The House at Bell Orchard Read online

  6

  A Spell of Fair Weather

  Lady Wychwood, on being appealed to, gave it as her opinion that there was no reason why Miss Tarrant should not go riding with Dorothy and Piers. She called upon Mrs. Fenshawe to support her in this, wording the request so skilfully that Lavinia, for all her shrewdness, was unable to disagree, and was obliged to give her consent to a proposal which filled her with vexation and misgiving.

  It was arranged that, if the weather continued fine, Dorothy and Piers would come to Bell Orchard the following day, when Charmian would be ready to go with them. Buoyed up by this pleasing prospect, she felt herself able to ignore Lavinia’s obvious displeasure, and refused to be dismayed by the ominous silence which Mrs. Fenshawe maintained throughout their homeward journey.

  Before this was over, an incident occurred to remind her that there were still many matters concerning the Fenshawes of which she knew nothing. They had passed through Wychwood End and reached the crossroads a short way beyond where they must turn sharply along the road to Bell Orchard. A great tree spread its branches where the four roads met, and at its foot a woman was sitting with a baby in her lap. The child had watched with wondering eyes the approach of the coach and its four powerful horses, and as it slowed to turn the corner he shouted with glee and stretched out his little hands, excited by the clatter of hooves and jingle of harness so close beside him.

  With one graceful movement the woman gathered him in her arms and rose to her feet, and Charmian found herself staring through the window of the coach at the most beautiful girl she had ever seen. It was a voluptuous, statuesque beauty which might coarsen and fade in later life, but at present—she was very young—its impact was startling and enhanced rather than impaired by her plain country garb of dimity gown and homespun petticoat. Curls like burnished copper glowed beneath her coarse straw hat, and though the sturdy boy in her arms had dark eyes and hair as black as a raven’s wing, the likeness between them was strong enough to mark them unmistakably as mother and son.

  The girl curtsied respectfully as the coach lumbered by, but the servility of the gesture was made ridiculous by the tilt of her head and the mocking insolence in those astonishing, violet-blue eyes as she looked at the two women in the carriage. When they had passed her, Charmian turned impulsively to Lavinia to ask who she might be, but was checked by the sheer fury in the other woman’s face. Mrs. Fenshawe was staring straight before her with narrowed eyes, her lips tightly compressed and a spot of colour burning in each painted cheek. Charmian had known her long enough to be able to translate these danger signals, and to realize that Lavinia’s earlier vexation was as nothing to the fury that consumed her now; it would plainly be wiser to say nothing.

  By the following day the incident had faded from her mind, and some time was to pass before she thought of it again. Sir Piers and his sister arrived promptly, and Charmian, who had found herself looking forward to the meeting with an uncommon degree of eagerness, refused to let her pleasure be spoiled by Lavinia’s continued ill-humour.

  She was a good rider, and found it delightful to be on horseback again, and as her companions knew every inch of the countryside, they led her by pleasant and often unfrequented ways. Crossing the park to the shore, they followed the coast eastwards for several miles until they reached a small fishing village, and there turned inland again along the road which passed the gates of Bell Orchard. The sun shone brightly, its warmth tempered by a fresh breeze from the sea, and Charmian’s spirits rose until she felt happier than she had done at any time since her father’s death.

  In Dorothy’s merry company it was impossible to feel depressed. She chattered incessantly, and though for the most part her brother listened with a kind of indulgent resignation, he once or twice intervened to check her bubbling high spirits. Then Dorothy would pout and toss her head, and fall silent for a few minutes, but these exchanges were entirely good-humoured and it was plain that brother and sister were deeply attached to one another. Charmian, watching them, reflected wistfully that Dorothy was much to be envied.

  When they reached Bell Orchard again the Wychwoods declined to enter the house. Piers, aiding Miss Tarrant to dismount, thanked her courteously for the pleasure of her company, and Dorothy, still in the saddle, said buoyantly: “Let us ride again tomorrow! We ought to take advantage of this fine weather while it lasts.”

