Scandal at Greystone Manor Read online

  ‘All me life. Come here as a nipper, I did.’

  ‘Then you will know what the house was like in the old days.’

  ‘That I do. Grand it were. It were well kept, too, with any number of servants. Sir Jasper and her ladyship useta give dinner parties in this room. There were always sumf’n going on. The hoi polloi from Lunnon useta come down to stay.’ They followed him to the drawing room, a large room with lofty ceilings and carved cornices and windows on two sides, one of which looked out on to the terrace, the other on to a tangle of long grass, weeds and overgrown rose bushes, which had once been a garden. ‘It all stopped when her ladyship took ill,’ he went on while Mark inspected everything, stamping on the floorboards and poking his finger into the window frames. ‘She were ill a long time and when she died, Sir Jasper let everything go. He would not have anyone here. Cut himself off, he did, and started acting strange.’ They moved to another smaller room, which smelled fusty and airless and made Jane wrinkle her nose. It had obviously once been a parlour, but there was a narrow bed set against the wall by the window. An outer door led on to the weed-infested side garden. ‘Shut himself in this here room, he did, and never moved out of it day or night. We’ll go upstairs now, but watch out, some of the treads are missing and the banister i’n’t safe.’

  Up the stairs they went. The old man obviously found the climb an effort because he was breathless at the end of it. He recovered quickly and was soon talking again. ‘The servants left one by one. There weren’t much point in a-keepin’ ’em on. There were only me and Dotty left when he died. The lawyer what come down from Lunnon asked us to stay and keep an eye on the place while he found Sir Jasper’s heirs. Seems he didn’t have no close family. Place hev got even worse since then. I can’t do the work nor can Dotty.’ All the time he was speaking he was going from room to room, throwing open doors. The bedrooms were in semi-darkness because of the ivy, which was already encroaching into the rooms through broken windows. At the end of the wide corridor there were more stairs. ‘There’s another floor,’ he said, reluctant to climb.

  ‘We can manage on our own,’ Mark said. ‘You go down again, we will find you when we are ready to leave.’

  He left them and they climbed more stairs to the next floor where the servants would have been housed.

  ‘It is in a parlous state,’ Jane said. ‘I begin to wonder if it is worth our while to take it on.’

  ‘I think it is solid enough, the brickwork is sound and the damage fairly superficial. A small army of workers would soon have it to rights.’

  She laughed. ‘Where am I to find an army of workers?’

  ‘Almost anywhere given the unemployment situation. I can set them on and oversee the work, if you wish. If we decided to go ahead at once, we could have everything done by the winter.’

  ‘But, Mark, you already have so much to do. I feel I am taking advantage of you and burdening you with more problems.’

  ‘Nonsense. You have never taken advantage of me, Jane, and if it is a burden, which I dispute, I bear it willingly.’

  ‘I wonder at you being so kind and helpful given the dreadful way you have been treated.’

  ‘Treated, Jane? You mean by Isabel?’

  ‘Yes. I am so sorry. I wish she had never gone to London with us. It all went to her head.’

  ‘I think it is better that she told me now and not after we were married, don’t you?’

  ‘But Papa is determined she will go through with the wedding.’

  ‘I hope he will not insist. Isabel can break it off without too much damage being done. I certainly cannot.’

  She looked at him in surprise. ‘Would you wish to?’

  ‘I do not want an unwilling wife, Jane.’

  ‘Oh.’ Did he really mean he wanted an end to the engagement? It was strange if he did, because both families had been talking about it ever since Isabel left the schoolroom. She remembered it especially because she had been suffering herself at the time and it had made her even more miserable. She had been foolish, she knew that now.

  He smiled to reassure her. ‘I will speak to Sir Edward.’

  ‘Papa won’t let her marry Mr Ashton, I know.’

  ‘But Drew is not the man he was ten years ago, Jane.’

  ‘Oh! So you know?’

  ‘Yes. Do you...? Are you—?’ He stopped suddenly.

