‘You have nephews and nieces, I collect, Miss Cecilia?’ the vicar asked, looking on benignly.
‘More than a dozen of them, sir,’ she answered. ‘Bianca is closer in age to the older ones than she is to our eldest sisters, of course. We are a large family, though there are, I know, many larger.’
His temperature was cooling a little, and he was grateful for it. It was not possible to contemplate throwing a young lady down on the nearest convenient surface – which would be one of his own old ivy-covered family tombs, he noted distractedly – and making passionate love to her, when she was standing talking sedately to the vicar about the composition of her family. Notreallypossible.
The congregation was dispersing, and he saw that Miss Macintyre was setting about re-attaching the horse to the dog cart; he went to help her, and she grunted her thanks.
When they had done, she stood looking at him measuringly. ‘I understand your Christian name is Alistair, Major,’ she said. ‘I have not found that to be a very common English name. Do you have Scottish connections?’
‘Yes. My mother’s father was a Mr Murray. He was originally from Edinburgh, and a writer to the signet, I believe; I never knew him, but I am named for him.’
‘Perhaps we are distantly related, then; I have Murray cousins, also in Edinburgh.’ The lady hesitated for a second, and then with the air of one whose desire to speak her mind and relieve her feelings was stronger than any sense of caution, she went on, ‘Well, I am sure Scotland must be as full of untrustworthy people as any other nation, and yet I shall tell you this, with no particularly rational reason for saying it to you. But after all, who else can I confide in? I have met these Pallants, who I understand are your close neighbours, and I do not like any of them, the older brother least of all. My charges are spending tomorrow afternoon picnicking with them at the ruined castle; we encountered them as if by chance in Debenbridge after the auction, he inveigled himself into our acquaintance as smoothly as I have ever seen it done, and the invitation was extended. Cecilia really had no way of refusing it without gross rudeness.’
She saw his expression, which must be excessively forbidding, and now said with a wry little grimace, ‘And now you are about to tell me that he is your closest friend from boyhood, you are blood brothers or some such nonsense, and that I am a dreadfully spiteful old woman to slur his unsullied good name. You would think I’d have learned to guard my tongue better by now.’
‘Oh, no, I’m not going to say any such thing, ma’am. On the contrary, I am glad you’ve spoken. Oliver Pallant is no friend of mine. I know little about the sister – I was sent off to the army as a cornet when I was sixteen, so I have not had much occasion to encounter her – and the younger boy seems of no particular account. I’d call him half-flash and half-foolish, like many a young officer I have commanded; I daresay a pair of colours and some military discipline would have done him good, and might still. But I entirely share your distrust of Pallant. Even setting aside any consideration of his character… Their patrimony is all but lost, though no fault of his, but he’s said to have enormous debts and to have made a bad situation much worse through reckless spending; for example, he has bought horses only a very wealthy man could afford. Your charges are heiresses, and he has made sure to force acquaintance on them with all possible speed. I do not need to go further, I think.’
She sighed and said, ‘I’m not expectingyouto do anything about it, and I don’t suppose that any great damage can be done on a simple expedition of pleasure. It is the fact that we are obliged to know them at all that I instinctively object to – him in particular. Perhaps I was hoping that you’d tell me I was being fanciful, since you have the air of a practical man, not prone to exaggeration. But now I feel worse, having my suspicions to some degree confirmed.’
‘I’m flattered by your good opinion, but it can hardly be justified. I could be a gazetted fortune hunter myself, determined to put a spoke in the wheel of my only potential rivals in this part of the world. One could say I inveigled myself into Miss Cecilia’s acquaintance at the auction. You saw me do it, if it comes to that.’
‘It’s quite true, I did, and one could,’ she replied promptly. ‘But then, would you say as much to my face, unless you were an utterly shameless lothario, which you give no other sign of being? Maybe I’m a foolish old woman, but what I dislike above all things is a man who issmooth. Such a person always sets my teeth on edge.’
‘And I’m not, and don’t? No, don’t trouble to answer that, ma’am. I wasn’t fishing for compliments.’
There was no more time for confidences; the rest of the Constantine party had arrived, and the four ladies must be handed up into their seats. This involved taking each of their hands in turn; only one of them squeezed his hand significantly as he did so, and it was not Miss Macintyre.
29
By the time the Constantine family had returned from church and eaten the light nuncheon of fruit and cheese that Mrs Pritty had laid out for them, the tide was well out and a tempting expanse of sand lay exposed. Cecilia was physically and mentally restless, and said so. They agreed to change into their more ordinary clothes and practical footwear, then set out for a walk together while Miss Macintyre napped. Chatting idly, stopping to pick up interesting shells and stones, the three sisters crossed the whole extent of the bay, only retreating to the lanes by the village when they began to fear that the returning waters might overwhelm them. They’d bought a basket, and picked fresh green ramsons on their way back along the hedgerows; no doubt the housekeeper would have many ingenious ways to make use of them. London, and the Season that would be in full swing by now, seemed very distant, and none of them missed it.
