one for tonight. I wish to make myself as attractive as possible for Papa.”
The maid curtsied and left the room. Temia peeped into her bathroom and noticed that it all seemed clean and neat with flowers in a little vase.
It made her feel welcome and glad to be home.
She looked at the small rack of books she had left there before going to France.
‘These seem so childish now,’ she thought, picking up Charles Lamb’s Tales from Shakespeare. ‘After reading Voltaire, I feel the need to improve my mind further.’
Temia suddenly felt terribly tired from her journey and so she lay down on the bed and closed her eyes. It felt as if she had only been asleep for ten minutes when Sarah was by her side calling her,
“Wake up, miss! I need to dress you for dinner!”
“What time is it, Sarah?”
“It is just gone seven o’clock. You’ve been asleep for over an hour!”
Sarah helped her into the burgundy silk dress and then set about dressing her hair and Temia had to show her how she liked it to be done in the new French style. Fortunately Sarah was a swift learner and Temia was soon viewing herself appreciatively in the pier glass.
“Well done, Sarah,” she praised her. “You look lovely, miss,” sighed Sarah, as she stood back to admire her handiwork. Temia smiled. Her blue eyes sparkled and her fair hair seemed full of golden highlights in the glow of the candles. The sun was just setting and already the room was full of shadows.
Then came the very familiar sound of the gong and Temia laughed to herself.
‘It’s been a long time since I heard that sound,’ she murmured, rising to leave the room.
Downstairs Temia could hear that her parents were already in the dining room. “Good evening, miss!” Ridley, the butler, intoned.
“Darling. You look incredibly lovely!” exclaimed her Mama. “Doesn’t she, Arthur?”
“What do you think, Papa?” she asked him shyly, displaying the skirt of her gown.
“Did I pay for that?” he asked with a wry smile.
“Yes, Papa.”
“And should I ask how much it cost me?”
“No, Papa!”
Sir Arthur smiled to himself indulgently. As if he could refuse his only daughter anything!
“I hope you will not be bored in the country?” “Heavens no, Papa,” she answered, sitting down. “I missed Bovendon more than you will know!”
“You have been to the stables naturally?”
“Yes, to see Lightning! Robert tells me you have a fine new stallion?”
Her father chuckled.
“Yes indeed, I am very proud of Brutus!”
“Why did you call him Brutus? I hope he doesn’t betray you in the way that Roman Senator did Caesar!”
“Because he is such a huge brute of an animal, the name seemed appropriate.”
“Will you take him hunting?”
“Perhaps after I have ridden him a few times, but it’s too soon. It’s a pity as there’s a meet this weekend.” Temia’s Mama began to laugh.
“I can tell that, if I am not careful, I am not going to be able to change the topic of conversation too easily,” she remarked with a sigh.
“It’s a pity you don’t care for the Hunt, Mama,” said Temia, taking a sip of wine. “I would so enjoy us going out as a family.”
“And then who would stay behind to supervise the meals? No, I prefer to stay at home organising suitable nourishment for the tired Huntsmen!”
“And women,” corrected Temia.
“As you have not had a chance to ride Lightning for ages, perhaps you would care to join me tomorrow when I take Brutus out for a canter?” suggested her father. “Oh, yes! I would love that,” agreed Temia. “I so long to ride Lightning again.”
“Then, it’s settled. I shall ask Robert to make them ready for half-past ten and then we shall ride to the river and back. We will return for luncheon and you can tell me what you think of my latest purchase.”
Temia was so excited that she could barely contain herself. The next day could not come soon enough for her.
“And the ball, Mama. Is it to be at the weekend?”
“Yes, dearest. Tomorrow I will show you the menu and we can then discuss the band. Signor Duttini will not disappoint you. He comes from Italy. The Italians have a certain flair, I always think.”
“Mama, I do believe that you are just the tiniest bit in love with Signor Duttini!” teased Temia. “Papa, you shall have to be on your guard on the evening of the ball!”
“I just have eyes for the one man, Temia. Twenty-seven years we have been married and not a day goes by when I do not thank the Good Lord for allowing me to be such a fortunate woman.”
“You were younger than me when you met Papa, were you not?”
“Yes, I was barely twenty.”
“I am in no hurry to marry,” admitted Temia. “I want to marry for love when the time comes and it must be a perfect love, like yours and Papa’s.”
Temia could have sworn that at very that moment, something like a shadow crossed her mother’s face, but it was so fleeting that no sooner than she thought she had glimpsed it, it disappeared.
*
Temia stayed up for as long as she could, but soon her eyes grew heavy and she could think of nothing but climbing into her bed.
Kissing her parents goodnight, she went upstairs and, after Sarah had undressed her, she jumped into bed.