  ‘Am I still in love with him? No, Mark, I never was, not truly. Oh, I pined for a while, but then I came to my senses and was thankful for my escape. He is rich and self-assured and has turned Issie’s head. She will doubtless get over it, as I did.’

  ‘Perhaps, perhaps not. Now let us go downstairs again and inspect the outbuildings. And then we shall have a little picnic before we make our way home.’ He started to lead the way down the upper flight, talking over his shoulder. ‘I asked my housekeeper to make up a little basket of food and a bottle of wine.’

  She knew the subject of Isabel and the wedding was closed and he would not refer to it again, but it left her longing to know how he really felt. Was he just being chivalrous or did he mean he no longer wished to marry Isabel? What would happen if, in a couple of months’ time, Isabel succumbed to their father’s blandishments and agreed to marry Mark after all? She had begun to hope, just a little, but realised how futile that was. Even if he did not marry Isabel, it was no reason to think he would turn to her. There were any number of younger, more beautiful ladies for him to choose from.

  She followed him down. His dark hair curled into the nape of his neck in a most enticing way; she felt an inexplicable urge to reach out and pull her fingers through it, to straighten it and watch it spring back when she let it go. Engrossed in that, she did not look where she was going and her foot caught in a broken stair tread. She flung her arms out to save herself, pushing him in the small of the back. He just managed to save himself from falling and in so doing cushioned her fall so she did not go all the way down. He eased her down on to the next step and sat beside her, his arm about her shoulders. ‘Jane, are you all right? Have you hurt yourself?’

  ‘My ankle. I think I’ve twisted it. It was that rotten step.’

  He looked down at her foot. The ankle was already swelling. ‘Do you think you can get down the rest of the stairs if I support you?’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  She did try, but winced and uttered a muffled cry when she put her weight on to her foot. ‘I’ll carry you,’ he said. ‘Put your arms about my neck.’

  ‘You will stumble with me. I can do it.’

  ‘No, you cannot.’ He scooped her into his arms and carried her down to the ground floor and back down the hall to the kitchen. She could feel the hair which had so entranced her, as she clasped her arms about his neck. It was soft and not wiry at all.

  Mrs Godfrey had just put the hare into a pot on the stove and was scrubbing the table. She looked up when they entered. ‘Mercy me, what happened?’

  Mark lowered Jane carefully into a chair. ‘Miss Cavenhurst caught her foot in a rotten stair and twisted her ankle. It will need bathing in cold water and binding up.’

  ‘Them stairs will be the death of someone afore long,’ the woman said, as she went to a pail and poured water into a bowl which she placed at Jane’s feet. ‘Here, take your stocking off, miss, and put your foot in that. It’ll cool it, while I fetch some binding.’

  ‘I’ll wait outside, Jane,’ Mark said. ‘Mrs Godfrey will call me when it’s done and I’ll carry you out to the curricle.’

  * * *

  ‘I feel such a fool,’ Jane said when this was accomplished and she was sitting in the curricle ready to be taken home, one ankle heavily bandaged, its shoe on the floor by her feet. ‘We were warned the stairs were unsafe, I should have paid more attention to where I was putting my feet. Thank goodness you were there to cushion my fall. Did I hurt you
?’

  ‘No, I only wish I had taken more care of you.’

  ‘It wasn’t your fault. And we didn’t look at the outbuildings after all.’

  ‘I did while Mrs Godfrey was binding you up.’ He flicked the reins to start the horse off on the homeward journey. ‘There are some stables, a coach house and a shed. Mr Godfrey was in the garden where he had planted a few rows of cabbages and beans and he showed me round. There is a small dower house on the far side of the garden which is included in the sale.’

  ‘Do you think the house is in too bad a state for our purpose?’ Her ankle was hurting abominably, but she tried to ignore it.

  ‘Not if the price is right.’