  Charmian agreed willingly to this, and then farewells were said and Piers and Dorothy rode off along the drive. Charmian, entering the house, was met by a servant with the information that Mrs. Fenshawe had expressed a desire to speak with her immediately she came in.

  Conscious of a feeling of apprehension which she told herself was absurd, she went reluctantly into the front parlour. Lavinia was sitting by the window with a book in her hand, but Charmian felt sure that she had not been reading. The window commanded a view of the entrance drive, and she knew that her hostess must have watched her return with Dorothy and Sir Piers.

  “So there you are!” Lavinia greeted her peevishly. “I take it that you enjoyed your ride?”

  “Very much, Lavinia, I thank you,” Charmian replied equably, and then, since evasion might seem to hint at some disquiet on her own part, she added: “We are to ride again at the same time tomorrow.”

  “Indeed?” Lavinia laid her book down on the window-seat beside her and spoke deliberately. “If these excursions are to become a daily occurrence, I do not think I can approve of them.”

  “May I ask why?”

  “The reason, surely, is plain enough. You are in mourning.”

  “If I may go riding one day with perfect propriety, I can see no reason why I should not do so again the next. Lady Wychwood saw no harm in it, and you agreed with her.”

  Lavinia’s lips tightened. “I agreed because in the circumstances I could not do otherwise without discourtesy, but I did not suppose that you intended to make a habit of such jaunts. If you have engaged to ride tomorrow, then you must do so, but that, if you please, will be the end of it.”

  A sudden anger awoke in Charmian. She might be afraid of Colonel Fenshawe, but she certainly did not stand in awe of his wife.

  “No, Lavinia,” she said quietly, “it will not be the end of it. I do not wish to quarrel with you, but you must give me credit for some opinions of my own. For me to ride quietly about the countryside with Miss Wychwood and her brother can outrage nobody, and I feel sure that even Papa himself would not wish me to be denied so harmless a pleasure.”

  “Very well!” Mrs. Fenshawe spoke with a snap. “Since you will not be guided by my advice I will give you the plain facts, and if you find them hurtful you have only yourself to blame. Remember, Charmian, that though to us, who know the whole truth, your father’s death was an honourable one, the world at large regards it in a very different light. Suicide is a shocking and disgraceful thing, and the ugly shame of it inevitably clings to the relatives of one who commits it. I do not think the so-correct Sir Piers, or his mother, would condone Dorothy’s friendship with you if they were informed of the truth.”

  Charmian drew a sharp breath and closed her eyes, gripping the back of a chair to steady herself. The unfeeling words brought the manner of her father’s death before her again in all its horror, and she knew that, unjust though it was, there would always henceforth be a slight savour of scandal attached to her name. Then she remembered the level directness of Piers Wychwood’s eyes, and the wise kindliness in his mother’s face, and the memory brought reassurance.

  “Do not threaten me, Lavinia,” she said, and though her heart thumped painfully her voice was steady enough. “I believe that neither Lady Wychwood nor Sir Piers would think any the worse of me because of something for which I was in no way to blame, and to prove that belief I shall tell them the truth myself. And I shall remain upon friendly terms with Miss Wychwood as long as she and they desire it!”

  She turned and went out of the room, and as the door closed behind her Lavinia swore viciously under her
breath. Then, her feelings not wholly relieved by profanity, she snatched up her book and flung it across the room. She knew that her husband would be displeased when he learned of Miss Tarrant’s growing friendship with the Wychwoods, but at present she could see no way to end it. She realized she was handling the affair ineptly, but between her dislike of life at Bell Orchard, and her growing uneasiness at the dangerous situation in which they all found themselves, and in which they would remain until the elusive Rob Dunton could be found, she was finding it increasingly difficult to remain calm. News from London was scanty and discouraging, for there was no sign yet of Dunton walking into the trap which had been set for him, and neither the Colonel nor Miles could glean any news of him. From the night of Mr. Tarrant’s death, the Jacobite agent had disappeared completely.

