by Mary Balogh
Oh, Christopher, she thought, burying her face in her hands again, why? Why did you have to turn out this way? Or why did you not show yourself in your true colors before I was foolish enough to love you?
She started to cry, despising herself heartily as she fumbled in the side pocket of her dress for a handkerchief.-
Chapter 10
Harriet's birthday was approaching. She did not want a dinner or a ball or a party of any sort. Sandwiched as such an event would be between the Langbourne ball and the village fair, it would lose a great deal of its luster. An outing was what she wanted, a picnic of some sort, to include everyone from her own household and everyone from the Sinclairs'.
"You must ride over there with me after luncheon, Rebecca," she said at breakfast the morning after her outing with Mr. Bartlett and Mr. Carver. "They will be sure to come. They will be only too glad of some entertainment. But we must ask them today. It would be too dreadful if they accepted some other dreary invitation for that day and were unable to come. What would be the point of a picnic with only us there?"
"I would rather not go," Rebecca said. "I have planned to use today to alter those two dresses you asked me about a few days ago."
"Pooh," said Harriet, "they can wait. I am in no hurry. They are just old rags, anyway. They might as well be thrown away as I told you at the time. I shall have some new ones made."
"I would be happy if you would accompany Harriet," Maude said. "Stanley and I have already promised to visit the Farleys. It is a long drive, and I do not believe we will be back until late afternoon."
"You must take a carriage instead of riding, Harriet, my love," the baron said, looking out of the window with a frown. "I see the branches of the trees are swaying. There must be a wind, and I would not want either you or Rebecca to take a chill."
"Oh, Papa," Harriet protested crossly, "the sun is shining and it is August. We would positively cook in the carriage. No, we shall ride."
"This younger generation is so incautious," the baron said, turning to Mr. Bartlett for support. "They will ruin their health and their complexions rather than endure a little discomfort away from drafts." He drew his snuffbox from a pocket and proceeded to comfort his agitated nerves with a pinch of his favorite blend.
"One can tell that you have always been sensible about such matters, sir," Mr. Bartlett said. "Indeed, I find it almost impossible to believe that Miss Shaw is your daughter. But''-he smiled and inclined his head in the direction of the ladies, — "I have observed that both your daughter and your niece protect themselves very wisely from the elements. In my eyes, their beauty has suffered no adverse effect whatsoever from their occasional walks or rides."
The outcome of the whole conversation, Rebecca realized philosophically, was that she was to accompany Harriet to the Sinclair house that afternoon and that they were to ride there. It seemed that she would also be obliged to go on Harriet's birthday outing. And there was the fair only a week after that. Three occasions at least on which she would be forced to be in company with Christopher. She wondered how long he planned to stay. She could not endure too much of such torture, she felt. She must marry Philip. Only by doing so could she protect herself.
***
Harriet did not talk much during the ride. She appeared to be in a thoughtful mood. They were more than halfway to their destination before she broke the silence that Rebecca had welcomed.
"Do you not agree," she said, "that Mr. Christopher
Sinclair's somewhat inferior upbringing still shows on occasion?"
"Gracious, Harriet," Rebecca said, "whatever do you mean?"
"He is very handsome and fashionable and wealthy and all that," Harriet said, "and I still think I might have him. I am not quite sure. But he seems to lack something of the breeding of a true gentleman."
"Oh?" Rebecca prompted.
"Well," Harriet said, "I told you that he did not really defend me from the rudeness of that dreadful Mr. Carver when we were in Wraxby. And at the ball the other evening he danced the last set with Miss Susan Langbourne when everyone knows that he is my suitor.''
"But, Harriet," Rebecca said, "he had already danced two sets with you. It would have been considered improper for him to solicit your hand.for another."
"Nonsense!" Harriet said. "Country manners are not so strict, Rebecca." She seemed to see no contradiction with her earlier charge that Christopher was not a perfect gentleman. "Besides," she added, "Mr. Bartlett told me some things about him that I did not very much like."