  ‘I have a picture of it, repaired, redecorated and furnished, its windows gleaming and the garden neat and tidy. And children’s laughter echoing everywhere. I want the children to be happy.’

  ‘Of course you do, so do I.’

  ‘The first-floor rooms are spacious enough to make dormitories, the upper rooms the servants’ quarters and perhaps a small infirmary if any of the children should be unwell. Downstairs could be the refectory and the school rooms.’

  ‘You were thinking all that as we went round, were you not? It’s as if it is already yours.’

  ‘Not mine, Mark, the trust’s.’

  ‘As you say. Would you like me to negotiate with Mr Halliday for you? I am afraid you are going to have to rest that foot for a little while.’

  ‘Yes, curse it,’ she said. ‘But please do what you can.’ She paused. ‘We didn’t have our picnic, did we?’

  ‘No, but it is not too late. Are you hungry?’

  ‘A little.’

  He turned the curricle off the road into the shelter of some trees where he brought it to a stop. ‘Sit there,’ he said, jumping down and removing a wicker basket from under the seat. She watched him place it under a tree. He took off his coat and laid it on the grass, then came back for her.

  ‘I can hop down,’ she said, placing her good foot on the step and trying to stand.

  ‘I think not.’ He scooped her up as if she weighed no more than a feather and carried her to the tree where he gently lowered her on to his coat and sat beside her, so close she could feel his trouser-clad thigh through her thin dress. It was highly improper, but there was no one to see them and Mark himself seemed unaware of the impropriety. She knew she ought to move away, but she stayed where she was, letting her imagination play with a picture of them as a married couple and it was quite in order for him to put his arms about her, carry her, sit so close they touched.

  ‘Comfortable?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  He pulled the basket closer and began unpacking it, bringing out ham and chicken legs, bread and pastries, two plates, a bottle of wine and two glasses. ‘This is a feast,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Blandish lives in fear that I shall starve, so help yourself or I shall be in trouble if I take anything back.’ He was pouring wine as he spoke and handed her a glass.

  ‘It’s champagne,’ she said as the bubbles tickled her nose.

  ‘Yes, perfect for a summer’s picnic, don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s lovely.’

  ‘You deserve the best.’

  She looked sharply at him and realised he was looking intently at her, as if studying her face, waiting for a reaction. For a second or two she wondered if he was going to try to seduce her and what she would do, but then dismissed the idea as preposterous. She was perfectly safe with him. And somewhere in the depths of her, where she kept her most secret thoughts, she wished she were not. She tried a light laugh, but it sounded cracked. ‘That’s the sort of thing you should be saying to Isabel to make her change her mind.’

  ‘But I might not want her to change her mind.’

  ‘You are hurt and who can blame you? She has been very unkind to you.’

  ‘Not unkind, honest, and that I can admire, but if she does not love me, then there is no way I would try to persuade her to marry me if she does not want to. I do not have to beg for a lady’s favour, Jane. I have more pride than that. Now drink and eat and let us not talk of Isabel again, I am becoming tired of hearing her name.’

  She obeyed and they ate in silence for a few minutes, but the silence was making her conscious of other things: the warmth of the sun filtering through the leaves; the song of a thrush singing its heart out; the sheep, shorn of their winter fleece, cropping the meadow behind them; his nearness; her yearning and, over it all, the ache in her ankle, which was even more swollen and throbbing painfully. She had to distract herself from it.

  ‘What needs doing to Witherington House first?’ she asked, surprised at how normal her voice sounded.

  ‘Once we have possession, you mean? I think the roof must be first, to make it weatherproof, then the stairs...’

  ‘Definitely the stairs,’ she said, laughing a little.

  ‘Yes, then any alterations to the rooms and painting and decorating. Then finding furniture and taking on staff.’

  ‘Do you really think we can have it all done by the winter?’

  ‘I don’t see why not.’

  ‘And will we have enough money?’

  ‘We must continue to raise more.’

  ‘I can write more letters and organise the fair we spoke of.’

