nervous and avoided her eyes. Her hands were trembling in her lap. Christina could feel the tension in her—that strength of character which had helped her bear the burdens of life with quiet dignity seemed to have been taxed to its limits. ‘Mama, you would tell me if he were ill, wouldn’t you?’
‘Of course I would,’ she said, fingering the tassels on a cushion nervously.
‘Then if he isn’t ill, has his decision not to go to the match anything to do with Mr Lloyd’s visit earlier? Mama, what is it? Why are you looking so frightened?’
‘Oh, my darling girl, I am not frightened of anything. It’s nothing, really it isn’t, and your worries are commendable but unnecessary. Now why don’t you go and get changed for dinner? You must be hungry after all that fresh air.’
‘Where’s Papa?’
‘Upstairs. He’ll be down shortly. After his meeting with Mr Lloyd he was—tired—that’s all it was.’ She smiled tenderly. ‘Your papa’s not as young as he was and, although he would never admit it, it’s catching up with him.’
Christina didn’t believe her and knew she was only trying to placate her. ‘Mama, I’m not a child and I cannot ignore what stares me in the face. We both know that for Papa to miss the cricket match it would have to be something extremely serious. Please don’t keep anything from me.’
‘I wouldn’t, not if I thought you should know. Rest assured that you papa is perfectly well.’
‘And it has nothing to do with Mr Lloyd?’
For a split second Christina glimpsed in her eyes the pain of a woman deeply wounded. A cloud seemed to pass over her face and then just as quickly it was gone.
‘Did Mr Lloyd play in the match?’ Audine asked quickly in an attempt to divert the conversation away from her husband.
‘Yes. He’s quite an exceptional player—saved the day—a good all rounder, isn’t that what they say? Papa would have been terribly impressed. It’s a shame he missed it.’
‘Yes, yes it was, but I’m sure Mr Embleton made a perfectly good umpire. As a matter of fact, Mr and Mrs Embleton have invited your father and I to visit them tomorrow and to stay overnight. I have to say that it will be a change and will do your father good to have a change of scene.’
‘Are Peter and I not invited?’ Christina was quick to ask, sincerely hoping they were.
‘No, my dear, I’m afraid not. It’s for the older generation.’ She smiled at her daughter’s crestfallen face. ‘Don’t be too upset about it, Christina. I’m sure James will find his way to Tanglewood some time during the day. You—like James, don’t you?’
Christina nodded and her eyes flashed darkly beneath their ebony lashes. ‘Yes, very much, and I mean to have him, if I can make him see me beyond Peter—who seems to think I’m some inept, empty-headed ninny. My heart is set on it.’ Getting up, she paced to and fro across the richly patterned carpet, her cheeks flushed to a rosy glow with some inner excitement. ‘I have decided that I want to marry him, Mama, and no other man will do.’
Audine disliked the wildness of her daughter’s mood and was tempted to scold her, but, relieved the conversation had veered away from Mr Lloyd and the threat he posed to her beloved daughter’s future, she decided to let her have her say. Never had she seen so much animation and passion in her. It seemed to permeate the atmosphere of the very room.
‘And when did you arrive at this momentous decision, Christina?’
‘Oh, a long time ago—ever since that first time Peter brought him home.’ She tossed her head, causing her hair to shimmer. ‘It occurred to me then that he was everything I wanted.’
‘And what of James?’ Looking into the sparkling green eyes, Audine said gently, ‘Will he be willing to fall in with your plans, do you think? Do you think it will be that simple?’
‘It has to be,’ she replied with a wickedly radiant smile. ‘He’ll be delighted when I tell him about it.’
‘You are still very young to be talking like this. Why the rush? You have plenty of time to think of marriage.’
‘Oh, no, Mama,’ Christina said, seating herself back on the sofa and frowning a little at her mother’s anxious face. ‘You were married at twenty and I will very soon be eighteen. James will want me, I know he will.’
‘A girl’s first romance always seems so enduring, so very real, but in reality the dreams never turn out that way.’
Christina jerked her head up. ‘It’s not like that with James and me. I know it’s for real, Mama. I believe it. It may be a dream for now, but I will follow it through.’
Audine smiled resignedly, reaching out and tenderly tucking a stray lock of hair behind Christina’s ear. ‘Of course you will. You have character, intelligence and spirit to do that. You will never be satisfied with empty self-delusions. Whatever happens, my darling, always look life in the eye and never make compromises. But James has had sufficient time to let you know how he feels,’ she pointed out gently.
‘I know, but Peter’s always around.’ Christina smiled confidently, trusting and full of hope. ‘I’m certain he is only waiting for the right moment to declare himself.’
‘Then we shall have to wait and see.’ On impulse Audine put her arms around her daughter and hugged her warmly. ‘For now you need guidance and advice.’
‘And you will always be on hand to give it to me, won’t you, Mama? You and Papa.’ She felt the arms about her tighten slightly, but she didn’t see the bright tears that sprang to her mother’s eyes.
‘Yes—always,’ Audine whispered, her throat constricting with painful emotion. ‘But all this is still just a dream, my darling.’
‘A dream not beyond my grasping,’ Christina said, freeing herself from the embrace. ‘I will show James how much I care for him—and before long he will be hopelessly head over heels in love with me. You see if he won’t.’
Audine looked hard at her daughter’s beautiful, rapt face. She would be perfectly happy for Christina to realise her dream, but with the arrival of Mr Lloyd she very much doubted it. Audine knew how stubborn she could be, how single-minded, and that she would have her way at any cost. But love? What did Christina know of love? As yet she had no real inkling of the intensity, the sheer driving force of passionate love, but when it touched her she would not deny herself the having of it.
Yet she wasn’t sure that James Embleton was the right man for her headstrong, rebellious child. She needed a man with drive and a fire in his veins to match her own. A man who would curb her conceits and that wild streak in her—a man like Mr Lloyd, perhaps? Or perhaps she should call him by his Italian name and title, Count Maxwell Marchesi, who had every right to take away their precious girl.
Christina had an underlying fear that something was very wrong and her concern that something had happened to upset her parents deepened throughout dinner. Celebrating the match result with his friends at the public house in the village, Peter was absent. Her father was quiet, distracted, asking few questions about the cricket match that had always been so dear to his heart. Her mother tried very hard to act as if everything was normal, but Christina wasn’t fooled.
The following day after her parents had left with Mr and Mrs Embleton, and convinced Mr Lloyd’s meeting with them before the match had something to do with their dejection, she walked the short distance to the house where he was staying. The day was hot and sultry, and, glancing up at the sky, she suspected a thunderstorm threatened for later.
Of modest proportions, the old, ivy-clad house nestling in a wooded hollow, with gardens packed with an abundance of flowers and climbing plants, was a picture. Having been here many times to visit Major Illingworth when he had been home from India, Christina was familiar with the house. Inside it was beautifully decorated in peach and palest green with heavy damask hangings and tasteful