Four

Willowmere was nearly on the way to London, and they arrived in the neighborhood late in the afternoon. Tony had kept up a constant flow of talk throughout the drive, and Elisabeth had to admit to herself, a bit guiltily, that she would be very glad to sit alone in her bedchamber for a while before dinner. The unbroken company of such a lively young man was somewhat wearing.

They were directed to the house by an innkeeper and had no difficulty finding the signpost that marked its turn-off. But as they drove down the lane, they saw no signs of a dwelling. Finally, the chaise slowed before a set of stone gateposts wildly overgrown with weeds. The avenue between them was hardly more than a double line of ruts with a bit of gravel here and there. “Can this be Willowmere?” asked Elisabeth apprehensively. “It looks as if no one has driven down that in years.”

“This should be the right place, according to the innkeeper’s directions,” replied Tony. “Let us go and see.”

“It’s just like the beginning of a novel,” added Belinda. “Do you think Willowmere is haunted now?”

“No, I do not,” said Elisabeth sharply, not wishing to encourage the development of nervous fancies. “I suppose we must try it.” She gave this order, and the carriage started slowly up the avenue, the driver watching carefully for potholes and soft spots.

Almost immediately, they passed between two rows of huge oak trees that had been allowed to grow across the path. For about a mile, the sides of the chaise were brushed by great branches, and the coachman had to steer it from side to side to avoid being obstructed. They could hear him muttering his disapproval. When Elisabeth was just about to suggest that they turn back, they emerged from the trees into a wide circular clearing, and they were able to move more rapidly up to the house at the other end.

Willowmere was not a large house, but it was very ancient. Elisabeth knew that the oldest section had been built in Tudor times, and the stones from a medieval manor on the site had been used in its construction. It had been added to in a rather haphazard way, Elisabeth thought as she looked it over, and now seemed to be an unorganized jumble of bow windows, wings, and turrets. Save for a small area around the front door, the grounds were a mass of weeds and brush. Belinda, however, was in raptures. “It must be haunted,” she cried. “It looks just as I always imagined the houses in novels to look.”

As they sat in the carriage debating what to do, the front door of the house opened suddenly, and two people came out. They seemed upset; the woman was wringing her hands nervously, and the man shaking his head, hands on hips. Elisabeth got down and went to meet them. “Are you Mr. and Mrs. Lewis?” she asked. “Mr. Tilling told me that you were caring for the house. I am Elisabeth Elham.”

The woman’s hand-wringing intensified. “Oh miss,” she said. “Mr. Tilling wrote to say you were coming down, but I don’t know what we’re to do. The house isn’t fit to live in, and there’s no food to speak of. I only got the letter today.” She seemed on the verge of tears.

“Yes, I think we must go to an inn,” replied Elisabeth in calming accents. “Mr. Tilling didn’t tell me that the house was uninhabitable. But I expect you couldn’t keep it up alone.”

Mr. Lewis was truculent. “That’s the trouble, miss,” he said gruffly. “We work day and night, but the two of us can’t do all the work around a place this size. Not but what we haven’t tried.”

“Of course you cannot. And I’m sorry we’ve descended upon you with so little warning. I thought Mr. Tilling’s letter would reach you much sooner. I want to look over the house, you know, so that I might see what work needs doing and get it started as soon as may be.” She smiled at them.

The man softened considerably at these words. “Will you be making repairs then, miss?” he asked. “It’s gone sadly against me to see it fall to pieces this way.”

“Yes, indeed. I hope to restore it completely.”

“Praise be,” said Mrs. Lewis.

Turning to her, Elisabeth said, “And we must get you some help in the house. I daresay a place this large could employ three or four maidservants?”

Mrs. Lewis appeared too overcome to speak, but her husband answered, “It could for certain, Miss Elham, and as many men in both the gardens and the stables. Your uncle never cared much for Willowmere; we’ve been alone here nigh on twenty years.”

“Well, that will change very soon,” she replied. “But I hope you will stay on even when it becomes crowded again.” With this remark, she elicited the first smile from Mr. Lewis.

