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‘I know,’ she replied, brought back to her first, most pressing concern. ‘But I’m not sure how.’
‘Having already met the young lad, I think I can with confidence advise you just to spend time with him and let him be himself. He can’t fail to delight you.’
Diana smiled faintly. ‘Alastair gave me the same advice.’
Mrs Ransleigh laughed. ‘That’s how he was beguiled by my rascal of a grandson! Robbie reminds me so much of Alastair. Watching your son grow is a joy you must experience. And now, you shall.’
Oh, how much she wanted to create for James the sort of loving home that had produced an Alastair! ‘Will you...help me?’
His mother’s face softened. ‘I don’t think you will need much help, once you are truly convinced you may love him openly without danger, but of course I will. By the way, the two of you may stay here as long as you wish. Treat Barton Abbey as the home we once hoped it would be.’
She’d hardly dared expect forgiveness from Mrs Ransleigh—and never imagined she would be treated with such generosity and compassion.
‘There are no words to express how much I appreciate your kindness, to me and to James. How can I repay you?’
‘Be happy, for Alastair.’
Be happy. Could she ever discover how to do that—to thaw out the frozen lump of emotions still trapped within, let go of fear and restraint, finally allow herself to feel again freely?
‘He still cares for you deeply. But you must not worry Alastair will try to push you into anything you do not want, once this is all over,’ her hostess added quickly. ‘Nor would I let him. You’ve been coerced quite enough.’
‘He’s already promised to respect my wishes, and I believe him.’
‘Good,’ Mrs Ransleigh said with a nod. ‘What do you wish for, once this is all over? If I may ask—I don’t wish to pry.’
‘I really don’t know,’ Diana admitted. ‘I lived a virtual prisoner for so many years, with no hope of escape, I ceased to imagine a life beyond the walls of the estate. I’m not even sure where to begin.’
‘You might start by taking up activities you used to enjoy. We’ve a fine library; make use of it. There’s a pianoforte at your disposal. Supplies for painting, sketching and needlework. You’re welcome to borrow my mare, Firefly, if you’d like to ride. Join me for tea, for dinner, cards and conversation after if you like, or dine alone, if you prefer.’
Gently she took hand Diana’s hand, and to her own surprise, Diana did not instinctively flinch away. ‘You’ve been hurt and battered for too many years. Give yourself time to heal. And don’t worry. Alastair will make sure no one harms you ever again.’
‘I know he will try.’
‘He will succeed,’ his mother said firmly. ‘Alone, my warrior son is a formidable force, but with Will by his side? Invincible! You will see.’
‘I certainly hope so.’
‘Never doubt it. You can relax and focus on your son—and regaining your life.’
Regaining her life... What would that life look like? Completely absorbed since her husband’s death with protecting James—and dealing with Alastair—she hadn’t begun to consider. Even now, it seemed somehow to be tempting fate to dare envisage anything beyond the end of Graveston’s looming menace.
After taking a final sip, Mrs Ransleigh set down her cup. ‘I enjoyed our chat, dear, but I must get to work.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
‘It’s a fine day, with the autumn flowers in the garden in brilliant hue. Perhaps you could gather some?’
Swift as a darting lark, a memory swooped back. Papa had delighted in having fresh greenery nearby as he worked, so she’d made a ritual of seeking the most unusual plants and flowers to arrange in every room.
A faint flicker of what she realised was anticipation stirred. ‘I could arrange cuttings for the house, if you like.’
‘I would like that.’
To Diana’s surprise, her hostess leaned over to give her a hug. ‘Life will be better. You’ll see. Why not take that young scamp into the garden with you? Teach him about the plants his grandfather loved. I also seem to remember the coachman mentioning that one of the dogs had pupped. I wager James would love to have a dog of his own.’
A walk through a brilliant autumn garden, blooms to gather and arrange—and time with her son. From within a tender warmth welled up, like the small brilliance of the first yellow crocus emerging from the snow.