"Oh," Rebecca said, and frowned. What had he said? She did hope that he would not talk too freely about Christopher's behavior in London. She could see why he had done so to her and even to Harriet. He was trying to protect the girl by opening her eyes to the truth. Yet Rebecca was not very confident of Harriet's discretion. She hoped that no word would reach Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. They were so obviously proud of their son that it would hurt if they discovered the true nature of his relationship with his wife.
"Of course," Harriet said, "one likes a man to be interesting, and one expects one's husband to have outside interests. It would be mortally dull to have him hanging about one's skirts for the rest of one's life. I shall have to ponder the matter."
Rebecca, thinking hack over what her cousin had said, drew the conclusion that Harriet was more disgusted by Christopher's slowness in coming to the point than by what she had found out about him. Her pride was piqued. She had been fully expecting some sort of declaration during the evening of the Langbourne ball, and none had been forthcoming. Perhaps she was beginning to fear that she would after all be unable to snare him. Hence she was beginning to withdraw gradually herself so that her pride would be salvaged if she failed to bring him up to scratch. It would be she who had rejected him, not the other way around.
Rebecca's hopes that perhaps some of the Sinclair family would be from home were quickly dashed. When the butler showed them into the sitting room, a buzz of conversation stopped, and she could see that they were all there. The buzz resumed, and the two visitors were welcomed into the group.
"Young ladies," Mr. Sinclair said, "you have arrived just in time to save the young people from tearing one another to pieces. The question is what to do for the duration of the afternoon, and the argument has gone on for a half hour or more."
"Julian and I want to walk down to the bridge," Ellen said. "It is a perfect day for a walk. It is too hot and dusty to ride, as Prim wants to do."
"Mr. Carver is willing to ride too," Primrose said, "but he wishes to go into the village to make some purchases, and I would prefer to ride in the opposite direction."
"And I am quite neutral," Christopher said with a grin. "And perhaps it is as well that we did not make up our minds before now, or we would have been from home when the Misses Shaw arrived."
"Oh, you must all ride home with us for tea," Harriet announced. "Maude and Mr. Bartlett have gone to the Farleys and will not be back forever. Rebecca and Papa and I would merely get on one another's nerves if we had no other company."
"Oh, good," Primrose said, "I shall get to exercise Peter after all today, then."
"And you must all keep the afternoon of Wednesday next free," Harriet said. "You too, if you please, Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair. It is my birthday and we are to go on an outing. Even Papa has said he will come provided that the weather is not too uncertain."
"How very delightful, my dear Miss Shaw," Mrs. Sinclair said. "Are we to go to the river again? I always did think that the perfect site for a picnic. Though you really must not be so naughty this time and worry your poor papa almost to his grave by walking along the wall of the bridge."
"No," Harriet said, "I have decided that we will drive farther afield than that. We are going to go to Cenross Castle."
Both Rebecca and Christopher turned their heads to look sharply at Harriet. Their eyes met over the top of her head.
"Harriet," Rebecca said, "Cenross Castle is ten miles away. It would take us almost the whole af
ternoon just getting there and back. There are many pretty and suitable places a great deal closer."
"Oh," Primrose said, clasping her hands to her breasts, "I love Cenross Castle. Mama and Papa took us there two years ago. It is an old ruin, Mr. Carver, but a person can still climb to the top of some of the old battlements and see for miles in all directions."
"And one can still go down to the dungeons," Julian added. "Ellen got stuck on the stairs last time."
"Well," Ellen said, "it is hardly surprising. They wind round and round in a tight spiral, Mr. Carver, and are very narrow even on the outside edge. And many of them are broken. And they are very dark. I was terrified. There must have been thousands of them."
"One hundred and sixty-four," Julian said. "Prim and I counted them."
"Uncle Humphrey would never travel such a distance, Harriet," Rebecca said.
"He will," her cousin said airily. "When he complains, I shall threaten never to talk to him again if he does not come."
"I would be delighted to see this old structure," Mr. Carver said amiably. "But don't expect me to climb battlements or descend to dungeons, Miss Shaw."
