'Yes, Papa. I told you, Captain Duggan invited me to drive out with him today.'
'Did he? How kind of him. Did you enjoy it?'
'It was very pleasant,' she replied cautiously. 'We drove around the park at Morwood. I wish you could have seen it, Papa, the trees are looking magnificent with their leaves all amber and gold.'
'Ah, yes, of course.' For a moment he looked wistful. 'And the house, how does that go on?'
She concentrated upon removing her bonnet.
'I do not know, we did not go there.' She added brightly, 'Captain Duggan sends his regards, Papa. He could not stop, since he had no groom with him to hold the horses.'
'How thoughtful of him.' He smiled. 'Captain Duggan is Very different from his cousin, is he not?'
'Yes, Papa,' she said. 'Very different.'
He barely heard her for he had spotted his book lying on a chair. Murmuring to himself, he retrieved it and made his way back to his study. Belle smiled. He would shut himself away and lose himself in his books again, forgetting all about the real world for a little while. She wished she could do the same.
'There's someone in the park, Mr Blackstone.'
Lucas was on the top platform of the scaffolding with one of the masons when Elias Greenwood called up to him. He followed the man's outstretched finger. There was no mistaking his curricle and the greys that pulled it. Hugh was driving Annabelle around the park. The stab of jealousy was like a physical pain in his chest.
No one shall have her if I cannot!
He turned away, fighting against the words that rang in his head. He was not that unreasonable. He was not his father.
He said at last, surprised at the steadiness of his voice, 'It's Captain Duggan and Miss Havenham.'
'Ah. Well, they're not coming this way. Looks like he is driving her down to the lake, making use of the path you've opened up there.'
'Yes.' He forced himself to take another look and was in time to see the curricle disappearing into the trees.
I did it for her, he told himself. Why shouldn't she enjoy it, even if it is not with me?
Elias was looking up at him, a speculative look in his eye. Lucas scowled at him.
'Well?' he barked. 'What are you waiting for? Get back to work!'
Confound it, he should not take his bad mood out on his workers. He gave his attention to the mason again, but made a mental vow that he would catch up with Greenwood before the end of the day and make sure all was well with him.
Chapter Fifteen
Lucas delayed his return to Oakenroyd until late in the day and arrived back to learn from Rudd that his cousin had not yet come in. Knowing Hugh, Lucas was pretty sure that he would be gambling at the Red Lion, but a tiny worm of jealousy gnawed at him, suggesting that he might be dining at Croft Cottage. When Lucas retired Hugh had still not returned, so he would not discover the truth until the next morning.
Being a Sunday Lucas did not rise early to go to Morwood and instead joined his cousin at the breakfast table.
'How did you like my greys?' He asked the question casually as he took his seat.
'An excellent pair and very well matched,' returned Hugh, grinning at him. 'I'd expect nothing less of cattle from your stable, Cos!'
'You certainly kept them out long enough.'
'After I dropped Miss Havenham I met up with friends and stopped to dine with them in Stanton-at the Red Lion, so your team was perfectly safe in the stables.'
'I never doubted you would look after them.' Lucas poured himself a cup of coffee. 'And did Miss Havenham enjoy the drive?'
There was a heartbeat's hesitation before Hugh answered, 'Why, yes, of course. When are you off to London?'
The change of subject was very sudden. Lucas had no idea whether that was a good sign or bad. He replied coolly, 'At the end of the week. I have much to arrange before I go.'
'You haven't changed your mind?' Hugh looked around to check that the servants had quit the room. 'About handing over Oakenroyd?'
'No. I expect everything to be settled by the end of the month.' He flicked a glance at his cousin. 'If you intend to stay on in Stanton, then you will have to take a room at the Red Lion.'
'That would be no hardship, in fact it would be more convenient for me, but I think you are fool.'
'What you think is irrelevant.'
Hugh's face darkened. 'I am all the family you have now, so it is very relevant!'
