Hetty set the can down and came across to help Beth to stand. ‘I did warn you, miss, but you wouldn’t listen. You should have had a long hot bath and some of that embarkation rubbed into your muscles.’
Beth laughed. She stopped pretty sharply though, for it hurt. ‘Embrocation, Hetty.’
‘Whatever. You shouldn’t have gone riding for so long, miss, when you’re not used to it. No, not even at his lordship’s invitation. He should have known better, an’ all.’ Of late, Hetty had become extremely forthright with Beth who valued the maid too much to correct her ready tongue.
‘Besides, there ain’t no point in you learning to ride all over again, when you’ll be stopping just as quick. You can’t go riding out on your own, after all, can you? You’ll have had all this pain for no gain, as they say.’ Hetty swung Beth’s wrap over her shoulders and helped her into it.
Beth winced. She had forgotten that Jonathan would be leaving soon to go to one of his other estates. He had not said which one. He had several, he had explained, and all of them needed the master’s careful supervision. That was his duty as Earl.
He took his duties seriously, of course. But he had a lighter side, too, and she was glad to have discovered it. She wanted him to be a…a friend, the kind of person with whom she could share everyday pleasures like riding out with the sun on her back, or walking for miles across lush meadows and shady country paths. The kind of friend who would share her wit, who could tease her until she was doubled up with laughter, and who could subside into easy silence when they were both content to commune with nature and their own thoughts. One day, perhaps, they might come to be all those things together. She must not hope, or dream, of anything more.
She would miss him when he left, but friends parted. It was the way of the world.
‘The groom said as he’s leaving Fratcombe on Monday morning.’
‘Monday?’ Beth choked and began to cough, in an attempt to cover up her shock. Monday? That was the day after tomorrow. Was she to see him at church and then never again?
Hetty poured a glass of water and handed it to Beth, who gulped it greedily.
‘Well, Sam-that’s the groom, miss-said it would definitely be Monday. Unless his lordship changes his mind again.’
‘Again?’ Beth croaked.
‘Aye. Apparently he were all set to leave last week, but decided he wanted to stay on a bit. To enjoy the fine weather and the peace, Sam said.’
‘That sounds rather strange. Are you sure, Hetty?’
‘Oh, yes, miss. When he’s at his main estate, it’s just one long round of parties and entertainments, Sam says, with house guests all the time. Sam reckons it’s because his lordship’s mama is determined to get him married off again, so she fills the house with pretty girls. Can’t see it m’self. I’d say his lordship is too much his own man to be governed by his mama, or any other lady. Don’t you think so, Miss Beth?’
Beth swallowed the rest of her water and muttered something that could have been agreement. Hetty might be right about Jonathan’s character, but the maid did not understand the demands of his position in society. He had been a widower for a considerable time. He had no son. He would not need his mother’s urging to understand that it was high time he married again and set up his nursery. No doubt he was returning to King’s Portbury, to look over yet more candidates to be his new countess.
So much for friendship, and simple shared pleasures.
Chapter Seven
Fratcombe Manor had been a peaceful refuge but Lorrington was utter bliss. Jon had forgotten how wild and remote it was here. George had never visited, probably because the Lorrington estate was too poor to provide him with any ready money. And the place was blessedly free of women, too, for there were no gentry families for miles. Jon was spared the plaguey females that always bedevilled him at King’s Portbury.
After two weeks of riding the land and speaking to all his tenants, Jon was ashamed of what he had allowed to happen here. It was his smallest estate, to be sure, but he had failed in his duty to those who depended on him. Their farms were ramshackle and their livestock was scrawny, barely surviving on the thin hill land. There was some good land, but it was not productive, for the farmers had no money for seed or new tools. He would change all that. Some of the surplus from King’s Portbury would be invested here. Lorrington would never be rich, but his people’s lives would be improved. He was determined on that.
Until now, he had paid them no heed. But Spain had changed him. War had changed him. Among his soldiers, there had been men from the land, good men who had taken the King’s shilling because their families could not afford to feed another mouth. He had seen those men fight, and he had seen some of them die. In the depths of the Spanish winter, he had seen what hunger could do to a man. He would not allow it to touch any of his lands. Never again.
It was a matter of honour, for those who had died. And a matter of duty.
He would discharge his duty here at Lorrington and then he would take a wife. He had delayed for long enough now. There must be no more excuses. Surely there was one lady of rank, somewhere, who was not simply out for herself, simpering and blushing in her efforts to snare a rich husband?
If such a one existed, he had not set eyes on her.
He sighed and reached forward to run his gloved hand over his horse’s glossy neck. As far as he could tell, debutantes were all the same. It was enough to give a man permanent indigestion. Why could none of them be like Beth Aubrey?
He swore aloud. She was intruding again! He kicked his horse into a gallop and began to race across the grass to the foot of the gorse-covered hill. He would make his way to the top for a final check of the Lorrington estate. He might see something he had missed, some out-of-the-way farmstead where the children were barefoot or unable to go to school. It was his duty-he was happy to accept that now-to ensure that all the children on his estates had a better chance in life.
That reminded him that he had promised Miss Beth he would do something for that young protege of hers. Peter, was it?
Yes, Peter. Jon would speak to his agent about the child as soon as he got back to Fratcombe. He did not want to see the disappointment in Beth’s fine eyes if she discovered that he had failed to live up to his promises. Why had she not challenged him on it before he left?
Because she trusted him to keep his word. She trusted him, and confided in him, as a friend.
He could not return that trust-he confided in no one-but he could rely on her word. He knew that, without a shadow of a doubt, because of the remarkable person she was.
He would rather spend an hour with her than whole weeks among the carp and cackle of the ladies of the
He hauled his horse to a stand and threw himself out of the saddle so that he could make the rest of the steep climb on foot. Beth was the only woman in England who came near to being the kind of wife he wanted, and needed. Yet she was a woman he could not have. Why was fate so determined to laugh in his face?
He plodded on. Somewhere in the back of his mind, a beautiful voice began to sing, softly at first, and then more clearly, so that the bitter fury of his thoughts was calmed. It was Beth Aubrey’s voice, as if from far away. And it consoled him.
Because he was the Earl of Portbury and his duty required him to marry a lady of rank. Duty. It had driven him for years, but what had it brought him, apart from hardship and heartache? Surely a man could be more than the sum of his duties? Jon was a man of rank and wealth. An earl. An earl did not need to play by the rules of lesser mortals. Nor did he have to pay heed to anyone else’s opinion. Not even his father’s. Not any more. An earl could decide for himself where his duty-and his own best interests-lay.
Jon’s decision was made. He would call at the rectory as soon as he was back at Fratcombe Manor.
Beth was glad when her solo ended and she could resume her place in the rectory pew. Glad, too, that Jonathan had not returned, to hear her sing and to wonder yet again if her memory loss was some kind of fraud.
