106. Love's Dream in Peril Read online

  Duncombe Manor, the farms and lands that went with it and all of Mr. Dryden’s fortune were to go to him as the only son.

  And then there was a long pause. Old Mr. Poole took off his glasses and polished them carefully, as if they had suddenly misted up.

  As Digby listened to what he had to say next, he was very glad that his sisters had not come to the study.

  He looked across at his mother and saw her white face and that there were tears in her eyes.

  “Mr. Dryden made a number of investments during his lifetime, which were not well-advised,” Mr. Poole told them. “Over the last year these investments lost value and he was forced to take out mortgages on a number of the properties belonging to the estate.”

  “What – does that mean?” Mrs. Dryden asked and Digby saw that her hands were clenched so tightly in her lap that the knuckles were white.

  “It means that your son’s inheritance amounts to little more than a very large debt,” Mr. Poole said, looking down at the papers. “The Manor itself remains. But there is no money to continue to pay the mortgages and the bank will take over the farms and the land. And what you will have to live on, Mrs. Dryden, I cannot imagine.”

  “Oh!” Digby’s mother held her face in her hands.

  Digby had the same frozen feeling that had come over him when Mr. Evans came to break the news of his father’s death.

  The Solicitor was peering at him through his thick lenses.

  “I understand you have just gained your degree, from Oxford University,” he said.

  “Yes,” Digby nodded.

  His head and his body now felt wooden, completely without any feeling.

  “Then I should advise you to take up a profession, young man, as soon as may be. You have your charming mother and four pretty sisters looking to you to provide for them. And I don’t doubt that this old Manor will cost a pretty penny to run.”

  The Solicitor looked thoughtful.

  “There is a Dryden in adjacent Chambers to mine at Lincoln’s Inn. A most renowned and respected Judge. I have often wondered if he might have some connection to your family – ”

  Mrs. Dryden raised her head.

  “Yes!” she said. “He is my dear husband’s second cousin. We have never met, but James did speak of him sometimes.”

  “Then I suggest that you contact him immediately, Mr. Dryden. He may be able to help you gain a foothold in the legal profession.”

  “But I never – ”

  Digby could not imagine himself as a lawyer. Why he could end up like Mr. Poole, grey and bent, travelling all over the country to bring bad news to people!

  “Thank you so much, Mr. Poole, for that very kind suggestion.” Mrs. Dryden smiled at the old man, although her eyes were still wet with tears.

  “Not at all, not at all.” Mr. Poole stood up to take his leave.

  As soon as the Solicitor had gone, Digby turned to his mother and pulled himself up to his full height.

  “I will go off tomorrow and find this Judge, Papa’s cousin,” he told her.

  Even though his heart sank as he heard himself say these words, he saw from a new brightness in his mother’s eyes and the quivering but happy smile on her lips that he had made the right decision.

  Come what may he must go to London and learn to be a lawyer.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Lady Edith Fowles, Lord Ranulph’s mother, was sipping her cup of coffee and sorting through the morning post, which had just been brought to her on a silver tray.

  “Well, my dear, it has been such a pleasure to have your company these last two weeks,” she said to her son in an affectionate tone.

  Lord Ranulph had just come down to breakfast. He went over to the sideboard and helped himself to some kedgeree and scrambled eggs.

  It felt odd, even after two weeks to be here in the elegant and calm ambience of Fowles Place.

  He missed the bustle and excitement of being in his rooms in College, hearing his fellow students tramping up and down the stairs and talking at the tops of their voices.

  He sat down at the table opposite his mother.

  “I am so very glad you have decided not to stay in the country for the summer,” she continued. “You would have missed so many opportunities.”

  Lord Ranulph realised with a sinking heart that she was about to start on her favourite topic of conversation.

  He looked down at his kedgeree, which he suddenly found rather unappetising.

