bed. Gradually he began to relax. He was a prime catch and Mannerling was the prize. Who could turn down Mannerling?
At last, feeling he had not really done anything wrong, he sauntered down to the drawing room. His mother and father were grim-faced. ‘The Habards have left,’ said his mother. ‘What are we to do with you, Harry? There is no question now of a betrothal. Did you have to paw that girl and frighten her to death?’
‘You had better rejoin your regiment,’ said his father.
Harry walked to the window and looked out across the lawns and flowers to the ornamental lake. He would never leave.
‘Forget it,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I’m not going back. And I’ve already written to my colonel to tell him so.’
‘I think this place has a curse on it,’ wailed his mother.
Harry went back to the brandy bottle.
Lady Beverley was waiting for Robert and Jessica in the garden when they returned. Jessica was talking animatedly about Miss Trumble’s efforts to teach them Greek and Latin; her hair was still tousled and her gown displayed, thought Lady Beverley, an unseemly amount of ankle.
‘Jessica,’ she said sharply, ‘go indoors this minute and change into a more respectable gown and comb your hair. Mr Sommerville, pray join me. Tea? Wine?’
‘Neither, I thank you.’ He sat down beside her. She was alone; Miss Trumble and the girls were in the house.
‘And how go things at Mannerling?’ Lady Beverley leaned back in her chair and turned her pale face up to the sun.
‘Great excitement today. Harry is to propose to Miss Habard.’
She looked for a moment as if he had struck her and then she said faintly, ‘So all is lost.’ She had hoped against hope that the gossip should prove to be wrong.
He pretended not to have heard. ‘Your daughters appear extremely happy here.’
She rallied with an obvious effort. ‘I suppose so. They are young and forget easily.’
He was not a man usually given to impulse, but he found himself saying, ‘I should consider myself highly honoured if you and your family would be my guests at Tarrant Hall.’
‘What is Tarrant Hall?’
‘My home.’
‘I do not know . . . You are extremely kind. Ah, here is the excellent Miss Trumble.’
‘I have just suggested to Lady Beverley,’ said Robert, ‘that she and her daughters and you, of course, Miss Trumble, might care to visit my home.’
‘An excellent idea,’ said Miss Trumble, and then added diplomatically, ‘Of course it is up to Lady Beverley to decide whether we go or not.’
‘I do not think so,’ said Lady Beverley, her brain scrambling this way and that to find any little hope of reclaiming Mannerling. How could she find that hope if they went away?
Barry Wort appeared and said to Miss Trumble, ‘A moment of your time, madam. Cook seeks your advice.’
Only Miss Trumble knew that it was very strange for Barry to interrupt a conversation with a guest for any reason. She rose to her feet and went off with him.
‘What is it, Barry?’ she asked when they were out of earshot.
‘I am friendly with one of the stable lads at Mannerling. I am afraid he is a sad gossip. He rode over from Mannerling a few moments ago, alive with news. Mr Harry has been spurned by Miss Habard.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘They must not learn of this. Mr Sommerville invited them to stay at his home and I thought it would be marvellous to get them all away from here, and now it is more important than ever that I do. A rejected Harry Devers might come calling. But Lady Beverley will not be moved.’
‘If I may make a suggestion, ma’am?’
Despite her worry, Miss Trumble smiled. ‘Do tell me, Barry, for I am at my wits’ end.’
‘You might suggest to my lady that a stay at Mr Sommerville’s would save considerably on bills. It don’t be my place to say so, but my lady do be cautious with the pennies.’
‘You are a genius!’ exclaimed Miss Trumble. ‘Oh, I must step into the kitchen
At last, feeling he had not really done anything wrong, he sauntered down to the drawing room. His mother and father were grim-faced. ‘The Habards have left,’ said his mother. ‘What are we to do with you, Harry? There is no question now of a betrothal. Did you have to paw that girl and frighten her to death?’
‘You had better rejoin your regiment,’ said his father.
Harry walked to the window and looked out across the lawns and flowers to the ornamental lake. He would never leave.
‘Forget it,’ he said over his shoulder. ‘I’m not going back. And I’ve already written to my colonel to tell him so.’
‘I think this place has a curse on it,’ wailed his mother.
Harry went back to the brandy bottle.
Lady Beverley was waiting for Robert and Jessica in the garden when they returned. Jessica was talking animatedly about Miss Trumble’s efforts to teach them Greek and Latin; her hair was still tousled and her gown displayed, thought Lady Beverley, an unseemly amount of ankle.
‘Jessica,’ she said sharply, ‘go indoors this minute and change into a more respectable gown and comb your hair. Mr Sommerville, pray join me. Tea? Wine?’
‘Neither, I thank you.’ He sat down beside her. She was alone; Miss Trumble and the girls were in the house.
‘And how go things at Mannerling?’ Lady Beverley leaned back in her chair and turned her pale face up to the sun.
‘Great excitement today. Harry is to propose to Miss Habard.’
She looked for a moment as if he had struck her and then she said faintly, ‘So all is lost.’ She had hoped against hope that the gossip should prove to be wrong.
He pretended not to have heard. ‘Your daughters appear extremely happy here.’
She rallied with an obvious effort. ‘I suppose so. They are young and forget easily.’
He was not a man usually given to impulse, but he found himself saying, ‘I should consider myself highly honoured if you and your family would be my guests at Tarrant Hall.’
‘What is Tarrant Hall?’
‘My home.’
‘I do not know . . . You are extremely kind. Ah, here is the excellent Miss Trumble.’
‘I have just suggested to Lady Beverley,’ said Robert, ‘that she and her daughters and you, of course, Miss Trumble, might care to visit my home.’
‘An excellent idea,’ said Miss Trumble, and then added diplomatically, ‘Of course it is up to Lady Beverley to decide whether we go or not.’
‘I do not think so,’ said Lady Beverley, her brain scrambling this way and that to find any little hope of reclaiming Mannerling. How could she find that hope if they went away?
Barry Wort appeared and said to Miss Trumble, ‘A moment of your time, madam. Cook seeks your advice.’
Only Miss Trumble knew that it was very strange for Barry to interrupt a conversation with a guest for any reason. She rose to her feet and went off with him.
‘What is it, Barry?’ she asked when they were out of earshot.
‘I am friendly with one of the stable lads at Mannerling. I am afraid he is a sad gossip. He rode over from Mannerling a few moments ago, alive with news. Mr Harry has been spurned by Miss Habard.’
‘Oh, dear,’ said Miss Trumble. ‘They must not learn of this. Mr Sommerville invited them to stay at his home and I thought it would be marvellous to get them all away from here, and now it is more important than ever that I do. A rejected Harry Devers might come calling. But Lady Beverley will not be moved.’
‘If I may make a suggestion, ma’am?’
Despite her worry, Miss Trumble smiled. ‘Do tell me, Barry, for I am at my wits’ end.’
‘You might suggest to my lady that a stay at Mr Sommerville’s would save considerably on bills. It don’t be my place to say so, but my lady do be cautious with the pennies.’
‘You are a genius!’ exclaimed Miss Trumble. ‘Oh, I must step into the kitchen
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