‘Well, here’s a to-do! If you goes on in to the little dining room, my dear I’ll put something together for you now and bring it through.’
‘Oh, no, I would rather not sit at the breakfast table.’ She wiped away a stray tear. ‘I am feeling a little sorry for myself and would rather not see Sir Edward…’
‘Lord, you won’t do that, miss. He broke his fast about an hour ago, he did, and has gone into his study. Sent Jed off to find Master Andrew, too, so you needn’t worry about seein’ anyone.’
‘All I really want is a cup of tea and perhaps a piece of bread and butter.’ Elyse stepped into the kitchen. ‘Pray do not stop your work for me. If you tell me where I may find everything I can see to it myself. Indeed, I should like that, and,’ she added, having no wish to run the risk of bumping into Drew or Sir Edward at that moment, ‘I would very much like to sit here with you, if I may.’
‘Well, it that’s what you wants, dearie, then do stay, by all means. I’d be glad o’ the company.’ Mrs Parfitt beamed at her.
Under the housekeeper’s instruction Elyse pottered about, swinging the kettle over the coals, fetching the silver teapot and bringing the tea caddy to the table for Mrs Parfitt to unlock with one of the keys dangling from the chain at her waist.
‘And will you drink a dish of tea with me, Mrs Parfitt?’
‘Thank you kindly, Miss Salforde, I’d be delighted to join you, as long as you don’t mind me carrying on with these vegetables in between? Quite like old times it will be, Miss, for when the mistress was alive we often took tea together. Not here, of course, but in her private sitting room. We had plenty of staff then and she would invite me to join her while we discussed menus and flowers for the house and all the other day-to-day little things that were required. Everything changed, of course, when the Stuart landed in Scotland. The mistress was heartbroken when Master Andrew was forced to fly the country. She left the running of the household to me after that. Too busy with her other concerns then, she was.’
‘I thought she was taken ill when, when Mr Castlemain left England?’
‘Lord, no, miss, not then. She was laid low for a few days, of course, but after that she spent her days helping Sir Edward. They lost some of the estates, you see, and had to sell others to pay the fines. Dark times, they was, but the mistress never gave in. We had to cut back, of course, but we managed, and my lady was always writing letters, always hopeful that she would be able to bring Master Andrew home. But it was not to be, and then of course she got so ill, and when she died, well, Sir Edward and Master Simon were happy for me to run the place as I saw fit. Which I did, and not so badly, even if I do say so myself.’
‘But surely you had more help then?’
‘Aye, ’twas only when Master Simon died that Sir Edward shut himself away. Turned off all the staff save Jed, Stinchcombe and me. I think he’d have sent us off, too, if he could, but as I said to him at the time, “Where is we to go, at our time o’ life?” so he let us stay.’ She broke off while Elyse went off to fetch the bread. ‘Sir Edward might grumble but we all rubs along pretty well now.’
Elyse prepared the tea and poured two cups, one of which she placed beside Mrs Parfitt before taking her own cup and a slice of bread and butter to the far end of the table, where she could sit and talk to the housekeeper without getting in her way.
Elyse sipped at her tea. The kitchen was warm and Mrs Parfitt such a motherly soul that Elyse began to relax and the leaden misery around her heart eased, just a little.
‘No doubt you’re all excited at the thought of seeing your beau again,’ said the housekeeper, watching her crumble the bread upon her plate.
‘Yes.’
Excited was not the word to describe her feelings, but she did not want to think about that.
‘He’s the son of a viscount, is he not?’ asked Mrs Parfitt, continuing to prepare the vegetables, peeling, chopping and slicing with the dexterity born of years of practice. ‘If you forgive me for asking?’
Elyse realised that the question was not posed out of rampant curiosity; the kindly woman was trying to cheer her up by giving her thoughts a happier turn. Without quite understanding how it happened, Elyse found herself telling her all about her engagement to William.
‘He must love me very much, do you not think?’ she mused, when she had finished. ‘It could not have been easy for him to persuade his father to accept me as his wife. After all, when the arrangements were made I was not at all rich, and although my birth is respectable I am sure the viscount would prefer to ally his son to another grand family.’