But downstairs in the drawing room, the scene was very different – “You did not tell her about Lord Alphonse, then,” muttered Lady Brandon, sipping her brandy sparingly.
“It did not seem the right time, Alice,” answered Sir Arthur, staring into the fire as the embers died down.
“We must broach the subject sooner or later.”
“What – that her father is being made a fool of by a man who has no compunction in taking the moral high ground when there is none to be taken?”
“He cannot continue taking horses and not paying for them. There is the expense and he insists on having the best. Heaven only knows how long you will be able to keep Brutus once he sets eyes on him.”
“He cannot have Brutus!” grated Sir Arthur. “But he has already made comments that he would like Lightning.”
“If the time does come, we shall have to consider it carefully,” he sighed, “we cannot afford to rock the boat with him too much, Alice. He is such a loose cannon and I cannot be certain he will not reveal – a certain matter.”
At the mention of that, Lady Brandon began to cry. “Why are we being made to pay for something that is ancient history?” she sobbed, dabbing at her eyes.
Sir Arthur went over to her and put his arm around his wife in an attempt to comfort her.
“Is it not enough that we lost our only son?”
“Men such as he have no morals, dearest,” said Sir Arthur, his face setting into a steely mask. But even as he comforted her, he knew that Lord Alphonse was not about to disappear in a puff of smoke, no matter how dearly he wished it.
*
Next morning, Temia could not wait for breakfast to finish so that she could run out to the stables.
Lightning was waiting for her and she gave him a sugar lump as Robert saddled up Brutus for her father.
Sir Arthur came striding out, looking very dapper in his riding habit. “I promised you he was a fine beast, Temia,” he boasted, as he mounted Brutus proudly.
“He is indeed, Papa. He looks as if he is rather spirited. Perhaps, too much so for me!”
“I would not let anyone else ride him, Temia,” said Sir Arthur, grimly contemplating the dreadful prospect of Lord Alphonse attempting to lay claim to him. “He is feisty, that much is for certain. This is only the third time that I have taken him out for a long ride, so we shall see if he behaves himself.”
They were soon striking out across the countryside. Autumn was already showing itself in the hints of red that touched the trees and bushes and Temia thought that it would not be long before there were no leaves and their branches would be bare.
They chatted easily in between gallops and, as they reached the river and stopped for a rest, Temia suddenly seized on the idea of mentioning Les Jolies Mademoiselles to her father.
“Papa, this ball we are holding – would it not be wonderful if we had some really fanciful entertainment?”
“You mean, apart from Signor Duttini’s orchestra? What would you like, dearest? If it is within my power to grant it, you know I will.”
Temia took a deep breath and looked away, so as to appear as casual as possible.
“Well, I noticed when we were in Kensington that there was a dance troupe playing that Mama said were the toast of London – ”
Her father stared at her with an expression that told Temia that he was a little perturbed.
“A dance troupe? Do you mean showgirls?”
Temia took a deep breath. ‘If he becomes angry, then I will know that there is something behind this story!’ she said to herself.
“Yes, in France they are not frowned upon as they are here and it might add a Continental flavour to the – ”
“Out of the question!” interrupted her father with a face like thunder. “I can see that being in France for so long has warped your sense of what is socially acceptable.”
And with that, he turned Brutus away from the river and galloped off in the direction of The Hall.
‘Well!’ said Temia to herself, a little startled. ‘I did not expect such a strong reaction to my suggestion. I can only conclude there is indeed something in Georgiana’s theory about a family secret lurking beneath all this!’
As she spurred Lightning into action, she could not help but be even more intrigued. ‘I will get to the bottom of this,’ she determined, as she crossed the fallow fields. ‘There is obviously more to my Papa than meets the eye!’
*
The day of the ball arrived and Bovendon Hall was a hive of activity. Almost before dawn, the servants were making ready and extra servants had been engaged from a London agency to swell their ranks.
Lady Brandon rose early as the first grey streaks of dawn were breaking the sky, as her maid helped her dress.
“Hurry, Martha. The champagne will be here soon. The Master has had it shipped in especially from France.”
“Cook is upset that you have employed a French chef to create some dishes for the buffet, my Lady.”
“Cook should be glad of the help, Martha.” Mrs. Duff had been employed at Bovendon Hall for many years and was not getting any younger and although she was able to manage day-to-day menus, Lady Brandon had doubted her ability to cater for so many guests.
“Oh, I expect she does really, my Lady,” answered Martha. “She must be nearly sixty if she’s a day.”
“Even so, we don’t want to deliberately upset her, Martha. I shall have words with her later to reassure her that her position is safe until she wants to retire.”