"Oh, I will not, sir," Harriet said, such ice dripping from her voice that Rebecca felt ashamed.
"Perhaps it would be wise, Miss Shaw," Christopher said, his voice expressionless, "to start early since the distance is quite great."
"What a good idea!" Harriet said, flashing him her most charming smile. "We shall leave in the morning, of course, and take a picnic luncheon with us. Oh, it is going to be a splendid birthday, I know."
He smiled back at her and for a mere second his eyes met Rebecca's again.
***
On the ride home, Harriet immediately singled out Julian for attention. It seemed very obvious to Rebecca that she was deliberately ignoring Christopher, trying to prompt him into jealousy, perhaps? The rest of the party rode in a close group. Rebecca stayed as close as she could to Ellen, terrified that she might become paired off in an undesirable way. However, it was Mr. Carver who finally drew her attention.
"I was disappointed not to see you this morning, Miss Shaw," he said. "Went to the school with Sinclair only t'find the vicar there. Meant t'impress you, and you weren't there." He laughed.
"I am so sorry, sir," Rebecca said, smiling, "but I notice that you have managed to tell me about it, at any rate, so that I might still be impressed."
He shook with laughter. "Saw through my ruse, did you, ma'am?" he said at last. "Must say I didn't feel comfortable at all. Disliked school enough when I had to go as a pupil. Had a deuced time getting Sinclair away, though."
"Really?" Rebecca said, making a poor job of keeping the sarcasm from her voice.
"Sat down next to that young fellow with the eyeglasses to help him read," Mr. Carver said, "and seemed t'forget all about me and the vicar and our luncheon."
"He might have saved himself the trouble," Rebecca said. "Cyril is an extremely shy boy. He probably blinked and stammered and fidgeted until he had convinced Mr. Sinclair that he was an idiot."
"On the contrary," Mr. Carver said. "The lad was smiling and talking in no time, and then had his head into the book until I thought it would never come out. He was making progress too, by all accounts. Even that poker-faced vicar admitted it. Oh, pardon me, ma'am-most indelicate." Mr. Carver started to cough and turned away his head.
"Did I hear my name?" Christopher asked, easing back on his horse's reins to allow the two stragglers to catch up to him and his two sisters.
"Was telling Miss Shaw about that lad with eyeglasses that you helped this morning, Sinclair," Mr. Carver explained.
Christopher smiled. "I merely sat and listened to him," he said. "It is Miss Shaw who has done all the hard work."
Rebecca did not reply. She was trying to maneuver her horse forward so that she would be riding with Ellen and Primrose, but Mr. Carver had the same idea and executed it before she could do so. To her dismay, she found herself riding alongside Christopher, a little way behind the others.
"Did you know that you have a willing slave in that boy?" Christopher asked.
"Cyril?" she said. "I am fond of him. But really one must not exaggerate what I have done for either him or the other boys."
"I think he would not even be at the school if it were not for you, Becky," he said.
"Oh, nonsense," she said. "I believe I helped Philip to see what Cyril's problem was, but it was Philip himself who decided to buy the eyeglasses and who took the boy to Wraxby in order to purchase them."
Christopher smiled. "You have not changed at all, Becky, have you?" he said. "You still hate to be praised."
"Will you go to Harriet's birthday outing?" Rebecca blurted suddenly.
"Yes," he said after a pause. "It would be bad-mannered not to."
She did not look at him. "I thought you would perhaps find some excuse to avoid it," she said.
He did not answer for a while. "Becky," he said at last, quietly, "I shall be leaving soon. I would have been gone already, but my mother has been very happy with my visit and has set her heart on my being here for the village fair. But soon after that I shall return to town. I will not come again, and you need not fear that I shall break the promise this time. I did not know that my presence here would upset you after all this time, but I can see that it has. I am sorry. But you can be at peace again soon."
"Why did you come?" she asked passionately, and then looked across at him aghast, wishing beyond everything that she could recapture those words.
