Rags-to-Riches Bride Page 9

  ‘Shall we take a stroll in the park this afternoon, Diana?’ Stephen asked, as the pudding, a light lemony concoction, was served.

  She forced herself out of her contemplation to pay attention. ‘Yes, that would be very nice. Perhaps we can take Toby with us. He would like a run in the park.’

  There was only a moment’s hesitation before he said, ‘Of course.’

  ‘Shall we all go?’ John suggested. ‘It is a lovely day, too nice to stay indoors. You do not mind, Grandmama, do you?’

  ‘No,’ the old lady said. ‘You know I always take a nap in the afternoons. I shall see you all at dinner.’

  Diana enjoyed the walk. Stephen was at his charming best and Mrs Harecroft unbent sufficiently to talk to her. Richard let Toby off his lead and sent him scampering after a ball, throwing it again when he retrieved it. It was the most relaxed she had seen him.

  ‘Mr Richard is not at all like Mr Stephen, is he?’ Diana ventured, as Stephen went ahead to speak to his father, who was inclined to stride out and not stroll as the ladies were doing.

  ‘No, he never was. He was always out on the estate, helping with the horses, riding, full of restless energy. When he left school, he was expected to go into the shop, but he hated it and in the end he chose to go into the army. For Stephen, of course, the shop is his life. He loves the cut and thrust of business. I am glad of that. Richard will inherit the title and the estate eventually, but second sons need something to occupy them and I could not bear it if Stephen went into the army. It seems to change people.’ She did not elaborate on that, but turned to look at Diana. ‘Stephen tells me he has proposed.’

  ‘Yes. I have not yet given him an answer.’

  ‘Take your time, Miss Bywater. It does not do to rush into these things.’

  ‘No, I told him that.’ She took a deep breath before going on. ‘I should like to know what you think.’

  ‘About you as a wife for Stephen?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘If Stephen has chosen you, then I will be happy to welcome you into the family as a daughter-in-law.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘I am told my husband’s grandmother has invited you to her party.’

  ‘Yes, but I cannot leave my father.’

  ‘You are a dutiful daughter, Miss Bywater, and that inclines me to believe you will also be a dutiful wife.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Stephen slowed to allow them to come up with him just as a breathless Richard returned, the dog scampering at his heels. Diana smiled. ‘You have made a conquest, Mr Richard,’ she said. ‘Toby does not take to everyone.’

  ‘No, he does not,’ Stephen put in. ‘He nipped my hand when I gave him over to the groom the other evening.’

  ‘I expect he was confused by his new surroundings and missing Papa,’ she told him, bending to pat the dog’s head and fasten his lead, ready to return to the street and back to Harecroft House, where the evening would be spent quietly reading.

  The next morning, Diana set off with Mr Harecroft and Stephen to go to work. She came home with them and then Stephen took her to see her father after dinner. He was improving slowly, and though he found speaking a trial and his words were still slurred, she was beginning to understand what he was saying. ‘I am sorry I let you down,’ he told her as soon as he felt confident enough to talk. ‘I was thinking of your mama all day. It was our wedding anniversary. She was an angel…’ Tears came to his eyes.

  ‘Yes, Papa, I know, but do not distress yourself over it.’ She wanted to stop him before Stephen realised what he meant.

  ‘Can’t stand that Beales woman,’ he went on. ‘Gave me some damned awful stew. Couldn’t eat it…’

  ‘You are not going back there, Captain,’ Stephen put in. ‘Indeed, I cannot imagine anything worse to put a man off recovering his health than the prospect of that place. It will be my privilege to find you somewhere more wholesome.’

  ‘Thank you. And you will look after my girl?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Good.’ He lay back and closed his eyes as if that was all he wanted to hear.

  ‘It is late,’ Diana whispered, wishing her father had not intimated that she meant to accept Stephen’s proposal and he approved. ‘I think he has tired himself out with the effort of talking. Shall we go and allow him to sleep?’

  Stephen was doing his best, she conceded, and if he helped her to look after Papa, then it was a point in his favour, but she still could not rid herself of a niggling doubt, a doubt his brother had put there. She could not help wondering what it was that Richard had been urging Stephen to tell her. Was there some dark secret, the telling of which might make her think differently about him? Stephen was so stiffly correct, she could not imagine him doing anything he should not. And he deferred to his father in everything. Richard, with his background, was the more likely to have a secret past. Why was he so distrustful of her? Did he truly think she would take advantage of a situation that was none of her making?

  Why did she keep thinking of him? Why, when she was busy at work, did a picture of the older brother come to her from nowhere, larger than life, his blue eyes boring into hers, almost reading her thoughts, making her tremble. Stephen never had that effect on her. But it was Stephen who wanted to marry her, not Richard. It was Stephen who had promised to look after her father, Stephen who had asked her to stay at Harecroft House and go to the ball with him, not Richard. Perhaps when Richard and his great-grandmother returned to Borstead Hall after the coronation, she would settle down and stop making comparisons.