Lady Brandon did not wish for any trouble with the servants on today of all days – had she not already enough to deal with? Temia offered to help as she came in for breakfast, but was told to relax and not worry. But before she knew it, it was time to change. Sarah laced her into her new ball gown from Paris and between them they devised an ornate hairstyle that Temia hoped would be a sensation.
“I don’t believe you could look any more beautiful if you tried!” gasped Sarah, as Temia stood in front of the mirror in her mauve-silk gown with a frilled underskirt. The bodice was daringly low with gathered short sleeves and she wore a pair of mauve-silk slippers to match.
“You will have every gentleman in the ballroom wanting to dance with you, miss,” sighed Sarah, as she did up the diamond necklace around Temia’s slender throat.
She could not wait to go down and greet her guests. And, as she did so, her mother was waiting for her with a rather cross look on her face.
“Rather bad news, I am afraid, darling. The Earl of Wentworth has sent his apologies, as he has been detained in London and cannot come. He is one of the County’s most eligible bachelors – if a little wild.”
“How so, Mama?”
“He is much given to the pursuit of pleasure and it is a sinful waste of talent. The man paints exquisitely and speaks several languages. I am certain that given the right woman, he would be a reformed character – there is no bad blood there, just a fiery temper, if gossip is to be believed.”
“That is a pity, as I should have liked to have met him,” replied Temia, taking the glass of champagne that the footman offered her. “He sounds intriguing.”
Lady Brandon’s eyes filled with tears of joy as she regarded her daughter. In her heart she fervently hoped that tonight Temia would find romance. She was concerned that Temia was almost twenty-two and showed no signs of being interested in marriage.
“You are so beautiful, Temia,” she murmured. The guests were now starting to arrive in increasing throngs and the carriages queued the length of the drive to discharge their glittering loads.
Lady Brandon was soon so engaged in greeting her guests that she temporarily forgot all her concerns.
In the ballroom Temia was quickly surrounded by young gentlemen, all eager to make her acquaintance.
“You have deprived the County of your beauty for too long,” said one.
“You are a vision!” exclaimed another, leading her onto the dance floor.
“Say you will marry me or I will surely die of a broken heart!” professed another.
Having lived for so long in France, Temia simply laughed away these idle compliments and continued to change partners with each successive dance.
Halfway through the evening, she declared herself exhausted as she extricated herself from the arms of one, George Armstrong. “You are breaking my heart, my angel!” he cried, clutching his chest in a theatrical gesture.
“I will return later,” she smiled at him coquettishly, “now do dance with some other young lady.”
Temia withdrew to the anteroom where there were comfortable sofas. She smiled at the group of dowagers in the corner, who were fully occupied with the gossip of the evening – they were all chattering and whispering behind their fans as Temia sank down onto a chair.
As she relaxed, she was suddenly aware of a man by the door, whose eyes were burning into her.
For some reason she felt a distinct sense of unease.
She glanced over at him for the merest of seconds and he took that as his cue.
‘Oh, no!’ she said to herself, as she watched him march towards her.
“Hello, you are Miss Brandon, are you not?”
“I am, but you have me at a loss, sir. I am afraid we have not met before, have we?”
“Lord Alphonse at your service. No, we have not met, but I am a business acquaintance of your father.”
“So, you are in the equine business?”
“In a manner of speaking, yes,” he replied, a little obliquely. “He did not tell me he had such an enchantingly beautiful daughter – but you are not dancing?”
“I am a little tired. I have not left the dance floor since the music began.”
“But you will dance with me, of course,” he said, with the kind of overweening confidence that Temia found quite distasteful.
She looked up at Lord Alphonse and took in his tall figure and long face – and large nose that seemed to droop downwards. His hair was black but thinning and Temia judged him to be at least forty. All in all, there was something about him that made her feel uncomfortable. “I would like to rest awhile,” she answered quietly.
“Nonsense! A lovely young lady like you? Come, the orchestra is playing a waltz. Grant me this one dance.”
Temia thought that her father might be annoyed if she upset him, so she rose and took his proffered arm.
During the waltz, Lord Alphonse pressed himself just a little bit too close to her and Temia found the whole experience rather distasteful. She could feel his growing attraction to her and, when she tried to pull herself away from his firm embrace, he moved even closer to her.
As the music stopped, he remained holding her. “You dance divinely, Temia, and indeed you are very beautiful. Might I call on you tomorrow?”
“I am afraid I shall be occupied, Lord Alphonse. I have only just returned from France and am rather busy.”
“I shall be visiting your father tomorrow morning, so, if you are here at home, I will see you,” he persisted, releasing her. “Now, please excuse me – my carriage is waiting.”
Temia felt her skin crawling as he kissed her hand.
Almost as soon as Lord Alphonse had left her side, her mother hurried over to her.