  As the only son of Lord and Lady Fowles, it was Lord Ranulph’s duty to marry as soon as possible and to have a son to ensure that the family line would continue and for the legacy of the Fowles estates to remain secure.

  He did not feel at all ready to commit himself to matrimony, let alone setting up house and starting a family.

  “Oh, look!”

  Lady Fowles opened one of the envelopes on the tray and pulled out a gold-embossed card.

  “Penelope Ireton has chosen a date for her ball at last. She has been bragging on about it for months, while keeping us all on tenterhooks. I hate to admit it, Ranulph, but it will be the event of the Season.”

  Lady Ireton was a widow, just a few years younger than Lord Ranulph’s mother. She was one of London’s best hostesses, famous for sumptuous luncheon parties and scintillating soirées.

  Lord Ranulph had rather liked her when he had met her with his parents at the opera one evening, for she was a keen horsewoman and had been happy to tell him all about her very latest purchase, Rollo, a grey thoroughbred.

  “Shall you go, darling?”

  His mother was looking at him across the table as he pushed his plate of kedgeree aside.

  “I don’t know,” he replied after a moment.

  Lady Fowles looked rather cross.

  “Why don’t you know? And what’s wrong with the kedgeree? Are you off your food?”

  “I am not hungry, that’s all.”

  “Well, I suppose it is rather hot this morning. But, darling, there really is no point in your being in London if you are going to mope around. You must go out and enjoy yourself and make the most of life and you simply cannot miss Lady Ireton’s ball.”

  “I will think about it.”

  “I should hope you will, darling. You know how much your father and I are longing for you to settle down. And that will never happen if you never meet any suitable girls.”

  “No, Mama. Will you excuse me?”

  Lord Ranulph left the breakfast table and headed for the Mews at the end of the street, where Major had now taken up residence.

  It was a lovely morning, fine and clear, and the air was still cool and fresh. Perfect for a ride in Hyde Park.

  As the groom saddled Major for him, Lord Ranulph felt that perhaps Lady Ireton’s ball might be worth going to after all.

  At least he might have a chance to talk to her again, which would make up for the tedium of dancing with a host of young ladies who had nothing in their heads except the latest fashions.

  *

  Adella was about to go for her first drive since she had come to London.

  She made her way downstairs very carefully for she was wearing a new blue-and-cream striped dress that had been delivered by the dressmaker’s that very morning.

  It had a little jacket to match with blue bows on the sleeves and there was a pretty straw hat with a blue silk flower on it that rested on top of her golden hair.

  Uncle Edgar was in the hall looking up at her.

  “Well,” he said in doubtful tone, “I know nothing of fashion, but I am assured by the dressmaker that this is the very latest thing. I trust you will not look out of place among the throng of Society in Hyde Park.”

  “Thank you, uncle. This is a beautiful dress. I like it very much.”

  It was strange, but wearing the fine clothes almost made her want to speak in a different voice, cool and yet formal, as befitting a young lady.

  “I should hope so,” Uncle Edgar declared. “It’s costing me a pretty penny to
turn you out as befits a young girl in Society. Why it should be necessary for you to have an open carriage and pair I cannot think, but I am assured by members of my Club who have daughters of your age that this is correct.”

  “It will be wonderful to be able to go for a drive,” Adella said. She had hardly been out of doors since she came to London two weeks ago.

  All her time had been spent in having fittings for her new clothes and taking tea with the elderly wives of Uncle Edgar’s old friends from his days in India.

  He shook his head and muttered to himself as he made his way back to his study.

  Adella stepped out into the street and caught her breath as she saw what waited for her under the shade of the plane trees that grew all around Dorset Square.

  An open landau, just the right vehicle that any lady would wish to be seen in as she drove around Hyde Park, had pulled up in front of the house.

  But instead of Uncle Edgar’s bay carriage horses, which had brought her here from Oxford, she saw that two small white ponies were harnessed to the landau.

  Jim, the groom, was standing at their heads with an anxious expression on his face.

