Never Laugh at Love Read online

  That had all been so comfortable and extravagant and unlike anything she had known before, but she knew now it was not the material comforts that had mattered.

  Everything had seemed gay and exciting simply because the Duke was there.

  ‘How blind of me not to realise it before,’ she told herself!

  She wondered how she could have failed to understand her feelings when her heart had leapt whenever she saw him, how it had been an enchantment to drive beside him and to hear his deep voice explaining so many points of interest she wanted to know.

  ‘He understood what I felt about Papa on the battlefield.’

  She had tried to hide her tears, but he had seen them.

  “You can feel, Anthea,” he had said. “That is very important – most women do not feel very deeply about anything.”

  ‘What did he mean,’ Anthea asked now, ‘by saying it was important? Important to whom?”

  She knew the answer to that.

  He was in love with Cousin Delphine and, although he might have found his honeymoon less tedious than he had anticipated, she was nothing in his life except the wife he did not want.

  “I – love him! Oh, God, I love – him!” Anthea cried despairingly into the darkness.

  The misery she was feeling was worse than anything she had experienced in her life before.

  It was an agony and a despair that made her wish that she had never gone to London and never met the Duke.

  How could she have guessed that love would be like this?

  It was not the blissful emotion her mother had talked about, but something agonizing that tortured her because she knew her love could never be requited and that because of it she would never laugh again.

  She wished now that she had let the Duke make her truly his wife, as he had wanted to do.

  If he had kissed her, if he had held her in his arms, whoever he might have been thinking of, it would have been better than to know that she would have no memories of love in the empty years that lay ahead.

  ‘If only he had – kissed me – just once,’ her heart cried.

  *

  It took Anthea the whole of the next day to reach Pershore in Worcestershire and from there she found a carrier’s cart to take her to Cumberton.

  It was a small village, just as her Nanny had often described it to her, with a dozen black and white thatched cottages standing around a village green.

  There was an ancient inn called The Pelican and a duck pond in which witches had endured trial by water in Mediaeval times.

  The carrier, who was conveying some barrels of ale to The Pelican, set her down and, seeing a small boy eyeing her with curiosity, Anthea asked him the way to Elderberry Cottage.

  “It be at the end of the village,” he answered.

  “Will you carry my valise for me?” Anthea asked. “I will give you twopence if you will do so.”

  The boy, whose name she learnt was Billy, was only too willing to oblige and they set off side by side.

  Anthea was aware that several faces had appeared at the cottage windows obviously surprised not only at her smart appearance, but also at the arrival of a stranger.

  “I expect you know Miss Tuckett,” Anthea said to Billy.

  “Aye, I knows ’er all right, but ’er be dead!”

  “Surely not?” Anthea exclaimed. “You must mean her sister, Mrs. Cosnet, who I knew was ill.”

  “They both be dead,” Billy insisted. “Missie Tuckett, ’er be buried two weeks ago come Thursday.”

  “I cannot believe it!” Anthea exclaimed in consternation.

  She had known that Nanny’s widowed sister was very ill when she had left Yorkshire to nurse her, but she had written several times to say she was better in health.

  Nanny had written to congratulate her on her approaching marriage and she had written back to thank her and say how much she wished she could be at the ceremony.

  But dead!

  When she fled from London, she had thought childlike that Nanny would always be there to look after her.

  It was an unhappiness she could hardly bear to know that Nanny was dead and she would never see her again.

  “What am I to do?” she asked helplessly of the small boy beside her.

  “Mrs. Weldon, ’er who lives next door, ‘as the key,” he volunteered.

  “Then I will go to the cottage,” Anthea decided.

  She was to learn in the next few days that the whole village had in fact been expecting her to arrive.

  “Your Nanny and a wonderful woman she was, wrote a letter to you,” the Vicar said, “saying that she was ill and telling you that if anything should happen to her the cottage and its contents were to be yours and your sisters.”

  He paused to add,

  “She was a little rambling, but I think I am right in saying that you are Miss Anthea and your sisters are Thais, Chloe and Phebe?”

  “You are quite right,” Anthea answered.

  She realised, as the Vicar went on talking, that Nanny had not mentioned the fact that she was to be married and he had no idea that she was not still Miss Forthingdale.

  She was relieved that she did not have to tell him her real name and surreptitiously, when he was not looking, she removed her wedding ring.

  “I am quite certain you would not wish to settle in Cumberton, Miss Forthingdale,” the Vicar was saying, “but it is a nice little cottage and, if you should wish to sell it, I am quite certain I can find a purchaser.”

  “Thank you, Vicar,” Anthea said, “but for the moment I will stay and tidy up Nanny’s things.”

  “That is right, Miss Forthingdale, do nothing in a hurry,” the Vicar smiled. “It is always wise to sleep on a decision, whatever it may be.”

  Anthea found, however, that there was little to tidy.

  Nanny had always been meticulously particular when she lived with them and her house was ‘as clean as a new pin’ as she would have said herself.

  Mrs. Weldon had looked after Nanny’s two cats, which as soon as they found that Anthea was staying at Elderberry Cottage returned to their home demanding food at least twice a day.