‘It’s so strange to think that great armies from many nations are manoeuvring not so very far away across the sea,’ Bianca said, looking out at the deceptively peaceful expanse of water. ‘Perhaps the navy are patrolling too, just out of our sight, in case of sudden disaster and invasion. We’ve almost forgotten about it all since we’ve been here, and yet in Town, I’m sure no one can talk of anything else. A decisive battle might already have happened, and we should not hear of it for several days at least. I wonder if Major Bartrum has particular intelligence of the progress of the conflict? I should have thought to ask him.’
‘I daresay he would not tell you if you did,’ Bea said, not looking at Cecilia. ‘He seems quite close-mouthed and reserved, what little I saw of him in company today, though he was chatting easily enough with Miss Macintyre later on. And none of us can tell, of course, precisely how he feels at being invalided out, and unable to take part in world events as once he would have done. It can’t be easy for him.’
Cecilia thought it prudent not to return any sort of reply to this comment, and instead turned the subject to something less dangerous. Bea was right, of course – she might have had a wild encounter with Major Bartrum just last night, she might be hoping for another very soon, but still she could not claim to know him. She had an idea of some of his secrets, perhaps – he had spoken briefly of his former fiancée, and she had seen a glimpse of the bitter self-loathing that appeared to possess him in the wake of her rejection. But she knew nothing more of his past, nor of what he might hope for in his future.
She did not think that he resented her and her sisters any more, now that she had convinced him of their ignorance of Mrs Albery’s very existence until so recently. She also did not believe that he was a fortune hunter bent on charming her (or anyone else) for nefarious purposes, which was not something she could say with confidence about Lord Pallant or his brother, or even, perhaps, his sister. But she could easily be quite wrong in all her impressions of Alistair Bartrum. She could be sure of nothing except the undeniable physical attraction that had sprung to life so suddenly and powerfully between them. This could and should lead nowhere except to a little pleasure, for both of them, a little new experience for her, and perhaps, for him, a precious sense that he had been mistaken in thinking no woman could ever look on him kindly again. All these must be good things, she thought, and sufficient in themselves.
She wondered if the Major would be waiting for her out on the beach tonight, if she chose to go out and meet him in the moonlight. In truth, she was almost certain that he would.
30
Alistair found himself standing patiently by the steps down from Miss Constantine’s garden as soon as it grew dark. It had occurred to him with somewhat belated caution that anyone who had happened to be out on the sands last night might easily have seen his encounter with Cecilia, not least because the tree trunk upon which it had taken place was bleached white by the water and the weather, and might have been designed specifically to draw attention to two persons in dark clothing doing something illicit upon it. He could only hope that they had not been observed; he comforted himself with the thought that he rarely saw anyone on his frequent night-time walks, and then only if he happened to be close to the village. Tonight, if she came out to him, they would have to be more careful.
He hoped she would.
She must have had the same idea. He’d not been waiting long when he heard her voice above him, saying softly, ‘It’ll be safer closer to the house where we cannot be overlooked; there’s a summerhouse just here. Will you not join me?’
He hadn’t heard the least suggestion of her footsteps, though he’d been straining for any sign of her approach, and he was careful as he could be to tread lightly while climbing the treacherous steps, clutching the handrail for stability all the way and cursing his own weakness. But this disagreeable thought soon melted away, because she was there at the top, and drew him over the grass into the shadows under the trees. There was a little rustic building nestled there, smelling of new wood and paint; they entered it together and she closed the door behind them.
‘I can’t risk a candle or a lamp,’ she told him. ‘We will have to manage by the light of the moon through the windows.’
‘I must confess that I would like to see you, because you are so beautiful,’ he said steadily, his words loaded with sincerity. ‘I understand that you have no reason to feel the same. But I do not mind too much; I do not mind anything in the world, if you will only let me touch you, and give you the pleasure you are right to say I owe you. That is so much more than I could have dared to dream of just a day or two ago.’
‘What in the name of heaven do I need to do to convince you that you are not unpleasant to look upon?’ she said with some heat. ‘Your former fiancée was a ninny, and I shall make sure you forget her, and all the stupid, untrue things she said to you, or even thought and let you see. Must I kiss you again? I think I must.’
There was a wide bench at the back of the little hut, and she pushed him down upon it, one imperious hand upon his chest. He could have resisted, of course – she could scarcely have shoved hard enough with one hand to destabilise even him; she was not a strongwoman in a circus – but he had no notion of denying her anything. The seat had been thoughtfully provided with cushions, and he sank into them.
