small number of people had voiced certain doubts when, just two years after his father’s demise, he had calmly announced his intention of marrying his childhood sweetheart.
What a beautiful creature dear Clarissa had been! her ladyship mused, her mind’s eye having little difficulty in conjuring up a clear image of limpid blue eyes set to perfection in that lovely heart-shaped face, the whole framed in a riot of the prettiest guinea-gold curls.
The only child of an impoverished country squire, Clarissa would undoubtedly have become the toast of any Season had her father ever been in a position to finance such a venture. From the age of sixteen she had had most every eligible young bachelor in the county dangling after her at one time or another. Yet she had remained touchingly devoted to the only son of her nearest neighbours. They had seemed such an ideal couple, perfectly suited in every way. When little Hannah had been born, within a year of their marriage, their happiness had seemed complete.
It had been shortly after the birth of her first grandchild, the Dowager clearly recalled, that she had first broached the subject of her making her home in Bath. It was most touching, of course, that neither her son nor daughter-in-law would hear of such a thing, so she had remained at Courtney Place until after the birth of their second child three years later. Then no amount of entreaties had persuaded her to remain in the beautiful ancestral home, where in many ways she had continued to feel as though she was still its mistress.
She had never experienced any regrets in the choice she had made. Bath suited her very well. She had made many friends there, and was looking forward to the day when she could return to her comfortable house in Camden Place.
Much depended, of course, on how matters progressed during these next few weeks in Brighton, for she had no intention of allowing her son to return to the ancestral pile alone, once the summer was over, to continue brooding over the loss of his lovely Clarissa. If this meant that she must delay her return to the West Country to bear him company, then so be it! She could not help hoping, though, that matters would resolve themselves in a far more satisfactory manner, and that her son would soon be sharing his lovely home with quite a different lady.
Drawing her eyes away from the pleasing landscape, her ladyship darted a glance at the only other occupant of the well-sprung travelling carriage to discover her companion sitting quietly staring out of the other window, seemingly lost in a world of her own.
Daniel, the astute demon, had not been wrong when he had suggested that something had occurred to disturb the normally very calm waters of Miss Robina Perceval’s mind. Something most definitely had! If, as Daniel himself suspected, the vicar’s daughter was not at all sure that she wished to cement an alliance with the noble Courtney family, then it would, indeed, be most unfair to bring pressure to bear upon the dear girl during the forthcoming weeks to do just that.
It was so difficult to know how best to proceed in a situation such as this, her ladyship decided, absently running a finger back and forth across a faint crease in her skirts. She had no real desire to interfere in such a delicate and personal matter, while at the same time she had no intention of allowing her only child to dwindle into middle age a lonely and grieving man, when at hand was the very being who could bring great contentment back into his life, even if she failed to make him perfectly happy.
It wasn’t as if she was foolish enough to suppose for a moment that Miss Robina Perceval could ever take the place of the beautiful Clarissa in Daniel’s eyes. That would be hoping for far too much! There was no denying, though, that he had perceived something in the vicar’s daughter that appealed to him, for she was the only female he had displayed the least interest in throughout his entire sojourn in the capital.
She cast a further glance across the carriage to the opposite corner. Only this time she discovered that she was being observed in turn by a pair of blue eyes which, although of a similar hue, betrayed a deal more intelligence than the late Baroness Exmouth’s had ever done.
‘I was beginning to think you’d fallen asleep,’ her ladyship remarked for want of something better to say. ‘So quiet had you become.’
‘Oh, no, my lady. Merely lost in admiration for this part of the country. I’ve never travelled this far south before, so everything is new and interesting.’
Although the poor girl might be experiencing grave doubts about this forthcoming sojourn in Brighton, it was quite evident that she was not prepared to brood about it to the extent that she became taciturn, the Dowager thought, mentally adding a further tick to that long column of Miss Robina Perceval’s excellent qualities.
‘I can recall a time, my dear child, not so very long ago, when many abandoned their attempts to reach the small fishing village, which Brighton used to be not so very long ago. Much is said these days to the Regent’s discredit, but if he had not purchased his “little farmhouse” on the coast, I very much fear that this and many other roads in this part of the country would have remained those frequently impassable tracks, full of potholes and littered with abandoned carriages.’
Evidently the vicar’s eldest daughter was much struck by this viewpoint, for her pretty face wore a very thoughtful expression, as it so often did when she was turning something over in her mind.
‘Yes, one tends to forget that not so very long ago travelling about the country was something of a dangerous undertaking, and that journeys that used to take very many hours are now completed in a fraction of the time.’
‘And in far greater comfort, too!’ her ladyship assured her. ‘Carriages are so well sprung nowadays, and there are always plenty of hostelries en route where one can refresh oneself.’
As if on cue the carriage turned off the post road a moment later and came to a halt in the forecourt of a very superior posting-house. The door was thrown wide, the steps were let down, and his lordship stood, hand held out, ready and appearing very willing, to assist them to alight.
‘Why is it, Mama,’ he remarked, guiding them into the inn, ‘that two ladies can travel the same distance, in the very same conveyance, and yet one can look none the worse for her ordeal whilst the other resembles nothing so much as a ruffled hen which has spent much of the day ineffectually flapping about a farmyard?’
‘Odious boy! No need to enquire which of us in your opinion needs to set her appearance to rights, I suppose.’ The Dowager tried to appear affronted but failed miserably. ‘Where may this overheated hen refresh herself?’
His lordship beckoned to a serving-maid, and Robina, having somehow managed to keep her countenance, accompanied her ladyship into one of the upstairs chambers to effect the necessary repairs to her own appearance.
It was by no means the first time she had heard Daniel utter some provocative remark. Her ladyship never failed to take her son’s teasing in good part, and Robina couldn’t help but feel a little envious of the special bond which existed between mother and son. She would never have dreamt of saying such things to either of her parents, especially not to her mother, who, unlike the Dowager, did not possess much of a sense of humour.
That was perhaps why she liked her ladyship so much. Lady Exmouth was such an easygoing soul, fun-loving yet in no way light-minded, though she tried, Robina had frequently suspected, to give the impression that she was a trifle featherbrained.
They had got on famously from the first, and Robina did not doubt that she would have derived much pleasure from the Dowager’s delightful company during the forthcoming weeks, had it not been for the fact that that dear lady would be bitterly disappointed if, by the end of their stay in Brighton, her son’s engagement to the Vicar of Abbot Quincey’s daughter had not been announced.
She ought to feel flattered, she supposed, that the Dowager’s son had taken such an interest in her, and maybe she would have been if she thought for a moment that she had succeeded in capturing his heart. But she flatly refused to delude herself. There was little hope of her, or anyone else for that matter, ever taking the place of his late wife.
After removing her bonnet, she took a moment to study her reflection in the glass as she tidied an errant curl. She was well enough, she supposed. At least she had been assured that