  The fine weather continued for the rest of that week and throughout the next, and each day, with the exception of Sunday, Charmian went riding with her friends from Wychwood Chase. Mrs. Fenshawe’s uneasiness was increased by the fact that only twice did Dorothy appear at Bell Orchard with a middle-aged groom as escort instead of her brother, and she would have been even more disturbed had she been present during their excursions. As the days passed, Dorothy, curbing her natural vivacity, forced herself to take less and less part in the conversation and to assume the role of passive and unobtrusive onlooker. She formed the habit of riding a little way ahead of her companions, or falling behind them, and noted with satisfaction that the intervals when they were unaware of her defection grew longer and more frequent each day.

  To Charmian herself it seemed as though she were living in two different worlds, the safe, sane, happy one she shared with Dorothy and Piers, and the other, of taut nerves, secrets and suspicion, which was Bell Orchard. She felt sometimes as though she could endure no longer the tension of life in the old house: Lavinia’s petulance, Harry’s sullen indifference and flashes of rage, her own ever-present doubts and fears. At such times her one consolation lay in the thought of Piers Wychwood; he was her friend, her only ally; as long as he was within reach, she need not completely despair.

  At last, Lavinia’s disquiet prompted her to enlist Harry’s aid in the matter. She had never been on particularly good terms with her elder stepson, and for more than a year a sort of armed truce had prevailed between them, so that she had been extremely reluctant to ask his help. One day, however, when she had just watched Charmian ride away from the house with Piers and Dorothy, she heard Harry’s step in the hall. Jumping up from her chair, she hurried across and flung open the parlour door.

  “Harry!” she said sharply. “I wish to speak to you, if you please.”

  He paused and scowled at her as though half-minded to refuse, then, as she turned back into the room, he came unwillingly to join her. Thrusting the door shut and leaning his shoulders against it, he said ungraciously:

  “Well, what is it?”

  “Do you need to ask?” Lavinia flung out a hand to point in the direction of the drive. “Did you not see Miss Tarrant ride out with Piers Wychwood and his sister?”

  “Of course I saw them,” Harry replied irritably, “and a curst long time they took about it I have been skulking above-stairs these ten minutes so that you should not have a brawl on your doorstep. Why the devil do you encourage him to come here so often?”

  “I encourage him?” she repeated, outraged. “Upon my soul, Harry, there are times when your insolence is beyond all bearing! For the past fortnight I have done all in my power to prevent any sort of intimacy growing up between the Wychwoods and Miss Tarrant.”

  “Have you, b’Gad?” he retorted mockingly. “Your efforts have not been precisely successful, have they? Why not just forbid her to go jaunting about the country while she is in mourning?”

  “I have done so,” she confessed sulkily, “but she will pay no heed to me. Then I threatened to tell them that her father killed himself, and she cut the ground from beneath my feet by telling them herself. It appears to have had no effect, though why such a hidebound, narrow-minded family should be willing to accept such a thing I cannot imagine.” She paused, and drew a deep breath, for she hated to admit failure to anyone, and especially to Harry. “I can do no more, since the girl is supposed to be a guest here, and not a prisoner. You must find a way to end her friendship with them.”

  “I?” He seemed genuinely astonished. “What in hell’s name can I do about it?”

  His stepmother glared at him, tapping one foot angrily upon the floor. “That is for you to decide,” she said unpleasantly. “If you had not been so wretchedly stubborn, you would have the right to forbid her to spend so much time in their company. I tell you, Harry, it will displease your father if he discovers that we have allowed Charmian to be upon such friendly terms with the Wychwoods, when Sir Piers is doing all he can to stir up trouble for us.”

  “Not for us, m’dear!” For these traitorous Jacobites who are bribing honest smugglers to ship them across the Channel Piers would never believe that we have any connexion with that. What, the idle Fenshawes involved in anything as serious as politics? He would find the mere idea absurd.”

  “How can you be sure of that? How do you know that he is not already suspicious, and hoping that Charmian may betray us? I cannot imagine why else he would be so assiduous in his attentions.”