He looked back at her, his face stiff with some sort of inner tension. "I don't know, Becky," he said. He drew breath to say more, but closed his mouth again and stared ahead. "I don't know," he repeated lamely.
They rode in silence for the rest of the way to Limeglade.
***
So he was leaving soon, Rebecca was thinking. The fair was eight days away. He would stay perhaps two or three days after that. In two weeks' time at the most, he would be gone. And this time, he had said, he would keep his promise not to come back. After perhaps ten or eleven days she would never see him again. Never. It was a long time. An unbearably long time. Better, surely, the torture of seeing him occasionally, of having her whole life upset by his presence.
She could raise her eyes and see him now if she wished. She was sitting in Mr. Sinclair's open barouche, one arm resting across the top of a door, staring at her gloved hand. But she knew that he rode just a little ahead of them on her side of the vehicle. Julian was with him. She did not look up.
"Now, Miss Shaw," Mrs. Sinclair said from the opposite seat of the barouche, "do tell us how your cousin succeeded in persuading his lordship to come this afternoon. I said to Mr. Sinclair that he would never consent if she pleaded and threatened for a week and Mr. Sinclair agreed with me. You might have knocked me down with a feather when we arrived at Limeglade earlier to find his lordship all ready for the outing."
"It was not easy, ma'am," Rebecca said with a smile. "But you underestimate Harriet's powers of persuasion. She succeeded finally when she convinced Uncle Humphrey that his health would not be in jeopardy. She even agreed to ride with him in the closed carriage, and that has turned out to be a greater sacrifice than she bargained for. It is an extremely hot day. The inside of the carriage must be sweltering. And we have agreed to picnic in the old courtyard of the castle. It is surrounded by the ruins of the walls, you see, so that it is perfectly sheltered from the wind no matter what direction it blows from."
It really had been a stormy argument, Rebecca thought privately. Harriet had won her point with a great deal of pouting and head tossing and threatening. The baron had resorted to three separate pinches of snuff before giving in and graciously agreeing to favor the picnic with his presence. Maude had been distressed, Mr. Bartlett conciliatory. Only Rebecca had stayed completely out of the discussion.
Fortunately for Rebecca, the baron's carriage was crowded when it contained more than four persons. Although Mr. Bartlett gra
ciously offered to ride, Harriet had been most insistent that he accompany her in the carriage. In fact, she had been unusually friendly with him in the last few days, another ruse to force Christopher's hand, Rebecca guessed. She herself hastened to offer to ride in the Sinclair barouche. Mrs. Sinclair had already offered it to anyone who needed a ride, though it would already be almost filled with Mr. and Mrs. Sinclair, Ellen, and Primrose. Mr. Carver and Philip rode up ahead of the carriage. Christopher and Julian stayed closer to their own family.
Philip had been hesitant about coming. It would mean closing the school for the day. And there had been altogether too many social activities in the last few weeks to take him from his parish duties, he said. However, he had talked with the vicar of Wraxby the day before and arranged for him to come to the village in two and a half weeks' time to marry Rebecca and him. He felt it was time that Rebecca's family and closest neighbors be told of the plans. The birthday outing seemed a suitable occasion to announce the coming event.
Cenross Castle could be seen for several miles before they reached it, built as it was on the top of a wooded hill. From a distance it looked impressive, its gray stone walls massive, its slit windows, from which archers would have defended its keep against attackers, sinister. Only as one drew closer was it possible to see that the castle now was a mere shell, its outer walls sheltering only crumbled ruins and a grassy courtyard.
Yet one part of the battlements remained almost intact and the stone steps leading to it passable, though crumbling. And one of the dungeons, which had been constructed deep inside the hill, was still there and could be reached by a dangerously disintegrating spiral stone staircase. It was a very pleasant site for a picnic. The old walls sheltered visitors from the winds, yet the battlements and the window slits afforded a quite breathtaking view across the countryside for miles in all directions. And at the foot of the hill to the west ran a river, wide and fast flowing, a natural moat on one side of the castle at least.