“You cheated,” Lord Amberley called from the opposite bank as Lord Eden was handing Ellen back across the stepping-stones. “You did not climb after all. Susan and I were at least honest about our laziness, were we not, my dear?”
“Ah, but we put our lives in peril by venturing across these stones,” Lord Eden said cheerfully. “We did not cower on this side, did we, Ellen?”
“We also risked the danger of being run over by those exuberant children if they had chosen to come back down,” Ellen said. “Here they come now. Oh, dear, is that Jennifer shrieking? Or is it Anna? What hoydens! This is very good for Jennifer, my lord, though I fear it is sending her back into childhood. I am very grateful to you for inviting us here.”
The earl glanced from her to his brother and back again. “I dare to hope that it is good for both of you, ma’am,” he said, turning to lift Susan back into the saddle. “You are looking well. Is that my wife actually running down the slope? Perhaps it is a blessing that I do not have a quizzing glass about me. May I lift you up too?”
“If you will just give me a boost, my lord,” Ellen said, “I can mount myself.”
“No you won’t!” Lord Eden took the two strides that separated them. “I will lift you, Ellen.”
Lord Amberley looked in mingled amusement and curiosity at his brother and turned to grin at his wife, who was part of the group crossing noisily over the stepping-stones.
THE EARL AND COUNTESS invited anyone who was interested to join them in a walk on the beach during the afternoon, but they did warn that the outing was intended for the children and would be focused on them.
The dowager countess suggested a drive into the village of Abbotsford-after they had all rested from the exertions of the morning, that was. She had looked with particular significance at Ellen. The shops did not have a great deal to offer, she explained, but it was a pretty place. And they might call upon the Misses Stanhope, who would be delighted to make their acquaintance, or on the rector’s wife, if they could extricate her from her rapidly growing brood of hopeful children.
Ellen and Jennifer agreed to the drive.
Allan Penworth too was to rest after luncheon. Madeline walked upstairs with him, careful not to offer him any assistance at all.
“It is a beautiful day,” she said. “You will probably enjoy sitting in the churchyard or outside the inn while the rest of us look in the shops. You will like the village.”
“I intend to spend the afternoon outside painting,” he said. “I had a long talk with your mother this morning, and she has lent me all the necessary equipment.”
“Oh, good,” she said. “Where are we going to go? Onto the terrace?”
“
“You will need someone to carry your easel and your brushes and things,” she said. “I will be quite delighted to help you, Allan. I can visit the village anytime.”
“There are such people as servants,” he said. “All I need to do is ask for help. It is a very simple matter.”
“But I want to stay,” she said. “I miss those days, Allan, when we were always alone together. Let’s do something together this afternoon.”
“A few minutes ago,” he said, “you were full of enthusiasm for showing off your village to Mrs. Simpson. You don’t need to give up that pleasure for me, Madeline. I will be quite happy painting alone. I prefer to be alone when I paint. I can concentrate better.”
They came to a stop outside his room.
“You really don’t want me with you, do you?” she said. “I am getting on your nerves, Allan?”
He looked exasperated. “No, you don’t get on my nerves,” he said. “Have I said the wrong thing again? I have, haven’t I? I have hurt you again. I don’t seem to be able to help doing so these days, though I never mean to do it. Stay with me, then, Madeline, if it is what you really wish to do. I would like that.”
“I think we should end our betrothal,” she said in a rush, her voice not quite steady. She looked about her hastily to make sure that the corridor was deserted.
“What?” he looked at her, incredulous. “Have I hurt you that badly? I must be a far worse brute than I thought. I merely wanted you to have a pleasant afternoon, free of the necessity of fetching and carrying for me. Come, Madeline, don’t overreact. Smile at me and say you forgive me.”
“It is not just today,” she said. “And it is not your fault. Perhaps this was inevitable, Allan. You are recovering and regaining your independence. You don’t need me any longer.”
“Yes, I do,” he said, reaching out for her hand, which she kept clasped in the other one in front of her. “I wouldn’t be alive now if it were not for you. Do you think I can ever forget that?”
“I’m not blaming you,” she said. “You did need me, yes. You leaned on me for a long time. And I made the mistake of thinking that you would always need me like that. It was very naive of me. You don’t need me now, and I have to be happy for you that you don’t.”
He tried to laugh to relieve the tension. “Can we not just love each other?” he asked. “Does there have to be any need? Any dependence? Can we not just have a normal, happy marriage?”
She shook her head slowly. “I don’t think so,” she said. “I don’t think we love each other, Allan. Not in that way.”
“I love you,” he said. “You are very, very special to me. I owe you my life and my sanity.”
“I love you dearly too, Allan,” she said. “But I don’t think we could make a marriage of it. We are too different from each other. We would bicker and bicker and come to thoroughly dislike each other before we had been married a year. I don’t want that to happen. I am too fond of you.”
He shifted his weight on his crutches and blew out air from puffed cheeks. “I can’t quite believe I am having this conversation,” he said. “You always seemed so unattainable, you know. Lady Madeline Raine, whom everyone admired. I did not think you had even noticed me. And now I feel as if I am the one who has let you down. I have made you unhappy.”
“No, not you,” she said. “You really are not to blame for anything, Allan. I am only unhappy with myself. My life seems to have been one string of self-delusions. Yet this time I was so sure. Oh, never mind. We must be thankful that we have come to our senses before it is too late.”
“I will make arrangements to leave tomorrow, then,” he said.
“Oh, no!” She reached out a hand to touch his arm. “No, Allan. That would cause unbearable pain and embarrassment. Please stay. You like Mama and Edmund and Dominic, don’t you? And you are painting and playing the pianoforte. You are gaining more independence here. Stay awhile.”
“I don’t want to cause you any unpleasantness,” he said, frowning. “If you want, I will stay for a few days longer, then. I’m sorry about this, Madeline. More sorry than I can say.”
“Well,” she said, smiling, “at least we have been able to put an end to a betrothal without hurling things at each other’s heads. We are still friends, are we not?”
“You will always be my friend,” he said. “I will always love you, Madeline.”
“Like a sister,” she said. “It will be better that way. You are in some pain, standing there, Allan. Go inside your room now and lie down for an hour. And do it. Don’t pace the floor brooding on what has just happened.”
“Yes, ma’am,” he said, raising one hand in a smart salute and smiling at her rather ruefully.
Chapter 21
RAIN STARTED AT SOME TIME DURING THE night and continued to fall for the following two days. A most miserable sight, Madeline declared to anyone who was prepared to sympathize, when one had been imprisoned in a city for months on end and now had boundless energy to work off. She promised Ellen and Jennifer that on the next fine day they would ride down onto the beach and perhaps even climb the steep path up to the clifftop.
“That way you can see both places during the same outing,” she said. “That is, if the rain ever stops and the mist ever lifts.”
But for the time being the mist hung low over the valley and a fine rain came steadily down. Lord Eden took