  “Oh, they are so sweet!” Adella cried.

  There was really something enchanting about the two little creatures with their large eyes and long white manes and tails. They looked straight out of a Fairy tale.

  “Do you like them, miss?” Jim asked her.

  “I love them! What are they called?”

  “This one is Sugar and this one Spice, miss.”

  “Oh, how perfect.” Adella stroked their soft noses.

  “I’m glad you think so, miss,” Jim looked relieved. “They’re a wee bit small and they’ll ’ave a job pullin’ your uncle’s heavy old landau. We won’t be able to go too fast.”

  “I don’t mind a bit,” Adella said. “I adore them.”

  Now that she looked more closely, the two little ponies did look rather odd in front of the high landau, which was intended to be pulled by tall strong horses.

  But they looked so delicious with their short legs and their neat little hooves. Spice tossed his head and then gave a shrill neigh, pawing at the road impatiently.

  “Look at him, he’s so keen to be off!” Adella cried. “I am sure we will make very good speed.”

  Jim helped her into the Landau.

  “I’m glad you think so, miss,” he said. “When your uncle chose these little fellers for you, I thought it must be a young child who was comin’ to live with ’im. I was very surprised to see you was a young lady.”

  “My uncle had not seen me for a long time,”

  Jim climbed up into the driver’s seat and took up the reins.

  “Oh, dear me,” he declared, looking down with a comical expression of dismay on his face. “They are a very long way down. It’s like drivin’ two little mice. The other coachmen’ll never let me live this down.”

  Adella bit her lip to keep from laughing. She was so much looking forward to her first drive in Hyde Park and she was certainly not going to let the opinion of some foolish coachmen spoil it for her.

  “Let’s go,” she urged.

  Jim clucked to Sugar and Spice and then they set off, their little hooves clopping along at a steady pace.

  There were few people about in the Square and in the surrounding streets. But, as the landau arrived at Hyde Park and came to Rotten Row, the famous route for horses and carriages, it was another world altogether.

  There were open carriages everywhere, pulled by tall horses with gleaming coats and polished hooves. They were overflowing with ladies in fine silks with feathers and flowers cascading from their large hats.

  Now Adella understood why it was so important to sport an open carriage. It was so that the gentlemen on Rotten Row on their fine horses could see you.

  The gentlemen cast admiring glances at Adella as they trotted past, but she noticed that the ladies raised their eyebrows at the sight of Sugar and Spice. Some of them laughed behind their hands.

  The only ponies to be seen were trotting up and down with small children on their backs, while anxious Nannies hurried behind in their thick navy uniforms.

  As the landau trundled along, Adella realised that she was travelling at a snail’s pace compared to the others.

  She did not really mind until a black-haired woman in a tight-fitting habit cantered past on a tall grey horse and laughed out loud as she saw the ponies.

  “Look, it’s as good as a circus!” Adella heard her call to her companion, a dashing Army Officer at her side.

  A flood of anger and embarrassment rushed over Adella and she opened her parasol and held it so that, if anyone else made fun of her, she should not see them.

  “Jim, please, I think we should turn for home,” she called out.

  “Why, miss, we’ve ’ardly got to the far end of the Row! Now we’re ’ere, we might as well continue. I should think everyone’s ’ad a good look at us by now.”

  As he spoke, there was a thud of galloping hooves, and a gentleman on a tall black horse sped past the landau and came to a sudden halt just in front of it.

  “Whoa, there!” Jim called, steadying the ponies, who were eyeing the spirited horse with alarm.

  Adella adjusted her parasol, so that the gentleman should not see her face.

  “Please, Jim! Let’s go back at once.”

  “Of course, miss.” Jim replied and pulled the reins to turn the ponies’ heads.

  “Wait!” An imperious voice called out.

  The rider of the black horse had turned back and was now by the side of the landau.

  “Miss May, isn’t it?”

  There was something strangely familiar about the man’s deep voice.

