‘She will not, for I have not the least intention of telling her that you did.’
‘That won’t work. She’s bound to visit us and see it.’
‘And you to tell her where it originally came from, if she doesn’t mention it first?’ He could not help but be aware that these two conversations were the longest he’d had with a young lady since Charlotte had broken off their engagement. Was this flirting – it felt as though it might be – or just simple civility? He wasn’t sure he could tell any more. But he’d have known once; once, he would have enjoyed it. He wasn’t fit for female company. He should leave.
‘I do possess some restraint,’ she said pertly. ‘As I believe I demonstrated adequately the last time we met. Good day, Major.’ And she was gone, head held high and proud, no doubt delighted to have had the last word. Again.
Wilf had moved away tactfully while they’d been speaking, though not – as soon became apparent – out of earshot. Clearly, he hadn’t wanted to be introduced to the ladies; clearly, he had still been unashamedly curious to hear what would be said.
‘I hear there’s three of them,’ he offered, smiling in an irritatingly knowing manner. ‘Nobody can talk of anything else. Was that the youngest?’
‘The middle one, I think, or maybe the oldest. I haven’t seen all of them, so I really can’t say.’
‘Well, they’ll properly set the cat among the pigeons in these parts, won’t they, Major, if they’re all like that?’
Alistair thought it most prudent not to answer. But that didn’t mean he disagreed. On the contrary, he feared it was all too true.
19
Meanwhile, Beatrice, who had spent a great deal of time in the house over the last few days, had declared that she was tired of being cooped up, and would go for a walk by herself across the bay that morning, Bianca being engaged in her favourite hobby of sketching. Mrs Pritty had explained the operation of the tides to all the sisters, and so Miss Constantine felt safe enough; she could see for herself that the water had recently reached its highest point, and was ebbing away, so she had several hours of safety ahead of her. If she took longer than she intended, she could always return by the longer way through the lanes. It was hardly possible to get lost, with the sea always present as a guide.
She was beginning to get a sense of the district now. The Hall was isolated, with only a few cottages, in one of which their new gardener lived, close by on this side of the water. Mrs Drinkwater and her husband and children resided in the Vicarage, which was next to the church just before the village, over by the mouth of the river. Lady Synett’s grand home was inland, off the Debenbridge road, several miles away and well out of sight. Mrs Bartrum and her soldier son lived in a fine square building from the previous century, like a child’s drawing of a perfectly symmetrical house, perched on a little rise just beyond the village. And the Pallants were rather further away, on the far side of the bay, in the Manor, which was surrounded by trees and not easily visible from the shore. This residence, the housekeeper had told her, was by far the oldest in the immediate area, and they were the longest-established family, going back many hundreds of years.
‘They used to own almost all the land over that side, running far inland,’ she’d said, her voice vibrating with disapproval, ‘or their forefathers did in olden times. But a hundred years or so ago, one of them was seized with a terrible passion for gambling and dissipation, up in London, and wasted all his inheritance, so it was all sold off, piece by piece. They are greatly reduced from what they were, not that you’d suspect it, from their manner. This house belonged to them once – did you know that?’
Bea shook her head, fascinated.
‘It came to them by marriage – they were always clever that way, being so handsome – but they were obliged to sell it to Mr Albery when he offered them a fair price. Fifty years ago, that’d be. Lord Pallant would always make a joke of it to Mrs Albery, saying, “Marry me, Augusta! You’ll die happy and I’ll come back into my right inheritance again.” A jest in poor taste, as you’d expect from a man like him, but she did have a fancy for a handsome rogue with a gleam in his eye, like many a woman before her, young or old, and wouldn’t hear sense about him from anybody.’
Miss Constantine headed out briskly across the gleaming sand now, breathing in the sea air and relishing the freedom. She had no love of London walking, of the dirty, crowded streets, the fashionably futile strut in the parks, and the necessity always to be chaperoned and never alone, even at her advanced age, but this was different. No wonder Miss Pallant seemed to enjoy it so much.
She’d wondered if the river, even at low tide, presented an insuperable barrier as it made its way out to sea, but Mrs Pritty had told her that it did not form one deep channel but dissipated itself swiftly into many smaller ones, which could easily be crossed with a little care, and so it proved. She negotiated the last few of them, laid out on the sand like so many silver ribbons, and turned to survey the scene, looking back towards the house, which she had never seen from a distance before. It looked rather well, she thought, sitting a little raised above the strand, its tiled roofs and twisted Tudor chimneypots nestled in trees but not obscured by them. From here, she could see the whole wide sweep, from sea to low headland, past the Hall and round to the village, where fishing boats were drawn up in rows, waiting for the tide to lift them again. Inland were low, gently rounded hills, green with spring growth. She wished she had some talent for watercolour like Bianca, to be able to capture it in all its bright colour and harmonious composition.
Perhaps she floated off into a daydream and lost track of time; she must have done so.
‘Does it feel like home yet?’ a familiar voice said warmly behind her, making her start in surprise.
‘Miss Pallant!’ Bea was disagreeably aware that this was almost a gasp.
That lovely laugh, like silver bells chiming. ‘Did I make you jump? I’m sorry. I thought you must have been aware of my approach. My brother Oliver tells me I sound like a herd of cattle and can be heard a half-mile off.’
‘That can’t be true. I was lost in thought, perhaps, but if you had made any sound at all, I’m certain I must have heard you. Yes, to answer your question. We begin to find ourselves very comfortable and content here.’
‘I wonder you don’t miss all the excitement and bustle of London.’ Miss Pallant had come to stand beside her, a little closer than another person whose acquaintance was so brief might have settled upon. Bea noticed it, but did not move away. That would be rude; for certain, the young lady meant no harm.
‘I have endured seven Seasons – or is it eight? At any rate, too many. I suppose the shops and place of entertainment are convenient, but as for society… no, I do not miss it in the least. If I never go to another ball or assembly, I shall not regret it.’
‘My case is quite otherwise. I have never been to a proper ball, only to a dreary local assembly or two,’ her companion said flatly. ‘I have not had a Season and never shall. Our means do not permit it – or, at any rate, do not permit it in a style that Lord Pallant would consider suitable for what he considers to be our consequence. He will either do a thing superbly, or not at all; it is his nature.’
‘I’m sorry,’ said Beatrice inadequately. This was an extraordinary confidence to be giving to a stranger, she thought.
‘Don’t be. I know I would have enjoyed the experience – anything to vary the tedium of life here – but the whole purpose of the Season is marriage, is it not? So I cannot regret the lost opportunity.’
‘You do not wish to marry?’ Bea found that she was suddenly a little short of breath.
Vivienne smiled enigmatically and made no direct answer. ‘Doyounot? You must have had offers, in your seven or eight Seasons.’
‘Why must I? I had no portion to speak of, until now, just a few hundred pounds, as we all had. I have never been a catch.’
