“You must allow me to introduce you,” said Justin, his attitude becoming less constrained. “My sister, as always, has run on, without a thought for the conventions.”
He spoke with a smile which took any sting out of the words.
“I confess, I had quite forgotten,” she said with a dimple.
“Might I present my sister, Lady Anne Carmarthon. Mr. and Mrs. Winter, and Miss Paxton.”
The introductions over, Anne said, “Now tell me, Justin, did Troilus behave himself?”
“In a manner of speaking,” said Justin.
Anne looked at him questioningly.
“He hid my cravat, chewed my best boots and horrified the Duchess of Loomonth by licking her face.”
“The Duchess invariably wears too much powder, and it must have offended Troilus’s sense of what was proper,” said Anne with a saucy smile.
Justin laughed.
In his sister’s company, at least, he could be relaxed, thought Cassandra. Listening to their light-hearted banter, she caught a glimpse of his family life. His sister obviously trusted him and loved him very much. Anne had been left in his care as a young girl, and had gone on to become a happy woman, and she hoped that she could do as well by Lizzie.
She turned to look at Justin. His face had lost its strained lines and become open and carefree. He looked younger, and his smile was appealing. He was a different man away from state problems, and she found herself wishing they had met in happier circumstances. Then she might have seen more of his lighter side.
“But you have not been looking after him properly,” Anne continued as they walked towards the house. “He looks overfed. You must have been giving him titbits. Either that, or not walking him enough.”
“It has nothing to do with that, and everything to do with the string of sausages he stole from the breakfast-table yesterday,” remarked Justin.
“A likely story! Justin always overfed the dogs, even as a boy,” said Anne confidingly.
“I can rely on my sister to destroy my reputation with anyone she meets,” he remarked.
“Of course. That’s what sisters are for,” she teased him.
“As long as you accuse me of nothing worse than over-feeding the dogs, I will be content.”
“I will say nothing more. Of the time you took father’s horse when he had expressly forbidden you to ride it I will say nothing. And talk of how you climbed on to the roof, pretending it was the turret of a castle, and then fell off and broke your arm will never cross my lips. Nor will I embarrass you by telling everyone how you rescued my doll when Cousin William threw her into the lake.”
It began to rain again and they hurried into the house. Footmen helped them remove their outdoor clothes and then Anne led the way into the dining-room.
“Oh!” said Maria.
“Do you like it?” asked Anne.
“It’s wonderful,” said Maria, going over to the chimney piece and admiring the intricately carved marble.
“Don’t encourage her,” said Justin fondly.
“I was so pleased when we found this house,” said Anne. “It had become very run down, and my husband and I have spent the last three years restoring it. This is my favourite room.”
Cassandra could see why. It was a large apartment, with high ceilings and elegant proportions. Decorated in shades of pale green, it had white plasterwork on the walls and ceiling, and the furniture was Louis XVI. Its graceful lines complemented the graceful proportions of the room. An Aubusson carpet covered the floor, adding an air of restrained luxury to the room.
After bidding them sit down, Anne rang for tea.
“How did you enjoy your stay in London?” Justin asked Anne.
“Well enough, but it was really too hot. Have you been to the capital, Miss Paxton?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Cassandra. “Not very often, but on occasion.”
“Aren’t the shops wonderful?”
“Yes, they are.”
“I visited Ackermann’s showrooms, and of course I went to Grafton House. Charles swears he will not go to Grafton House with me again, as I spent four hours there examining all the fabrics. I declare, it only felt like four minutes to me.”
“How is Charles?” Justin asked.
“Very well. He is coming home tomorrow. I like to arrive first,” she said to Cassandra. “Then I can have everything ready by the time he gets here.”
“Have you read any more of Mrs. Radcliffe’s novels?” asked Cassandra.
She looked from Cassandra to Justin in surprise.
“I came across Miss Paxton on the way to the library and we exchanged our views on the latest novels. I told her you were fond of Mrs. Radcliffe’s books.”
“I see. No, I have not read anything by Mrs. Radcliffe recently, but I have just read Maria Edgeworth’s Belinda.”
“I haven’t read that,” said Cassandra. “I have just finished Castle Rackrent.”
“Oh, that is much better. It is one of my favourites. Did you like it?”
“Yes, I did. My only complaint is that it is too short.”
“That is exactly what Justin said! But it is still a very good book. I like it almost as much as Udolpho.”
They talked of books until tea was brought in, comparing the different Brighton libraries and discussing their favourite novels. The butler and footmen carried in everything necessary on a succession of trays and Anne presided.
“Do you play at cards?” she asked Cassandra afterwards.
“Yes.”
“Oh, good. I am a terrible player, but Justin likes to play. This table is perfect for cribbage,” she said, pulling a table forward and taking out a deck of cards. She turned to Maria and Harry. “I hope you will indulge me by telling me what I have missed in Brighton whilst I have been away.”
“Of course,” said Maria.
Harry added his assent.
“You must forgive my sister,” said Justin.
“Not at all,” said Cassandra, not wanting to betray her feelings.