“What did he say? What did he talk about?” she asked in an anxious tone that made Temia suspect that this Lord Alphonse was a far more important person than she had at first suspected.
“He was most insistent that I allow him to call on me tomorrow. Of course, I shall say I am not at home.”
“That is not wise, Temia, dear. He is a very good client of your father.”
“But Mama, I don’t care for him at all. He held me disagreeably close during the waltz and it – upset me.”
“Darling, I feel certain that, if you can handle the attentions of Parisian men, then you are more than able to deal with him in the correct manner. You must not be too off-putting to him, darling, your father would not be happy if he took umbrage with us.”
Temia felt a lump spring into her throat. She had not expected her Mama to say this. Why was she not agreeing with her? No gentleman would hold a lady he had just met so close!
‘I can see that they wish to impress him and that I must go along with it,’ she mused, as George Armstrong happened on her in the corridor.
But even as she danced with him, she could not wipe the vision of Lord Alphonse’s leering face from her mind for the rest of the evening –
*
The servants were still clearing up after the ball when Temia went downstairs to find something to eat the following morning. It was almost midday, but she could not wait until luncheon.
Slipping down the backstairs and into the kitchen, she begged some bread and honey from Mrs. Duff who had just taken a batch of steaming loaves out of the oven.
She sat at the kitchen table and ate, famished.
‘At least if I am down here, Ridley will not find me,’ she said to herself.
But five minutes later he came down the stairs.
“Miss Temia! Now what are you doing here?”
“I wanted something to eat.”
“A gentleman who is in with your father has been asking after you.”
Temia sighed.
“Would that be a Lord Alphonse?” she asked.
“It is, miss”
“Ridley, I wish you to tell him, if he asks for me again, that I am not at home. Do you understand?”
“Very good, miss. And if the Master requests your presence?”
“You have not seen me.”
The butler paused and then nodded, slowly. Taking up a salver he made his way back up the stairs.
After finishing her snack, she crept out of the back door and out into the grounds.
The Head Gardener was clearing leaves from the path and his assistant was busy pruning some bushes.
Without thinking, Temia soon found herself by the stables.
‘I should not linger here,’ she thought, ‘for this is surely the one place Lord Alphonse will visit if he is here.’
As she turned back towards the house, she heard someone shout her name. With a sinking heart, she ignored Lord Alphonse at first, but then, when his shouts became louder and more insistent, it would be rude not to acknowledge him.
Forcing a smile, she turned towards him. He was hurrying across the courtyard towards her with his head bent.
“Miss Brandon! I was told you were not at home.”
“Ridley could not find me, as I was in the kitchen. He must have assumed I was out.”
“I am so glad I have seen you as there is an urgent matter I wish to discuss with you.”
“I was just about to go out, Lord Alphonse.”
“It will not take long. Can we go inside?”
“I must speak with Robert.
“Later. Come, let’s return to the house. You must be cold without a coat or shawl.”
He touched Temia’s shoulder in a gesture that made her shudder. She did not like being treated so familiarly.
Once inside the house, she led him to the drawing room, hoping that her father would be there, but he was nowhere to be seen.
“Miss Brandon,” he began. “You have to believe that I have thought of nothing but you since our meeting last night and I have to confess that I have fallen utterly in love with you. I am not a man to tarry when I have set my mind on something, and so, I ask you to marry me. I know that your father will agree to it.”
“You have spoken of this to Papa?” asked Temia a little nervously. “No, not yet, but I am most confident that he will not raise any objections to our betrothal.”
Temia paused. She did not wish to cause offence, but equally she was taken aback by the shocking arrogance of the man.
“I am afraid that I do not wish to marry anyone at present, Lord Alphonse,” she replied stoutly. “Naturally I am flattered to be asked, but I am not able to accept. Now, if you will excuse me, as I have said, I am about to go out.”
Lord Alphonse’s face grew red with anger. His lip trembled and he exhaled noisily as he knitted his eyebrows.
“You – refuse – me?” he spluttered.
“I do,” answered Temia quietly.
“What objection can you possibly have to refuse a gentleman of my standing?”
“Sir, I hardly know you. That is reason enough, is it not?”
“No, it is not!” he shouted. “I am used to getting what I want and I will have you, Miss Brandon! I will leave you for now to contemplate the error of your decision and will return tomorrow once you have had a chance to think about it. Good day. I will show myself out.”
With that he stormed angrily out of the room. She heard the front door slam shut and the sound of his footsteps dying away over the gravel. ‘I fear I have made an enemy,’ she said to herself, sitting down on the sofa. ‘Papa will be furious, but surely, he will understand why I have refused?’
But in her heart, grew a nagging fear that perhaps, just as Lord Alphonse was not a man to be put off, her father was not going to be as understanding as she would hope.