“Thank you.” Emmeline turned back to the mirror and could see how her friend’s intervention had very much improved the appearance of her hair. “Clara, do you mean that I should look elsewhere to marry?” Emmeline did not turn to look back at her friend but spoke at her own reflection, almost as if she were having the conversation with herself.
“I just think that you ought to remain open-minded on the subject. After all, you must look after yourself above all things.”
“I could not, really. I love Christopher with all my heart, and I know that he loves me too. Really, if he thought for a moment that I had wandered in my opinion of him and even looked elsewhere for somebody to marry me immediately, I am sure that he would be terribly hurt by it.”
“But he need not know, need he?”
“But I would know, Clara, and that would be bad enough. No, I am most sure of Christopher and his intentions towards me. We are going to be married as we always talked about, and my mother and sister will be secure. And not only will they be secure, but I will be happy. Christopher and I will be happy, Clara, I am quite sure of it.”
Chapter 3
“Why don’t we sit ourselves down in the drawing room, Hunter?” Algernon said, almost forcibly edging his cousin in that direction.
“Yes, I’ll ring for tea,” Hunter said, striding towards the bell rope at the side of the fireplace the moment they had entered the great drawing room.
“Let us not bother with tea, my dear fellow. What say you we have a brandy instead?” Algernon said with forced heartiness.
Hunter knew his cousin well and had immediately seen through his determinedly cheerful tone. Algernon Rochester never needed to give an air of cheer, for it was his ordinary and commonplace countenance. He was a light-hearted and good-humoured young man who saw the fun and distraction in almost everything. If he were finding it necessary to lay on a bit of extra hearty jocularity, then he surely had something most grave to convey.
As much as Hunter wanted to hear it, and hear it instantly, he also feared it. He was certain it had much to do with Lady Felicity Morgan, and there was a part of him which did not want to hear it at all. Whatever it was, it was bad, he knew that much. But it would only truly be bad at the moment that he heard it spoken aloud; all he had to do was put it off forever, then it could not happen.
“Is it not a little early for brandy, my dear cousin?” Hunter said automatically.
“It depends on your viewpoint. In my world, Hunter, it is never too early for brandy.” Algernon laughed and, once again, gave that air of forced jocularity.
Without waiting for his cousin’s full consent, Algernon Rochester made his way to the drinks cabinet and poured two extraordinarily large brandies. Hunter had taken a seat in one of the armchairs at the side of the fireplace, staring into the empty grate and wishing it was full winter instead of summer. Had it been winter, he could have concentrated upon the licking of the orange flames and the crackling of the heat-tortured logs. Instead, he simply stared at the iron grate and waited patiently for his life to unravel yet further still.
“Here, take this,” Algernon said as he handed his cousin the well-filled brandy glass.
“Thank you,” Hunter said and, despite his initial protestations, he drunk down half of the fiery liquid in his first gulp.
“I really was so terribly sorry to hear of your father’s passing, Hunter. I have always had, as I am sure you know, the highest regard for my uncle and have found myself greatly moved by his death.”
“I know it as surely as I know it of myself, Algernon. And my father looked upon you as another son, that much I know for certain.”
“The old Earl will be sorely missed, but I am confident that the new Earl will take on his duties without flinching.”
“You do me a great service with your words, Algernon. But then, you always did.” Hunter smiled and leaned back in his chair.
The drawing room had changed very little since his mother had died all those years ago. Her influence was still to be found everywhere around Addison Hall and her taste, even years later, was still much admired.
In the drawing room, of course, the dark oak wall panelling could hardly be escaped. It seemed as much a part of every country mansion as this stonework itself. But much had been made of the remaining walls, and the lemon coloured paintwork seemed as fresh on that day as it had seemed all those years ago when it had been newly done.
The couches and armchairs were all upholstered in either a thick dark cream blockade which depicted hunting scenes in red thread-work, or deep golden velvet, and Hunter had chosen his favoured brocade covered armchair on that day.
Algernon set his own drink down on a small oak side table before swinging his long coattails out to the side and sitting down on the armchair opposite his cousin. Algernon always seemed to fill whatever space he was in. He was well over six feet in height, an inch or two taller than Hunter himself. And whilst Hunter was certainly broad enough, Algernon was yet broader still. And yet, despite his large frame, there was a quality to Algernon’s face which made him more of an overgrown boy than a fully-grown man. At eight and twenty, he was but four years older than Hunter, and yet he could easily have passed for a man of five years younger still.
Hunter often thought that it was Algernon’s carefree approach to life which had rendered him so youthful in his looks. Perhaps he still bore glimpses of the boy he had once been because, in his heart, he had not changed a good deal and had never let the cares of adulthood weigh him down.
“Well, perhaps you ought to tell me everything you need to tell me now, Algernon,” Hunter said after taking a deep breath.
“And so, you have guessed there is something to tell?” Algernon said quietly.
“I knew there was something to tell the moment I saw you standing in my doorway, cousin. In truth, I had fully expected that the person who would be here to greet me would be Felicity. And yet I see that she is not here and can only conclude that you are here in her stead to give me news of her.”
“Indeed, I am here to give you news of Felicity,” Algernon said and bore the resigned look of a man on his way to the gallows. “And I am afraid that it is not good news.”
“At least tell me that she is well,” Hunter said and suddenly realized a sharp fear that something had happened to her.
Perhaps that was why her letters had grown fewer and farther between; perhaps she had been suffering from some sort of illness which had weakened her to such an extent that she had been unable to concentrate even upon so simple a thing as a letter. Hunter could hardly imagine why it was he had not thought of such a thing before.
“She is entirely unharmed, cousin. You may rest easy on that count.”
“On that count, if on no other,” Hunter said and raised his eyebrows.
“I daresay that the six months you were apart were long months for Felicity.” Algernon began somberly, and Hunter knew the worst was coming, and there was no stopping it now.