Belinda and Anthony had climbed down by this time, very eager to explore the house, and accordingly, they all went inside. Elisabeth was agreeably surprised as they looked over the rooms, for though most of them were shut up and the furniture under covers, the house itself was sound and some of the furnishings quite usable. All in all, it was not so bad as she’d feared, and her mood had lifted by the time they returned to the drive in front of the house.

“Let’s go all round the gardens,” urged Tony. “We must see the stables and the grounds.”

“I want to look in the gallery,” said Belinda. “Can you believe it? A great hall with a gallery! I never thought to really see one.”

“Go on then,” Tony replied. “Cousin Elisabeth and I will poke around outside.”

“Oh, I couldn’t go there alone,” said Belinda with a shiver.

Elisabeth laughed. “For my part, I’m tired and dusty,” she said. “And I have no desire to look at anything more today. We’ll return tomorrow, and you may explore as much as you please, but now I think we should find rooms for the night.”

Mr. Lewis directed them to The Pony, about four miles away, and they set off once more. The inn was small and off the main highway, but their rooms appeared comfortable and clean. They were the only guests, and the landlady bustled about cheerfully providing them with hot water and towels and taking their orders for dinner.

Elisabeth did manage to spend a few quiet moments alone, but very soon, she was called down to dinner and rejoined her eagerly chattering cousins in the parlor set aside for them. She was becoming more and more conscious of the fact that watching over her two young relatives would be an arduous task.

Throughout dinner, they discussed the house. Anthony was of the opinion that everything should be swept away and replaced with modern furnishings, while Belinda argued with some spirit that all should be kept as it was, only a little cleaner. Elisabeth mediated their disputes, agreeing now with one, now with the other, for her own view was somewhere between the two. They would apparently have carried on the dispute for hours, but Elisabeth convinced them that an early night was in order if they were to return to Willowmere in good time tomorrow, and sent them off to bed. Fatigue caught her as she undressed, and she too was soon in bed and asleep, dreaming endlessly of dust and hangings which fell to pieces in her hands.

The next morning dawned clear and sunny, and Elisabeth woke early. She lay for a while in her bed, watching the branches of the chestnut tree outside her window sway in the light breeze, then rose and dressed, going downstairs in expectation of finding Tony and Belinda before her. But when she reached the parlor, she found that she was the first down, so she strolled out into the early sunshine. In spite of the promise of great heat later on, the day was glorious, and Elisabeth decided to take a short walk before breakfast. She found a footpath leading off toward a little copse behind the inn and took it, delighting in the scents of the fields and the freshness of the air. In her enjoyment of the peaceful scene, she went farther than she had intended. The inn was out of sight by the time she turned back, and the sun was well above the horizon.

She had recrossed a stile and was traversing an open field when she heard hoofbeats behind her. Turning, she was just in time to see the rider urge his magnificent chestnut up and over the fence she had just climbed. The form of both was flawless, and she forgot herself in her admiration of the jump, watching unself-consciously, as the horseman approached her.

The chestnut had white feet and was one of the most beautiful and spirited animals she’d ever seen. He moved with the ease and power of a true thoroughbred and might have made almost any rider appear insignificant, but the man on his back matched his quality. He looked to be tall, and his figure was well-molded and athletic. His buckskin breeches fitted him to perfection, and his coat fairly cried out its fashionable origin in the workrooms of a Weston or a Stultz. Elisabeth had seen a few gentlemen of the haut ton in Bath, and she knew enough to recognize that the deceptive simplicity of the folds of his cravat and the carefully casual arrangement of his hair were the signs of a veritable tulip, a top-of-the-trees Corinthian. At that moment, she met his slightly mocking gaze and looked down in confusion, recalling herself with annoyance. She had been gaping like a schoolgirl, she thought.

The rider pulled up before her. “I almost feel I’ve been in a competition,” he said. His voice was deep and resonant. “I hope you gave me full points for that jump.”

Elisabeth looked up. His eyes were pale blue, she noted, in spite of his black hair and rather dark complexion. “I was staring quite rudely, I know,” she replied. “I beg your pardon. But I was transfixed by the way your horse took that fence.”