  This meant that Anthea had to cook, however depressed she might feel.

  She often thought that if she had been alone she would just have sat and moped and made no effort to feed herself.

  But Antony and Cleopatra, as she had named the cats, were very sure of what they required and had no compunction about complaining noisily if their meals were overdue.

  She stirred the pot now in which a large rabbit was cooking and thought they were more importunate than any husband might be.

  Even to think of the Duke was to feel a sharp stab of unhappiness within her and she wondered if she would ever be free of the heavy weight of misery that was like a stone within her breast.

  She wondered if he missed her or if in fact he had been glad to be rid of her.

  He would suppose she had gone back to Yorkshire and this would have relieved him of feeling any embarrassment about being with the Countess again.

  Cleopatra’s green eyes reminded her of Cousin Delphine’s and she thought again and again, as she looked at the cat, of the mischief-making cartoon that had caused all the trouble.

  ‘How could I have done it?’ she asked herself for the thousandth time.

  She heard again the sharp note in the Duke’s voice as he had handed her Mrs. Humphrey’s letter and asked, “Perhaps you would like to explain this?”

  How could she explain it? How could she explain anything except that he would never forgive her?

  A tear dropped onto the stove and made a little sizzling sound.

  Fiercely Anthea wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. What was the point of crying? It only gave her a headache.

  There was a knock at the door and she thought it must be Billy bringing her some purchases from the small shop at the other end of the village.

  She turned from the stove, walked towards the door and opened it to stand tran
sfixed.

  It was not Billy who stood there, but the Duke!

  She looked at him with a stricken expression.

  “Good evening, Anthea!”

  It was impossible for her to find her voice.

  She could only stare at him, thinking he looked even more handsome, larger and more overpowering than when she had last seen him.

  “I would like to come in!” the Duke said after a long silence, “but I am not quite certain what to do about Hercules.”

  Anthea looked with bemused eyes to see a black stallion tethered by his bridle to a wooden paling next to the gate.

  She opened her lips to speak but no sound came, and at that moment Billy appeared.

  “That be a fine ’orse, missie!” he said appreciatively.

  “Will you – lead him to – Mr. Clements and ask him to put – the horse – in his stables, rub him down and – feed him?” Anthea asked in a voice that sounded strange even to her.

  ‘That I will, missie,” Billy said with relish. “’Ere’s the things you wanted.”

  He thrust a package into Anthea’s hand and, lifting the bridle from the fence, started to lead the horse down the road.

  “Clements was a – groom before he – retired,” Anthea explained to the Duke. “Your horse will be quite – safe with him.”

  She walked back into the cottage to put the package Billy had brought her down on the table.

  “I can see you are very cosy here,” the Duke remarked. “I am sure your Nanny is looking after you well.”

  “Nanny is – dead!”

  There was a throb in her voice. It was difficult to speak.

  “I am sorry about that. Then you are here alone?”

  “Y-yes.”

  She glanced towards him and looked away again. She had not realised before how very small the cottage was.

  He seemed too big for the tiny room and his head almost touched the oak beams crossing the ceiling.

  “I have ridden a long way,” the Duke said. “I wonder if I could have a drink?”

  “Of course,” Anthea replied. “I have some cider or, when Billy returns, he can fetch you something from the inn.”

  “Cider will do well.”

  The Duke sat down on a hard chair beside the table, as Anthea brought a bottle from a cupboard and put a tumbler down in front of him.

  She then went back to the stove to stir the rabbit in the pot, her back to the Duke.

  He watched her as he drank the cider.

  Then he said,

  “I have also had nothing to eat since noon and then it was not a very substantial meal.”

  “I have nothing to offer you but rabbit – and that is really for the cats,”

  “I have a feeling they are already overfed,” the Duke commented, “while you are looking very thin, Anthea.”

  “I – have not been – hungry.”

  The Duke glanced at Antony and Cleopatra, who eyed him balefully.

  “I am very fond of rabbit!” he stated firmly.

  Anthea brought a clean linen cloth from a drawer and laid it over the table.

  Then she set a knife and fork in front of the Duke and put a plate near the stove to warm.

  “I have a dislike of eating alone,” he said, “and although I have a feeling your cats will accept an invitation with alacrity, I would rather you joined me, Anthea.”

  She put another plate to warm and laid another knife and fork without looking at him. She also put a cottage loaf of fresh bread and a pat of butter on the table.

  “That looks extremely good!” the Duke exclaimed.

  “There are a few strawberries and a small cream cheese, otherwise the larder is empty.”

  “I am too hungry to be particular,” the Duke answered. “I am looking forward to the rabbit.”

  There were no vegetables, so Anthea went into the garden and cut a lettuce. She also found several tomatoes, which had ripened in the sun.

  She thought as she went back into the cottage that the Duke looked very much at his ease. But his riding-boots were dusty and she knew that he must have ridden hard.

  “How did you – find me?” she managed to ask, as he cut himself a large crust from the cottage loaf.