She thought again of the attack on their carriage. Would a respected peer of the realm go so far to prevent a marriage? The idea had been a minor concern, while she considered Drew as her friend. Now, knowing him for the rake he undoubtedly was, she felt very much more vulnerable.
‘The young man must be head over heels,’ said Mrs Parfitt in her comfortable tone. ‘But you say you haven’t seen him for years?
‘No, that is his father’s doing, I fear.’ Elyse paused. ‘He may prefer us not to marry, but if William is still willing, then I think we should do so, do not you?’
The last of the vegetables were swept into a large pan and the housekeeper began to clear the table.
‘Of course you should, if you loves each other.’ Mrs Parfitt stopped to dab at her eyes with the edge of her apron. ‘Oh, how romantic it all sounds. I vow, when you turned up here with young Master Andrew t’other day I did think that the two of you would make a lovely couple, but—’
‘Oh, goodness me, no.’
Elyse forced herself to laugh at such a ridiculous idea. Nerves and unhappiness combined to make it louder than she had intended and it echoed around the lofty kitchen.
There, you are your father’s daughter. You can laugh at adversity.
‘Mr Castlemain is merely acting as my guardian. My father arranged my marriage years ago and it is a brilliant match for me.’ She hesitated then added, trying to convince herself, ‘The marriage settlements are very advantageous, I believe.’
And it will be better to have a husband who loves me, rather than one who cannot return my affection.
Elyse stared into her cup. Drew had made it very clear that he did not love her but she would not repine. At least, not openly. No one must ever know that she had lost her heart to a rake. She would leave Hartcombe in the morning with her head held high.
With this noble resolve in mind she said brightly, ‘So you see, Mrs Parfitt, I am really looking forward to reaching Bath tomorrow and seeing dear William. I mean to make him the best, most loving wife there ever was.’
The words floated out to Drew as he stood in the shadowed passage. That she could laugh so gaily, speak so cheerfully—obviously his kisses had not meant as much to her as he had supposed. And why should they? When he had first seen her she had been flirting shamelessly. So like her father, quick to love, but equally quick to forget. His fists clenched at his sides as he fought down a wave of bitter disappointment.
He leaned back against the wall, feeling suddenly tired and dispirited. His eyes moved around the dingy passage, taking in the signs of neglect, the cracked plaster on the ceiling and worn flags beneath his feet. He should be glad she was taking it so well. After all, what could he offer her? Even though he could now resume life and was heir to Hartcombe, the house and estate were so run down it would take all his money and many years to make it viable. Nothing to compare with the life she would have as daughter-in-law to a viscount.
But he could not forget the pain he had seen in her face when she had fled from the pavilion. Perhaps he had touched her heart and she was trying to be brave. If so then what right had he to turn her world upside down again? And even if she could forgive his crass behaviour, if he could persuade her he was sincere, what might be the outcome, should she choose to throw in her lot with him? Years of hard work to put Hartcombe in order. He remembered something Harry had once said to him: ‘Nothing like drudgery to destroy love. The ladies like a romance, my boy, not real life.’
Slowly Drew made his way back to the study. His father was still there, sitting behind his desk, writing, but there was something different about him. He sat a little straighter, there was an air of purpose about him and when he looked up the sombre shadow was gone from his eyes. Drew went in and closed the door carefully behind him.
‘Have you told anyone here about the pardon, sir?’
‘Not yet, but I am writing to Jenkins now.’
‘I would rather we did not make any announcement until I return from Bath.’
Sir Edward put down his pen.
‘I would have thought you would want the world and his wife to know as soon as possible. Especially Miss Salforde, since she is already aware of your true identity.’
Drew could not meet his father’s questioning gaze. He turned his eyes to the window, watching the grey clouds scud across the sky.
‘It can make no difference to her. Tomorrow she comes of age. She will no longer be my concern.’
‘And you are happy for her to marry Reverson?’
‘If that is her choice.’
‘Do you think it would still be her choice if she knew you were a free man? Oh, do not frown at me, my boy. I have seen the way she looks at you. She is more than half in love with you already.’