  “Miss May?”

  She could not continue to ignore him. Reluctantly, Adella raised her parasol so that she could see him.

  “So it is you!” A young man with strong features and black hair was gazing intently at her with glowing dark eyes.

  It was Digby’s friend from Oxford.

  “Lord Ranulph Fowles, at your service,” he said. “Surely you remember me?”

  “Yes, of course,” Adella replied, her voice feeling very tight in her throat. “How do you do?”

  She longed more than anything to put her parasol up again and shut him out, for the way that he was looking at her made her feel most uncomfortable.

  He gave a little laugh.

  “I would hardly have recognised you, Miss May, if it had not been for those stray curls that are escaping from your hat. I should have known that glorious golden hair anywhere!”

  Adella felt her cheeks grow warm as she recalled the moment when her hair had tumbled over her shoulders, as Lord Ranulph rode past in that leafy street in Oxford.

  It did not seem quite gentlemanly of him to remind her of that right here in London, with the cream of Society passing back and forth along Rotten Row in their carriages.

  “If you will excuse me, Lord Ranulph, I must return home at once.”

  “May I ride with you?” he asked.

  “No, please, if you will excuse me.”

  He reached out and caught the side of the landau with his strong hand.

  “Miss May, you don’t seem – is anything wrong?”

  “Not at all. Please excuse me, I really must go.”

  “Miss May, can I ask why you were hiding behind your parasol when I saw you? I thought for a moment that you did not wish to speak to me.”

  “No, no, of course not.” Adella tried to smile and wished that he would go away.

  Jim, at long last, was urging the ponies homeward, but Lord Ranulph was still beside her, holding back his proud thoroughbred to match their slow pace.

  “Miss May, something is troubling you,” he tried again. “You are not at all yourself.”

  As he spoke, the woman on the grey horse who had made the remark about the circus cantered past again.

  “Oh, look! Our Cinderella of the circus has found a beau to
ride beside her,” she called out to her companion, flicking her whip at the ponies. “Trot on, little mice!” she laughed, as she rode away.

  Lord Ranulph raised his hat to her.

  “Lady Ireton!” he said. “Good morning.” Then he turned to Adella, adding, “what a horsewoman!”

  “It’s a shame her manners don’t match her skills on horseback,” Adella said, her cheeks burning from the jibe.

  Lord Ranulph looked closely at her.

  “Miss May. You are upset!”

  To her horror Adella found that tears were welling up in her eyes.

  “Lady Ireton is well known in Society for her wit! I am sure that she meant no harm by her remark,” Lord Ranulph tried to soothe her.

  “It was not kind of her to make fun of Sugar and Spice,” Adella asserted, trying to sound calm.

  “Is that their names? How charming. Well, they are perhaps a rather unusual sight on the Row. Maybe more suitable for the Fairy Queen’s walnut shell coach or Cinderella’s pumpkin! But very charming nonetheless.”

  Adella said nothing and glanced at Lord Ranulph. His expression was perfectly serious and he did not seem to be laughing at her as he soothed his restless horse, which was tossing his head and fretting to gallop along the Row.

  As the landau left Hyde Park and headed through the streets that led to Dorset Square, she turned to him.

  “My Uncle Edgar has made a mistake, I think,” she said with a little sigh. “He sometimes forgets that I have grown up and become a young lady and thinks of me still as a child.”

  “I am glad of that,” Lord Ranulph replied. “My eye was drawn to your delightful ponies and if that had not been the case, I should perhaps have missed your golden hair and let you pass by unnoticed.”

  He cleared his throat.

  “I wonder if I might call upon you, tomorrow, Miss May? I should very much like to see you again and also to meet your uncle.”

  Adella was surprised at this request. What answer should she give him?

  He was certainly a very handsome young man and she should be pleased that he was paying attention to her.

  But he was Digby’s friend. What if he spoke about him? She did not know if she could bear it.