I know he is very ill, dearest, but sometimes patients do feel better—and it will cheer him having his son home,’ her mother said. ‘But you are feeling a little better now, I think? You look brighter, Lucy.’
‘Yes, I began to feel better when I was talking with Jenny today. We were always such good friends, Mama. I have asked her to visit us if she feels she can leave Lord Ravenscar for a few hours. It must be hard for her to see him so frail...and to see Paul the way he is...so distant and reserved.’
‘That does not sound like the man we knew. Well, I dare say it is grief,’ Lady Dawlish said. ‘But now I have some news for you, dearest. It may cheer you. Your cousin Judith is coming to stay—Judith Sparrow.’
‘Uncle John’s daughter,’ Lucy said. ‘She married Sir Michael Sparrow some years back, when she was just seventeen. I have only seen her once, at her wedding.’
Lady Dawlish nodded as she led the way into the parlour. It was a pretty room decorated in shades of green and cream, the furniture a little shabby perhaps from wear, but very comfortable. Books lay about on occasional tables and a fan of lace was lying next to an open workbox, for it was their private place where everything could be left where they wished.
‘Yes, I did not approve of your cousin’s marriage at the time, for Sir Michael was fifteen years her senior and I thought him too old, but she would have him and my brother approved—and now she is a widow, of course. Her husband died two years ago of a lung disorder. I know she is wealthy and may do as she likes with the fortune he left her—but she is only two and twenty and that is young to be widowed.’
‘Yes, that is true,’ Lucy said, her sympathy instantly aroused. ‘I suffered enough and I was never married to Mark...but if she loved her husband, she must have been devastated.’
‘She has not been much in company since her husband died. My brother says she wished to live quietly while in mourning, but now she has put off her blacks and John is coming with her to stay with us. He will not stay long for he is leaving for France almost immediately, having been given a new diplomatic post. He wanted Judith to be with friends and I assured him that she would be welcome here. You will be glad of her company, I dare say?’
‘Yes, of course, Mama. If she is ready to go into society again, she may attend my dance. I dare say you will give a dinner in her honour?’
‘Yes, I shall—and perhaps a picnic, too. It is time we entertained again and we have several invitations to dances, dinners, card evenings and various excursions in the next few weeks. Judith could not have chosen a better time to come...and it will be better for you to have her company, dearest. I dare say you will find that most of your special friends have become engaged or married while we were away.’
‘Yes, I suppose they have,’ Lucy said, sadness fleeting through her eyes. She would have been married more than a year had things been otherwise. ‘I shall be pleased to have my cousin to stay, Mama. Jenny will not remain long after... Well, I dare say she misses her home. She was always my particular friend, but perhaps I shall make friends with my cousin.’
* * *
Lucy was strolling in the garden when the two gentlemen dismounted from their horses in the drive. She saw them and waved her hand, walking towards them, her parasol over her shoulder. Smiling, she greeted them warmly as they waited for her to approach.
‘Adam...Lord Daventry,’ she said. ‘It is such a lovely day, is it not? I was tempted out by the roses; they smell so wonderful at this time of year.’
‘Do you like roses, Miss Dawlish?’ George Daventry said. ‘We have some particularly fine ones at Daventry Hall in Devon—my gardener tells me that I have one of the best collections of old musk roses in the country.’
‘How delightful,’ Lucy replied. ‘I think they have the best perfumes of all...some of the damask roses are gorgeous.’
‘Yes, indeed they are,’ he said and offered his arm as she closed her parasol. ‘How lovely you look, Miss Dawlish. Yellow is certainly your colour, I think.’
‘Thank you,’ she replied. ‘Please, you must both come in and meet Mama. I know she is hoping to see you.’
‘How is your mother, Lucy?’ Adam asked as he followed behind. ‘Your father missed you both a great deal when you were travelling, I think.’
‘Yes, indeed, poor Papa felt lonely after he left us in Italy and returned home. We ought to have come with him, but he insisted we stay until I was ready—and I was not then of a mind to return.’
‘It was a terrible time for all of us. Jenny tells me you are much recovered now.’
‘Yes, thank you. I only wish that I could say the same for your cousin, Adam. Paul seemed unlike himself yesterday, but I dare say he is concerned for his father.’
‘He is in a better mood this morning and apologised for his abruptness yesterday. I believe he is driven to near despair by his father’s illness—perhaps because he feels guilt at having left him alone for so long.’
‘Is his lordship no better?’
‘I thought he seemed a little better this morning,’ Adam replied with a nod. ‘I dare say it is having Paul home again.’
‘Perhaps he will rally,’ Lucy said, then turned to her companion. ‘Tell me, sir, have you found a horse to suit you?’
‘I am looking for a mare for my married sister as a birthday gift,’ he replied. ‘Adam showed me one or two and we have arranged to speak to one Major Wilson, who has several good horses for sale. We shall go there this afternoon.’
‘But you will stay for some refreshment with us first,’ Lucy said. ‘It would be senseless to return to Ravenscar when it is but a short distance from here to Major Wilson’s stud. I know Papa thinks well of his breeding lines and often buys a horse from the major... My own Silver Miss came from him.’
‘Thank you, you are most kind,’ Lord Daventry replied.
Lucy smiled at him, then led the way inside to her mother’s parlour.
* * *
‘Adam and Daventry have not returned for luncheon?’ Paul said, as he entered the small dining parlour they used when just the family was at home. ‘I wanted to ask Adam if he would ride out with me to look at one of the fields.’
‘They went to visit Lucy and her mother—and then I think Lord Daventry wanted to look at Major Wilson’s horses.’
‘Ah, yes, Wilson has some decent blood mares. I think I need a new horse myself...and if I decide to breed I shall need good blood stock to begin my stud.’
‘I am sure his are as good as any to be had in the district, or so Adam says—but of course the horse fair will be here in September if you do not find anything that suits you.’
Paul nodded his agreement, then frowned slightly as he said, ‘I thought Miss Dawlish much changed... Did you not find her so?’
‘Yes,’ Jenny acknowledged. ‘Lucy has grown up, I think—and her face is thinner than before, but when she laughs she looks much as she always did.’
‘Oh? I have not seen her laugh...she has little to say to me,’ Paul rejoined stiffly. He was standing at the buffet, his back towards Jenny.
‘I dare say she feels strange with you. You have not seen one another for an age—and you were a little abrupt when she was here, Paul.’
‘Yes, I dare say I was at fault,’ he said and stared broodingly at the food on the plate he’d brought to table. ‘It was in my mind that she blamed me for taking Mark’s place here.’
‘Oh, no, how could she?’ Jenny said. ‘You must not feel guilty, Paul. We all know that you did not wish for this—that you would willingly have given your life for your brother’s.’
‘Do you?’ Paul turned his gaze on her