  ‘On one leg, Jane?’ he queried, raising an eyebrow to her.

  ‘That will soon mend and I will still be able to drive the trap round the village and round up some help.’

  He looked down at the limb in question. There was no doubt it was more swollen. ‘I think we had better cool that down before we go on.’ He knelt to release the bandage, unwinding it carefully. The foot was beginning to turn purple. ‘You must see a doctor as soon as we get back. Sit still. I’ll go and soak this in water.’

  Sit still! She could hardly move. She ate a little of the bread with some ham and washed it down with wine, which seemed to be going to her head.

  He came back with the cloth wrung out in a stream he had found. ‘This should help,’ he said kneeling to rebandage her foot.

  In spite of his care, she could not stop a squeak of pain mixed with pleasure at his touch. Oh, she was a mass of contradictions.

  ‘I’ll be as gentle as I can,’ he said.

  ‘You are being gentle, Mark, and I am being a coward.’

  ‘You are certainly not that. Now, is that better?’

  ‘Much, thank you.’

  ‘I think we had better get you home. Have you had enough to eat and drink?’

  ‘Yes, thank you. It was delicious.’

  He packed the remnants away and put the basket back in the curricle, then came back for her. Putting his hands under her arms he pulled her upright on one foot, then picked her up. ‘I’m sorry to be such a nuisance,’ she said.

  ‘You are not a nuisance. It is not often I am called upon to carry a beautiful young lady in my arms and for you it is a pleasure and a privilege.’

  Beautiful, he had said. She didn’t believe it for a minute; she was plain Jane, always had been, always would be, but it was lovely to hear it. In spite of her injury, it had been a wonderful day altogether. To have him to herself in close proximity was a treat to be savoured and remembered in years to come.

  Mark drove very carefully, trying to avoid potholes and bumps in the road, but either she had drunk too much champagne or the pain was making her head swim, but try as she might, she could not keep it upright. Her eyes closed and she lolled on his shoulder.

  He turned to smile at her and transferred the reins to the other hand so that the movement of his arm did not disturb her. Why he had only recently noticed how lovely she was, he did not know, and it was not simply a lovely face, she had a lovely temperament, quiet, caring of others, often to the
detriment of her own needs, and he loved her. He could not tell her so while he was engaged to her sister, Jane herself would never countenance that, but as soon as he was officially free he would have to speak of it. He wanted her, he wanted her so badly he ached.

  He could imagine her as Lady Wyndham, managing his household efficiently and without fuss, standing at his side at official functions, being a wonderful mother to their children, loving him. Was it possible? He was annoyed to think that it all depended on the whim of Isabel. It was a pity Sir Edward was so against Drew. Where was Drew?

  * * *

  His musing came to a halt as he pulled up at the front door of Greystone Manor. Gently he touched her hand to wake her. ‘Home, Jane.’

  She looked startled, as if not sure where she was. ‘Have I been asleep?’

  ‘Yes. It probably did you good. Now we have to face your parents and they will undoubtedly give me a jobation for not looking after you.’

  ‘Do not be silly, of course they will not.’

  He lifted her down and carried her up the steps. ‘Can you reach the knocker?’

  The door was opened by Ruby, the downstairs maid. ‘Lord a’ mercy,’ she said. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Miss Cavenhurst has had an accident,’ Mark said. ‘Fetch Lady Cavenhurst, will you?’

  The maid scuttled off and Mark put Jane down to stand on one foot, but he kept his arm about her. They were standing like that when Sir Edward and Lady Cavenhurst came hurrying towards them, closely followed by Isabel and Sophie.

  ‘What happened?’ her ladyship said, looking at the pair and then down at Jane’s foot.

  ‘I caught my foot in a broken stair tread at the house,’ she said. ‘It is a little swollen and painful, but it will be better by tomorrow.’

  ‘I think Miss Cavenhurst should be taken to her room,’ Mark put in. ‘She can tell you all about it when she has been made comfortable and the doctor sent for.’