In truth, she scarcely understood them herself. She should not feel plea sure in his company, and yet she did. Confusingly, she also felt pain. There was no denying that her life had become difficult since meeting Justin, but she would not have foregone their meeting, even if she could have done.
“Will you go first?” he asked.
“Yes.”
He dealt the cards and they began to play. Justin was a good player, but Cassandra had the satisfaction of beating him. Her luck did not hold, however, and she lost their next game. A third game would have decided it, but as Justin began to shuffle the cards the clock on the mantelpiece chimed the hour.
“We must be going,” said Maria, standing up.
Cassandra glanced at the clock, and was surprised to see that two hours had passed. The visit had been far longer than was generally acceptable, but Anne did not seem to mind.
“I have been so glad to meet you,” she said. “I hope you will do me the honour of attending my ball the week after next.”
“That’s very kind of you,” said Maria. “Harry and I would be delighted.”
“I hope you, too, will come,” said Anne to Cassandra.
Faced with a direct invitation, Cassandra did not feel she could refuse. To her surprise, she did not mind. The afternoon had done much to dispel the awkwardness she had felt in Justin’s company. She had enjoyed talking to him and playing with him, discovering a companionableness that she had not expected.
“Good,” said Anne. “Then it is settled.”
The carriage was brought round. Cassandra took her place beside Maria and opposite Harry, and the coach rolled away.
“Well, I did not expect that,” said Maria with satisfaction.
“Nor I,” said Cassandra, thinking of her surprising day.
“And to crown it all, an invitation to a ball.”
“Yes.”
Cassandra could not decide whether she was looking forward to the ball or not. It wou
ld be difficult in some ways, and yet her spirits rose when she thought about it.
“We must spend the next few days shopping,” said Maria. “I need some new lace for my dress, and I am sure you need something, too.”
“I will not be here for the next few days,” said Cassandra.
“Not here?” asked Maria in surprise. “What do you mean?”
“I am taking the spare furniture back to the estate. I don’t want it cluttering up the house when I try to sell it.”
“Oh, I see. Can John not see to it?”
“It’s not fair to expect him to do it alone. Besides, he will not know where to put everything. I have not decided myself. If I go with him, I can sort it out before returning.”
“But you will not be gone for too long?”
“No, I hope not.”
“Then we will go shopping when you come back.” Maria hesitated, then said, “I should not tell anyone you are going away, Cassie. If you do, you will have to tell them why, and it is better not to let everyone know you are poverty stricken. There’s no need to mention selling the house until you are absolutely certain you are going to do so.”
“Some people seem to know about it already. It’s difficult to prevent such news leaking out.”
“Even so, there is no need to advertise it.”
Cassandra agreed, but for very different reasons. The fewer people who knew she was leaving Brighton, the better.
“Very well,” she said.
She found herself hoping that Justin would be able to find the traitors’ ringleader quickly so that she could return to Brighton and finish her business. And she could not disguise from herself the fact that she was looking forward to Anne’s ball.
Anne and Justin remained in the drawing-room when their guests had gone. Anne was sitting on an elegant chaise-longue looking through a fashion journal, whilst Justin stood by the mantelpiece, winding the clock.
Anne turned over the pages of a fashion journal, then said nonchalantly, “I like her.”
“Who?” Justin asked.
“My dear brother, don’t try to dissemble,” she said, putting the journal down on her knee. “It doesn’t become you. Besides, it does no good. You have never been able to fool me.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he returned, setting the clock straight again.
“I’m talking about Cassandra.”
He raised one eyebrow. “Do you mean Miss Paxton?”
“No. I mean Cassandra. I think you should marry her.”
“This is very sudden,” he said lightly. “You’ve only just met her. Besides, you told me not six weeks ago that I should marry Miss Kerrith.”
“That was different.”
“In what way?”
“You had just celebrated your thirtieth birthday, and as no one had caught your eye, I thought you should marry the first suitable young lady you came across. Miss Kerrith was a good choice. She was pretty, not too spoilt, and best of all, an heiress. I know you loved Papa. So did I. But he had no head for business, and when his investments failed he ran up ruinous debts. I hated to see you sell the estate. I hated it even more when you had to sell your hunters in order to give me a season.”
“How did you know about that?” he asked in surprise.
“I heard the servants talking. I have always known what you sacrificed for me so that I could have a splendid come out and I’ve always been grateful for it. It enabled me to meet Charles, and I have been very happy with him, but now I’d like the same happiness to befall you. If you marry Cassandra I think it will.”
“She’s very charming, but I prefer brunettes,” he said lightly.
She laughed. “Oh, no, Justin, that won’t do. I know exactly how you feel about her. Why else would you keep her portrait in your pocket? And not just any pocket, but the one right over your heart.”
“What?”
“It’s in a gold locket, on a slim gold chain. How you came by it I don’t know, but I do know that you are never parted from it.”
“How did you know about it?” he asked in amazement.