The man patted the chestnut’s neck, “He’s wonderful, is Tristram.”

“Tristram?” repeated Elisabeth, smiling. “That’s an uncommon name for a horse. Do you take it from Tristram Shandy?”

The rider looked at her with much more interest than he’d first shown. “Yes, I’m fond of Sterne.”

“Oh, it is my favorite of all books. I thought hardly anyone read it now.”

He smiled back at her somewhat quizzically. “And I should hardly have thought it fit reading for young ladies.” He surveyed her. He was the despair of his mother and several aunts, who had all at one time or another introduced to him dazzling debutantes calculated to urge him into marriage. But though he’d treated them politely, he’d been extremely bored in their company and really had very little notion of what to say to conventional young women. Seeing that Elisabeth was a bit uncomfortable under his gaze, he continued, “But then I rarely find young ladies wandering about my land unattended. So I can’t quite make you out. Are you someone’s governess, perhaps? Do you teach your pupils from Sterne?” His amused smile faded as he went on before she could answer. “No, that doesn’t seem right.”

Looking down at her drab garments, Elisabeth laughed. “I’m sure I don’t know why you say so. I do look very like a governess. In fact, until a few weeks ago, I was a teacher at a seminary for young ladies. Now that my uncle has obligingly left me his fortune, I shall have to change my style of dress.”

“Uncle?” he asked. His eyes narrowed. “You can’t mean old Anthony Elham? I heard of his death.”

“Yes. I am Elisabeth Elham. Though it is not at all the thing to go about introducing oneself to strange men,” she told herself reflectively.

The rider laughed. “I hope I’m not strange. But I beg pardon. I should have made myself known to you immediately. I am your neighbor, Derek Wincannon. Do you mean to say that old Elham has left you Willowmere?”

Elisabeth shrugged. “It is part of the estate. And a very ramshackle part, I must say. I have never seen so neglected a house.”

“It’s the scandal of the neighborhood,” said Mr. Wincannon. “Your uncle was a shocking landlord and a worse neighbor.”

“From what I heard of him,” answered Elisabeth, “he was uniformly shocking. I’m rather sorry I never met him.” The man laughed again. “But in any case, you may inform the neighborhood that I shall be putting the place to rights as soon as I may.”

“That’s good news. Will you be settling there?”

“No. At least, not immediately. I shall live in London for a time, at Elham House.”

“For the season, I assume.”

“Yes, I’ll be bringing out my cousin.”

“You are bringing out someone? I’d have thought it would be the other way about.”

“Oh, no,” Elisabeth smiled. “I’m beyond that sort of thing. Quite on the shelf, in fact,” she added lightly.

“I see it now,” he responded dryly, “a veritable antique. How can I have mistaken you for girl in her twenties?”

She laughed. “Well, I daresay I shall attend a few parties also, if I’m asked.”

He smiled. “There can be little doubt of that, I should think. You’ll wish to sample the gaieties of the season and attend the assemblies at Almack’s.”

“Almack’s? Oh, no, I shouldn’t think so.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“My father used to tell me stories about London, and he was most severe on Almack’s. He called it the Marriage Mart and painted such a vivid picture of the trials young girls undergo as they are catalogued and labeled according to their faces and fortunes that he gave me quite a horror of the place. I don’t at all wish to go there now.”

Mr. Wincannon’s interest was definitely caught. “Now?”

“Well, of course I might have done so some years ago had I been offered the opportunity,” Elisabeth explained obligingly. “When one is thrown penniless upon the world at the age of nineteen, one is willing to try any shift to come about again. I was very willing then to marry to make my fortune. But I wasn’t given the chance, and how fortunate that was, really. For now, you see, there is no need.”

Derek Wincannon laughed. “You are a most unusual girl,” he said.

“Because I prefer to order my own life now that I have the means to do so?” asked Elisabeth. “I’m persuaded you can’t really think so. Would you give up your independence without need? No indeed. When I was desperate and might have married, no one dared offer for me. I certainly won’t encourage anyone to do so now that I have an income.”