  Harry grinned at her, his ill-temper abating as hers increased. “You are growing timid, Lavinia, and your fears blind you to the obvious. What the devil! Piers is flesh-and-blood, is he not, and Miss Tarrant a pretty girl, as well as being an heiress?”

  Lavinia frowned. “He cannot know that she is an heiress.”

  “All London knows it, m’dear, and Lady Wychwood has a sister in town. I’ll wager she wrote to Lady Corham as soon as she made Miss Tarrant’s acquaintance, and now is doing all in her power to further the affair. Local gossip has it that until two weeks ago Piers was on the point of offering for Selina Grey, and you cannot blame her ladyship for regarding Miss Tarrant as a Heaven-sent alternative.”

  Mrs. Fenshawe appeared to be slightly reassured by this, but said sharply: “Even that is bad enough! I have not endured the company of that tiresome creature all this while in order that her fortune may enrich Piers Wychwood, and I, for one, would not dare to face your father if we permitted such a thing to happen. He would never forgive us!”

  “Oh, be easy, m’dear!” Harry was obviously becoming bored with the argument. “Until Miss Tarrant is twenty-one, she cannot marry anyone without the consent of the trustees.”

  “And do you realize how soon that will be? Besides, there is no reason to suppose that they would refuse their consent if Wychwood asked it. No one can deny that he is extremely eligible.” She swung impatiently away and sat down on the window-seat, looking at him with mingled perplexity, and exasperation. “All this would have been avoided if you had done as your father desired. Now I trust you are satisfied with the trouble you have caused!”

  A frown darkened Harry’s face again, and he said curtly: “I made my intentions plain from the outset, Lavinia, and they are still the same, so you may as well stop plaguing me to marry the confounded girl!”

  “But why will you not, in Heaven’s name? All we desire is to see Charmian’s fortune safely in our pockets. It has not even been suggested that you should give up that low-bred mistress of yours, and I’ll warrant she would sooner have you rich than poor! Your marriage to Charmian could make no difference to her position.”

  Harry’s face whitened with anger, but he made an unwonted effort to keep his temper under control, and merely said with dangerous quietness:

  “I’ll have no meddling in my affairs from you, Lavinia! Your time would have been better employed these two years past in persuading Miss Tarrant to look more kindly upon Miles. He is eager enough, both for the girl and her gold!”

  “And her preference is very plainly for you—or was, until Piers Wychwood came on the scene.” In a sudden, uncontrollable spurt of temper she struck the cushione
d seat beside her with her clenched fist. “Oh, was there ever a more exasperating, improvident pair than you and your brother? Between you, you have ruined everything, and God knows where it will all end!”

  “Not in my marriage to Charmian Tarrant, I give you my word,” Harry informed her shortly, preparing to leave, “and if you will listen to a word of advice, do not make too great an issue of her friendship with the Wychwoods. The association may displease my father, but it will displease him a great deal more if you arouse Piers’ suspicions by trying too hard to keep him and Miss Tarrant apart He is no fool, and he knows as well as we do that there is no reason in the world why they should not be on friendly terms.”

  “I shall write to your father,” Lavinia announced abruptly. “He must decide how to deal with this matter. And,” she added spitefully, “I shall tell him how little help you have given me in this difficulty.”

  “Tell him what you please,” Harry said curtly. “I was not sent here to keep watch over Miss Tarrant. My task is to deal with Rob Dunton if he comes here, and you may be sure I shall accomplish it more efficiently than you have carried out your part in the affair. What is more, I shall ask no one’s help in doing it!”

  7

  The Cottage by the River

  The following day dawned as fine and warm as those which had preceded it, and at the accustomed hour Dorothy and Piers arrived at Bell Orchard. Once again Mrs. Fenshawe watched Charmian ride off with them, but this time she was able to console herself with the thought of the letter already despatched to London by the hand of a trusted servant. It would inform Colonel Fenshawe of this unforeseen turn of events, and probably bring him to Sussex to deal with it.