  She retired to her room on their return in order to work on the alterations to her mother’s ballgown. The skirt she would leave as it was, except for shortening it because she was not as tall as her mother had been. In order not to spoil the embroidery, she was going to lift it from the waist. The bodice was pleated and had a boat-shaped neck and very voluminous sleeves, which were no longer fashionable, she meant to replace them with little puffed sleeves and use some of the excess material to fill in the neckline, which she felt was too low for a single young woman.

  Each evening on returning from the hospital, she worked on it. In a way she was glad of the excuse to keep to herself. Whatever Stephen said and the half-hearted acceptance of Mrs Harecroft, she still looked upon herself as an employee until such time as she decided to accept Stephen’s proposal, or turn it down. And then she risked losing her job. Better to keep out of the way.

  One evening Lady Harecroft wandered into her room to talk to her and admired the gown. ‘Your mother had an exceptional talent,’ she said on being told who had done the embroidery. ‘Where did she learn her skills?’

  ‘I do not know—I think she was largely self-taught.’

  ‘I think you will look very beautiful in it.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You will wear it for my party, won’t you?’

  ‘My lady, I am flattered to be asked, but I do not see how I can possibly come. My father…’

  ‘We will contrive something, my dear.’

  ‘He does not like being pushed into things, my lady. He is used to command. It comes hard being told what he may and may not do.’

  ‘I understand. I promise you, no one is going to push him into anything. Now I am off to my bed. Do not stay up too long, straining your eyes on that sewing.’

  Diana went to open the door for her and found herself face to face with Richard and the object of his scrutiny. Try as she might to keep to herself, she seemed to encounter him at every turn. He would look at her searchingly, taking in every line of her face, as if trying to commit it to memory. ‘Miss Bywater.’ Even her name coming from his lips had a different resonance than when others spoke it.

  ‘Richard,’ her ladyship said. ‘Come with me, I want to talk to you.’

  Richard looked at Diana, a half-smile on his lips, and shrugged his shoulders at her, as if he would have liked to stay, but duty called him away. ‘I am coming,’ he said. ‘Goodnight, Mis
s Bywater.’

  She bade him goodnight and retreated into her room, shut the door and leaned heavily against it. Her life was spiralling out of control.

  ‘Richard, tell me how Mr Bywater really is,’ Lady Harecroft said as soon as they arrived back in her room. ‘Is he a man with whom you can converse easily?’

  ‘Conversation is a little one-sided,’ he said. ‘But I can understand him most of the time. I gather he is improving day by day. And before you ask, it has not been possible to talk to him without Miss Bywater being present. And I still strongly disapprove. And suggesting Miss Bywater should bring him to your party was not a good idea. He is not ready for social intercourse yet.’ It was as near as he could go to telling her the truth without betraying Miss Bywater’s confidence. He was torn between the two—one trying to keep her shame from becoming common knowledge and the other determined to use her position to winkle out something she only hinted at. For someone used to being in control, it was an uncomfortable feeling.

  ‘Then perhaps he will consent to going into a private nursing home? There is a very good one not three miles from Borstead Hall.’

  ‘Miss Bywater says not.’

  ‘Yes, but has he been asked? I am sure if the idea is put to him, he will not wish to deprive his daughter of a little break from routine.’

  ‘No,’ he said firmly, anticipating her next demand.

  She chuckled. ‘Do not tell me you are not curious, because I will not believe it. You are usually out and about, pursuing your own affairs, but suddenly you decide to dine at home and join in family evenings and walks in the park, not to mention escorting Miss Bywater when Stephen should be doing it. I wonder at him allowing it.’

  ‘Perhaps he is not as committed as he pretends.’

  ‘Or perhaps he trusts you.’

  ‘I wish he did. He might listen—’ He stopped suddenly. He did not want to be quizzed on that subject.

  She laughed. ‘So, you have tried to warn him off, have you?’

  ‘I simply suggested he should think carefully.’

  ‘And what did he say?’

  ‘Told me to mind my own business.’

  She laughed. ‘Oh, off with you. I am going to my bed.’

  He kissed her and left her to the ministrations of Mathilde. He loved his great-grandmother devotedly and he wanted to please her. And there was Stephen to consider. Would having both Miss Bywater and her father down to Borstead make that any easier?

  Mr Harecroft, knowing he would get no work out of anyone on the day of Queen Victoria’s coronation and there were unlikely to be any customers, bowed to the inevitable and shut the shop, so that the staff could enjoy watching the procession and taking part in the festivities. The day began very early with guns firing in Hyde Park, bands playing and the rumble of every conceivable form of transport taking their passengers to their chosen viewing places. Soldiers were out early, marching to their positions. Every imaginable viewpoint along the route was soon taken; windows, balconies, walls and parapets, even some roofs were soon crammed with noisy people, high and low, all mixing together. The Harecroft household was up at dawn, the servants excitedly completing their chores in record time in order to rush off and view the procession.