“Much good that will do you, I should say.”

Elisabeth looked puzzled. “Oh, I collect you mean that I’ll receive offers now that I am wealthy?”

“Scores of them.”

“Well, if that isn’t the way of things. When you want or need something, it’s beyond your touch, but the moment you don’t, it’s thrust upon you. Utterly nonsensical, and despicable besides, is it not?”

“Utterly,” he agreed, smiling.

“I’ll simply ignore the whole matter,” she finished decisively.

“Will you?” he asked. “How?”

“Why I shall avoid Almack’s and all such places, and I’ll refuse anyone who has the lamentable bad taste to make me an offer. That should answer admirably.”

Wincannon made no reply but simply watched her with twinkling eyes from his horse’s back. After a moment, Elisabeth became conscious of his regard. She smiled, but flushed a bit as well. “My tongue has been running like a fiddlestick, and I’ve been talking a lot of nonsense, I don’t doubt. You must forgive me. I quite miss having a sensible older person to talk to, you see. At the school where I taught, I had the headmistress and my fellow teachers. Now I have only my cousins.”

“And they are not sensible?” inquired Derek.

“Oh, well, they’re young yet, I did not mean to say…of course, Tony is…ah, my wretched tongue. I believe I should cut my losses, as my father used to say, and retreat. I’ve stayed out much longer than I meant to, and I’m keeping you from your ride besides.”

“Not at all,” he answered politely. But as she made unmistakable signs of departing, he bowed slightly in the saddle. “I shan’t try to keep you, but I hope we may meet in London. My mother is bringing my younger sister out this season. If you will allow them to call on you, I’m sure she can help with your cousin.” His eyes twinkled. “I promise she won’t force you to go to Almack’s.”

“Oh, I…you are very kind, but…”

“Good, I’ll tell her.” He pulled up his horse’s head. “And now I shall take my leave and not keep you standing when you wish to go.” With that, he moved away and was soon galloping off across the fields the way he’d come.

Elisabeth returned to the inn a little bemused. Her unconventional conversation with Mr. Wincannon had left her breathless, and she was a little angry with herself for allowing it to happen. Whatever had led her to run on in such a foolish way, she wondered. As she walked, she went over the scene in her mind, and she flushed deeply as she recalled what she’d said. “What a wet-goose!” She put her hands to her hot cheeks and shook her head.

It was very helpful to stride through the fields, venting some excess energy. By the time she reached the innyard once more, Elisabeth had regained her customary spirits, and she was much inclined to dismiss the incident with a laugh. It was highly unlikely, she thought, that she would see Mr. Wincannon again. And if she did, he would doubtless have forgotten meeting her walking on his land. His suggestion about his mother she put down as mere politeness. She vowed to forget the incident and was reasonably successful, though the image of the handsome Mr. Wincannon lingered.

The cousins returned to Willowmere at midmorning, and the whole of that day and the next were spent examining the house and making notes of necessary repairs and additions. Anthony had perfected, or so he thought, a scheme for placing a series of fountains in the gardens at Willowmere, and he kept the ladies laughing with his preposterous designs for piping water to them. Mr. Lewis assured Elisabeth that he knew of several reliable workmen in the neighborhood and engaged to hire them. And Mrs. Lewis said she would have no trouble finding new servants. The couple promised that she would not know the place when she visited again.

At the end of the week, the three cousins set out for London and reached Elham House easily in one day. The main rooms were painted and refurnished, and Tony and Belinda settled happily into the rooms provided for them, while Elisabeth collapsed in her own. The innumerable tasks before her would simply have to wait, she thought, as she lay on her bed before dinner.

When the formidable Ketchem, who had arrived in their absence, came in to help Elisabeth change for dinner, she had to wake her. And she had a good deal to say about foolish persons who travel in the summer heat and wear themselves down. Elisabeth endured the scold meekly, but when she went downstairs to dinner, she felt something akin to despair. Why had she taken on this household of strangers, she wondered, and would she last a fortnight among them?