  “Thais told me.”

  Anthea started.

  “Thais? You have – been to – Yorkshire?”

  “I thought you would have gone home,” he replied, “but, when I realised you were not there, I was very tactful.”

  “You did – not tell – Mama?”

  “No, of course not,” he answered, “and, when I realised that none of them had heard from you, I took Thais on one side and told her the truth.”

  Anthea was unable to meet his eyes.

  The thought of the Duke and Thais discussing the cartoons she had drawn made her feel more humiliated than she had before.

  “It was Thais,” the Duke went on, “who guessed that you would come here, so you can realise that I have done a lot of travelling in the last week.”

  Anthea started.

  “Your head!” she exclaimed. “You have not had your headaches again?”

  “Occasionally,” the Duke admitted, “but it was only because I was doing more than perhaps was expedient”

  “I-I am – sorry.”

  She told herself this was one more thing she had done wrong, one more way in which she had damaged the Duke.

  She was quite certain that he should never have undertaken such an arduous journey as going all the way to Yorkshire and then down to Worcestershire so soon after he had returned from the Continent.

  The rabbit was ready and having tipped it from the saucepan into a china dish, she brought it to the table.

  She remembered there was vinegar in the cupboard for the salad and also a pot of homemade redcurrant jelly. Nanny would never let a season go by without making the fruit into jams, and Anthea had not forgotten that ever since she was a child she had always found them delicious.

  “I suppose it’s because I am very hungry,” the Duke said, “but I don’t think I have ever tasted a more delectable rabbit!”

  Because she thought it would please him, Anthea put a little on her own plate.

  Now she surreptitiously gave morsels of it to Antony and Cleopatra who were moving restlessly around the table, rubbing themselves against their legs and making it quite clear that it was their dinnertime.

  The Duke took a second helping of rabbit.

  Then there was a knock on the door.

  “It will be Billy,” Anthea said. “He has come to tell you about your horse.”

  The Duke put his hand in his pocket and drew out a handful of change.

  “Can you afford sixpence?” Anthea asked. “He has been very helpful to me.”

  “In which case why not a shilling?”

  “We must not spoil the market!” she answered.

  For a moment he saw a suspicion of her irresistible dimples.

  She gave Billy the sixpence and then remembered that the Duke had only had cider with his dinner.

  “Is there anything you would like Billy to fetch you?” she asked. “I imagine The Pelican has some port.”

  “I would rather not risk it!” the Duke replied. “That will be all, then, Billy.”

  “Goodnight, missie,” he answered. “I’ll be around early in the morning with the eggs for your breakfast.”

  Anthea closed the door behind him.

  The Duke had eaten practically all the rabbit and she put the few pieces left on a plate on the floor for Antony and Cleopatra.

  He finished the strawberries in a few mouthfuls and helped himself to the cream cheese Anthea had made from the milk the cats had not required.

  Anthea took the empty plates into the scullery and when she returned the Duke was cutting himself another piece of the loaf.

  “I am afraid I cannot give you an adequate meal,” she apologised in a worried voice, “but doubtless you can get something to eat at Pershore or wherever you are going to stay t
onight.”

  The Duke finished the cheese before he replied,

  “I think it would be sheer cruelty to take Hercules any further and, quite frankly, I am tired.”

  “Why could you not have come here more slowly?” Anthea asked. “You know the doctor said you were to be careful not to do too much too quickly.”

  “I have a feeling,” the Duke said with a note of amusement in his voice, “that is exactly the way your Nanny would have spoken to me were she here!”

  “She would at least have made you behave sensibly!”

  “If I am to be sensible,” the Duke replied, “then I refuse categorically to go any further tonight!”

  He looked round the tiny room before he added,

  “I don’t mind sleeping on the floor. I have slept in far worse places when we were fighting in Portugal.”

  “That is a ridiculous suggestion and you know it!” Anthea answered him sharply. “I can manage very well in the armchair and I will show you where you can sleep.”

  She walked towards the very narrow twisting staircase, which was just beside the front door.

  The Duke followed her.

  “Be very careful of your head!” Anthea admonished. “Even I have difficulty coming up these stairs.”

  Doing as she told him, the Duke followed her and she opened the door of the room above.

  The walls sloped under the thatch, but there were two low diamond-paned windows to let in the light and the Duke could see the whole room was filled with a bed that made him stare in astonishment.

  Anthea saw his face and for the first time since he had arrived she gave a little laugh.

  “It is surprising, is it not?”

  “It is indeed!” the Duke agreed.

  “Nanny’s brother-in-law weighed over twenty stone,” Anthea explained, “and he always said he was so uncomfortable in an ordinary bed that he invented this one. He made the frame of oak and collected goose-feathers for his mattress.”

  Anthea’s dimples were showing as she went on,

  “When we were children, Nanny used to tell us stories about this bed and how her sister, to make the sheets for it, had to sew two large ones together, and the same applied to the blankets. We used to talk about it as The Giant’s Bed and when I saw it I knew it had been aptly named!”

  “It certainly solves our problem,” the Duke remarked.