“My dear Justin, it was not difficult. I saw you fiddling with it so many times that I wondered what you could keep in your waistcoat. At last my curiosity overcame me, and I slipped into your room whilst you were taking a bath.”
He gave an exclamation and threw up his hands in a mixture of disgust and despair.
She looked at him intently.
“You’re angry with me,” she said.
He walked across the room and stood looking down at her.
“No, I’m not angry with you. I could never be angry with you. But I would rather you didn’t mention this to anyone else.”
“Of course not, if you don’t want me to.” She paused, then said, “It is serious, then?”
“No, it is not. Miss Paxton will never marry me.”
“That is not what I mean. Your feelings for her are serious?”
“Yes, they are. But it’s hopeless,” he said with a sigh.
“You seem very sure about that,” she remarked, eyeing him intently.
“I am.”
“It is surely worth asking her?”
“No. It’s impossible.”
“It seems perfectly easy to me,” she rallied him.
He shook his head. “You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it to me.”
He shook his head.
“There are some things I cannot explain, Anne, even to you.”
She regarded him for a few moments, then said, “Very well, if you can’t, you can’t. But I would like to see you married, all the same, Justin.”
He gave a twisted smile.
“If I am lucky, maybe Miss Kerrith will have me.”
She didn’t smile at his forced banter. Instead, she looked troubled.
“I wish I knew what has happened to you recently. You are not usually like this. You usually set out to get the things you want in life, and you usually succeed. I know you want Cassandra, it’s no use denying it, but for some reason you won’t pursue her. Why not? Has something happened between you? Is that it?”
“Anne—”
“Is it something very bad?” she asked.
He turned towards her, revealing the hurt in his eyes.
“Yes, my dear, I’m afraid it is.”
“In time…” she said hesitantly.
“No. Not in time. I did something to hurt her, unwittingly, and it goes too deep.” He remembered the way she had turned from him when he had tried to kiss her on the forehead. “She has forgiven me for it and in time, perhaps, we might have become friends, but even that is no longer possible. She means to sell the Brighton house and retire to her estate. Once the summer is over, I will not even have the comfort of seeing her.”
Anne put her hand on his arm, then said, “She is coming to my ball in two weeks’ time. A lot can happen in two weeks.”
Justin smiled. But to himself, he thought, That is exactly what I’m afraid of.
CHAPTER NINE
Cassandra set off early the following morning, before fashionable Brighton was astir. The coach rolled through the streets and out of town. The fields were fresh under the early morning sky, with dew still clinging to the grass. After the blue of the sea, it was refreshing to be surrounded by green fields again.
They stopped once, at an inn, where they partook of a light luncheon, and then pressed on, reaching her house late in the afternoon. She felt a surge of happiness as the coach rolled in between the stone gateposts and went up the drive, turning a last bend to reveal her much-loved home.
It was a gentleman’s residence of ample proportions, and from a distance there was no sign of decay. Two storeys tall, it had large windows arranged symmetrically along the front. There was a small parapet concealing the bottom of the hipped roof, and there were windows set into the roof. They shed light on the servants’ quarters, although the quarters were now empty. The servants had gone, and only Moll an
d John remained. Because of their age and their position as friends as well as servants, Moll and John did not sleep in the attic, but both slept on the first floor.
As the coach rumbled between the wide lawns, Cassandra decided she must do something about the grounds. The flower-beds under the windows were overgrown and untidy. The Paxtons had never been gardeners and Cassandra was no exception, being unable to tell a plant from a weed, but she resolved to ask Mrs. Windover, the rector’s wife, for instruction. It would be cheerful to have colourful flower beds in front of the house to brighten it.
The coach came to a halt and Cassandra alighted. The house might be run down and heavily mortgaged, but it was home. She unlocked the door and went inside. It was just as she had left it, with its oak panelling glowing in the late summer sunshine, and its moth-eaten carpet swirling with motes of dust. The long-case clock ticked companionably in the corner, and the oak table pushed against the wall creaked in welcome as she set down her valise. The stairs rose ahead of her, their ancient steps worn in the middle by countless generations of Paxton feet.
Cassandra took off her bonnet and spencer and went into the library, where the mixture of grandeur and shabbiness continued. The furniture was a blend of solid oak and more modern, gilded pieces, but most of the gilding was coming off. The curtains were made of heavy damask, but they had been attacked by moths. The Aubusson carpet was threadbare and the porcelain ornaments were chipped. But the bookcases had been lovingly polished, and the leather books on the shelves filled the air with their scent.
She wandered over to the window. The wide lawns, kept short by Farmer Jenkins’ sheep, stretched away to a shrubbery beyond. It seemed impossible to believe that, only a few days ago, someone had been trying to kill her. Now that she was at home again, the idea seemed fantastic. Might not her accidents have been simply accidents? An accidental dipping was not uncommon and could easily be accounted for. Then, too, the race track had been crowded. Might she not have been jostled by a fellow race-goer who had had no intention of knocking her under the hoofs of the horses?
But then there was Rupert…He had been a traitor. And if Justin was worried, she would do well to be worried, too.