  Lady Harecroft, being a peeress in her own right, had been invited to the Abbey and would be conveyed there by coach at eight o’clock. Lord and Lady Harecroft had declined the invitation; he had too much to do to waste time sitting for hours in a draughty church, dressed up like a peacock, he had told his mother. Mr and Mrs John Harecroft, with Richard, Stephen and Diana, elected to walk to Piccadilly, where a friend of the family had invited them to view the procession from their balcony.

  The crush in the streets was so great they began to doubt the wisdom of going on foot. They were forced out into the road with Mrs Harecroft clinging to her husband’s arm, and Stephen and Richard following with Diana firmly wedged between them. Each, in his own way, was determined to look after her. She felt she ought to be flattered, but the doubts remained. There was solid dependable Stephen who wanted to marry her, and the strong, masterful, so-called black sheep, who did not. She was not being asked to choose one or the other, so why did she keep comparing them? Why did she shiver at Richard’s touch? He had his hand under her right elbow and she could feel its strength and warmth. Stephen had tucked her other hand under his arm, possessively, protectively; she could feel it there, firm and comfortable but it did not ignite anything in her, no fire, no passion. She was ashamed of herself for her thoughts and determinedly shook them from her.

  They reached the house on the corner of Piccadilly and St James’s Street and were admitted by a footman and conducted up to the first-floor drawing room that overlooked the route of the procession where their host and his wife waited for them. They were offered refreshments and then went out on to the balcony where there were chairs placed for the ladies to sit while waiting for the procession to pass. They had a long wait, but there was so much to see as the crowds gathered, and so much to comment on, that the time passed quickly. The sound of cheering at a little after ten told them the procession was on its way. They stood up and craned their necks to catch a first glimpse of the state coach, accompanied by outriders of the Household Cavalry.

  Pulled by eight matched greys, it drew gasps of admiration as it came into sight, gleaming gold in the sunshine. Every bit of its elaborate decoration symbolised something: there were four large Tritons at each corner, the roof was supported by eight palm trees, laden with symbols. The roof was topped by a crown held by three boys holding the Sceptre, the Sword of State and the Ensigns of Knighthood, and the panels were painted with allegorical pictures. Inside sat the diminutive and very young Queen wearing a robe of crimson velvet trimmed with ermine and gold lace and a circlet of gold and diamonds on her head. The nearer she came, the louder were the cheers and the more frantically the crowds waved their little Union flags.

  The coach passed very slowly, but was soon lost to sight, with a deep sigh they turned back indoors to enjoy a light repast until the newly crowned Queen returned. The newspapers and the commemorative booklets that had been printed by the thousand told them what would be happening inside the Abbey and they talked a little about that as they ate. ‘I hope it is not all too much for Grandmother,’ Mr Harecroft said. ‘She would go, though I advised her against it.’

  ‘Great-Grandmama always does what she wants,’ Richard said. ‘She is always telling me she is old enough to do as she pleases.’

  ‘Yes, I know. It is the same with this party of hers. I have tried to dissuade her but to no avail. I wish you would talk to her, Richard.’

  ‘I have no influence with her, Father. Besides, I do not think it will hurt her. She is not going to do any of the preparations. It is all being organised by Great-Aunt Alicia. All she has to do is appear.’

  ‘Aunt Alicia is no longer young herself.’

  Richard laughed. ‘Do not let her hear you say that. You will risk a set-down if you do.’

  ‘What is she planning, do you know?’

  ‘Perhaps she hopes to announce our engagement,’ Stephen said, smiling at Diana and making her squirm.

  ‘Unlikely, brother. I doubt even she would presume to anticipate Miss Bywater’s decision.’ His conversation with the captain the day before had been enlightening but it had not answered his doubts about her. Naturally the captain was full of praise for his daughter, saying he knew how hard she worked and how he had let her down and he would be glad to see her settled with a good husband, which indicated he was in favour of the match with Stephen, but he had learned nothing of the real Diana. Fortune-hunter or the genuine article? Would she come to the party or stick by her refusal? If she did not come, then he would consider the dowager’s questions answered. She would remain simply Miss Diana Bywater, clerk, and he would probably never see her again. He wondered why that mattered if it meant his brother was free of her.

  The sound of guns being fired in the Park signalled the mo
ment when the crown was placed on the Queen’s head and they all trooped back on to the balcony, though it would be some time before the great golden coach came back into sight. The people in the street were cheering and shouting and waving banners with added frenzy. It was half past four when the coach returned and this time the Queen was wearing the great crown on her head, the Orb in her left hand and Sceptre in her right. She looked weighed down with it all, but smiled to left and right as the coach went by. ‘She is the same age as me and she rules an empire,’ Diana murmured. ‘Do you think that now there is a woman on the throne it will make any difference to ordinary lives?’

  ‘She will be guided by her ministers,’ Mr Harecroft said. ‘Men of wisdom and experience. I doubt much will change.’

  ‘I heard she can be wilful,’ their host told them. ‘She has banished her mother from her bedchamber and insists on seeing her ministers alone.’

  ‘Good for her,’ Richard said. ‘Perhaps she will be more inclined to address some of the evils we face and do something about poverty and lack of education for the poorer children.’