'Hell and confound it, Hugh, it was talking to you that convinced me my father-that convinced me I had been blaming the wrong man all these years!'
'Yes, that's all very well, but it doesn't-'
Lucas brought his fist down on the table, making the cups rattle in their saucers.
'I stole his house from him, Hugh!' Guilt twisted his gut. 'I even planned to take his daughter. Returning Oakenroyd to Samuel Havenham is the least I can do.' He frowned at his cousin. 'Are you afraid there will be nothing left for you?'
'No, no, of course not, but-'
'You need not worry, there is plenty in the funds, and once I have sold the manor-'
'What? You are going to-to sell Morwood?'
Lucas raised his eyes to meet his cousin's shocked gaze. 'Yes. It was foolish to think I could come back. I am going to sell it as soon as it is finished. Then I shall be done with this place for ever.'
'But-but you can't,' blustered Hugh. 'It is your home, and mine!'
Lucas raised his brows. 'You were an occasional visitor, Cousin, nothing more.' He rose. 'Now, if you will excuse me, I have work to do.'
The short November day was drawing to a close. Belle had accompanied her father to the church that morning, but even her prayers and silent reflection in that holy place brought her no relief from the dull ache of despair.
It will pass, she told herself as she sat by the window of Croft Cottage, her reading book open in her lap. This misery cannot last.
She tried to think of the future. If Lucas was as good as his word then they would shortly be returning to Oakenroyd. Her father was quietly optimistic, and despite all that had happened Belle did not doubt that Lucas intended to make reparation for the harm he had done, but nothing could turn back the clock. Nothing could make her forget him or repair the damage he had done to her heart.
Her father was dozing by the fire. Belle tried to concentrate on her book, but the silence pressed around her. She felt the confines of the small cottage more acutely than ever before. Suddenly she wanted to get away and not to the tiny bedroom upstairs. She glanced out of the window. It was overcast, but the light should last for a little while yet. She would go out.
She dropped a kiss upon her father's brow and told him of her intention, but received no more than a sleepy response. He did not even insist that she should take Abel with her, for which she was grateful. She wanted to be alone with her thoughts. She ran upstairs to collect her cloak, then slipped out of the door. Throwing her hood over her curls, she held the folds of the cloak closely about her to keep out the chill wind as she set off in the direction of the graveyard.
The evening divine service had finished and the church stood silent and dark, unlike the Red Lion opposite, where welcoming light spilled out from the windows on to the road. As she slipped through the lychgate a sudden gust of wind whispered through the trees and sent a shower of leaves across the graveyard. They danced around her skirts as she made her way to her mother's grave.
She knelt on the soft earth and stared at the headstone. How she wished her mama-that kind, gentle woman Papa had told her of-could be with her now, to advise, to comfort her. It could not be, of course. She had to be sensible, to be strong for her father, but, oh, how she wished that just for a moment there was someone who could be strong for her.
With a sigh she brushed aside the leaves that had settled around the base of the headstone and picked up the last flowers she had laid there. The withered blooms only added to her unhappiness and she closed her eyes, praying for she knew not what.
'Belle.'
She heard Lucas call her name, soft as a whisper, and thought at first she had imagined it, conjuring his voice from her own deep yearning, but she sensed his presence even before she opened her eyes and saw him standing a few yards away. She scrambled to her feet.
'I saw you from the road,' he said by way of explanation.
Following the wave of his hand she saw Sultan tethered at the gate. Lucas was coming closer. Belle knew she should turn away, but her feet were rooted to the ground. She fixed her eyes on the brittle stems crumbling in her nervous fingers.
'These are the last of the summer flowers. When I was at Oakenroyd I picked blooms from the hothouse to lay here during the winter.'
He came up to her, stopping just an arm's reach away. 'You will soon be able to do so again, you have my word on that. And you will be able to ride over the moors as you did in the past. Apollo is in the stables, waiting for you. I have not ridden him since that day you ripped up at me. Clegg exercises him, in readiness for your return to Oakenroyd.'