‘Thank you, I’d like that.’ After hesitating a moment, she allowed herself to voice the other concern that had occupied her thoughts. ‘Has Alastair gone yet, do you know?’
‘Yes, he left at first light this morning.’
She felt a flash of disappointment, quickly squelched. Having settled everything last night, there was no reason he should have come to see her before he left.
As if privy to her thoughts, Mrs Ransleigh said, ‘He asked me to pass along his good wishes. He would have delivered them in person, but he didn’t want to disturb your sleep. More than anything, he wants you to rest—and heal.’
Diana nodded. ‘He’s been very good to me. As have you. Far better than I deserve, though I’m grateful for James’s sake to have found such strong champions.’ Foreboding about what that might cost Alastair swept through her.
‘You mustn’t worry about him,’ Mrs Ransleigh said, seeming to sense Diana’s concern. ‘It’s hard not to worry when you care for someone, as I know only too well. After Alastair’s break with you, he was in such despair, I feared he might throw his life away in some great battle.’
Feeling the words as a reproach, Diana said quietly, ‘I’m so sorry.’
‘No point repining,’ Mrs Ransleigh said. ‘You had good reason for your actions, as I now know. In any event, I was so relieved when he returned from the war unharmed! But the man who came back brought me new worries. Harder, more distant, and cynical about everyone but his immediate family, he seemed to think females served only one purpose—and not one he would discuss with his mama! I could understand at first why he kept that distance, not wishing to risk a heart once so severely wounded. But as time went on, my worry deepened, for neither his many mistresses nor the proper young ladies to whom Jane tried to introduce him—whom he scrupulously avoided, I might add—seemed able to touch him. I have to admit, when Jane told me he was seeing you, I hoped the experience might break through the wall he’d erected around his heart. It has certainly done that. Whatever happens next, for that, and for the sacrifice you made for him earlier, I will always be grateful.’
Along with teasing out threads from the skein of memory Diana had kept so tightly wound within, Mrs Ransleigh seemed to be able to evoke long-repressed emotions. Once more near tears, Diana said, ‘I never wished to harm him. I pray every night these new troubles will not.’
Mrs Ransleigh smiled. ‘Prayer is always valuable. I’d best get along now, before Mrs Andrews sends a maid looking for me. We dine early, but if you wish something before then, nuncheon is available. Just ring. Shall I see you at dinner, or would you prefer a tray?’
Having not been given that choice for years, Diana hesitated. She could visit the library, choose a book, sit over her dinner reading.
But she didn’t have to hurry off—she might choose a book at leisure, and read whenever she chose, for as long as she liked. The idea seemed strange—and wonderful.
But for the first time since she’d left her father and Alastair, Diana felt an inclination for company. To get to know better the remarkable woman who’d raised such a remarkable son—and forgiven her for hurting him. To learn all she could from her, to better raise her own son. ‘I’d like to join you, if you don’t mind.’
‘I should be delighted. I’ll look forward to those flower arrangements as well.’ Giving Diana’s hand another squeeze, she rose from the table. ‘Try to enjoy the day, my dear. I’ll see you at dinner.’
* * *
As her hostess walked out, Diana sipped her coffee. Enjoy the day. A whole day, for nothing but her pleasure.
The notion seemed almost impossible.
For all pleasures but one, she amended, remembering last night’s single kiss. Her body aflame, she’d regretted as keenly as Alastair the need for the celibacy now imposed upon them. She hadn’t expected to miss their intimacy quite so dreadfully.
Would Alastair wish to resume their relationship, once the confrontation with the Duke was over?
This last battle might be the end of the episode for him, the denouement that allowed him to finally close the chapter of his life labelled ‘Diana’. Distress, a tangled mix of anxiety and sadness, arose at that possibility.
She would have to accept that, of course. The Alastair she’d known, the Alastair she was coming to know again, would support the cause he believed in and fight to the end. If that end was scandal and disgrace, he would see her comfortably established before moving on.
