Sarah Mallory - Regency Beauty

‘Oh, no, miss. He left early. Mr Graddon said not to expect him back much before dinner.’

She bobbed a curtsy and settled down to a game of spillikins with Nicky. Left to amuse herself, Zelah carried her work basket to the cushioned window seat and took out her embroidery. It was a beautiful spring day and she could hear the faint call of the cuckoo in the woods.

The sun climbed higher. Zelah put away her sewing and read to Nicky while Hannah quietly tidied the room around them. The book was one of Nicky’s favourites, Robinson Crusoe , but as the afternoon wore on his eyelids began to droop, and soon he was sleeping peacefully.

‘Best thing for’n. Little mite.’ Hannah looked down fondly at the sleeping boy. ‘Why don’t you go and get yourself some rest, too, miss? I’ll sit here and watch’n for ‘ee.’

Zelah sighed, her eyes on the open window.

‘What I would really like to do is to go outside.’

‘Then why don’t ‘ee? No one’ll bother you. You could walk in the gardens. I can always call you from the window, if the boy wakes up.’

Zelah hesitated, but only for a moment. The spring day was just too beautiful to miss. With a final word to Hannah to be sure to call her if she was needed, she slipped down the stairs and out of the house.

The lawns had been scythed, but weeds now inhabited the flowerbeds and the shrubs were straggling and overgrown. After planning how she would restock the borders and perhaps add a statue or two, she moved on and discovered the kitchen garden, where some attempt was being made to improve it.

The hedge separating the grounds from the track that led to the stables had been hacked down to waist height, beds had been dug and cold frames repaired. Heartened by these signs of industry, Zelah was about to retrace her steps when she heard the clip-clop of an approaching horse. Major Coale was riding towards the stables on a huge grey horse. She picked up her skirts and flew across to the hedge, calling out to him.

He stopped, looking around in surprise.

‘Should you not be with the boy?’

She stared up at him.

‘You have shaved off your beard.’

‘Very observant. But you have not answered my question.’

‘Hannah is sitting with him. It was such a beautiful day I had to come out of doors.’

She answered calmly, refusing to be offended by his curt tone and was rewarded when he asked in a much milder way how the boy went on.

‘He is doing very well, thank you. Dr Pannell is coming in the morning to examine Nicky. All being well, I hope to take him back to West Barton tomorrow.’ He inclined his head and made to move on. She put up her hand. ‘Please, don’t go yet! I wanted to thank you for all you have done for us.’

‘That is not necessary.’

‘I think it is.’ She smiled. ‘I believe if I had not caught you now I should not have seen you again before we left.’

He looked down at her, unsmiling. His grey eyes were as hard as granite.

‘My staff have orders to look after you. You have no need to see me.’

‘But I want to.’ She glanced away, suddenly feeling a little shy. ‘You have been very kind to us. I wanted to thank you.’

She could feel his eyes boring into her and kept her own fixed on the toe of his muddy boot.

‘Very well,’ he said at last. ‘You have thanked me. That is an end to it.’

He touched his heels to the horse’s flanks and moved on.

‘I wish I had said nothing,’ she muttered, embarrassment making her irritable. ‘Did I expect him to thaw a little, merely because I expressed my gratitude? The man is nothing but a boor.’

Even as she spoke the words she came to a halt as another, more uncomfortable thought occurred. Perhaps Major Coale was lonely.

What was it Mrs Graddon had said? He was a great one for society . That did not sit well with his assertion that he had no wish for company. His curt manner, the long hair and the shaggy beard that had covered his face until today—perhaps it was all designed to keep the world at bay.

‘Well, if that is so, it is no concern of mine,’ she addressed the rosemary bush beside her. ‘We all have our crosses to bear and some of us do not have the means to shut ourselves away and wallow in our misery!’

When Dr Pannell called the next day he gave Nicky a thorough examination, at the end of which Zelah asked him anxiously if he might go home now.

‘I think not, my dear.’

‘But his mama is so anxious for him,’ said Zelah, disappointed. ‘And you said he might be moved today …’

‘I know, but that was when I thought the major’s new road would be finished. Now they tell me it will not be open properly until tomorrow. Be patient, my dear. Major Coale has told me his people will be working into the night to make the road passable for you.’

With that she had to be satisfied. Nick appeared quite untroubled by the news that he was to remain at Rooks Tower. His complaisance was much greater than Zelah’s. She hated to admit it, but she was finding the constant attendance on an eight-year-old boy and the company of an amiable but childish chambermaid a little dull.

After sharing a light luncheon with Nicky, Zelah left the boy reading with Hannah and went off in search of Mrs Graddon, to offer her help, only to find that the good lady had gone into Lesserton for supplies. Unwilling to return to the sickroom just yet, Zelah picked up her shawl and went out to explore more of the grounds.

Having seen enough of the formal gardens, she walked around to the front of the house and headed for the orangery. A chill wind was blowing down from the moors and she wrapped her shawl about her as she crossed the lawn. The orangery was built in the classical style. Huge sash windows were separated by graceful pillars that supported an elegant pediment. Between the two central columns were glazed double doors. The stone was in good order, if in need of a little repair, but the woodwork looked sadly worn and several panes of glass were broken.

Zelah was surprised to find the doors unlocked. They opened easily and she stepped inside, glad to be out of the wind. The interior was bare, save for a few dried leaves on the floor, but there were niches in the walls which were clearly designed to hold statues. A shadow fell across her and she swung around.

‘Oh.’

Major Coale was standing in the doorway. She guessed he had just returned from riding, for his boots were spattered with mud and there was a liberal coating of dust on his brown coat. His broad-brimmed hat was jammed on his head and its shadow made it impossible to read his expression. She waved her hand ineffectually.

‘I—um—I hope you do not mind …’

‘Why should I?’ He stepped inside, suddenly making the space seem much smaller. ‘I saw the open doors and came across to see who was here. What do you think of it?’

‘It is in need of a little repair,’ she began carefully.

‘I was thinking of tearing it down—’

‘No!’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘I beg your pardon,’ she said stiffly. ‘It is of course up to you what you do here.’

‘It is indeed, but I am curious, Miss Pentewan. What would you do with it?’

‘New windows and doors,’ she said immediately. ‘Then I would furnish it with chairs for the summer and in the winter I would use it as it was intended, to shelter orange trees.’

‘But I have no orange trees.’

‘You might buy some. I understand oranges are extremely good for one.’

He grunted.

‘You are never at a loss for an answer, are you, ma’am?’

Yes, she thought, I am at a loss now .

She gave a little shrug and looked away.

‘I should get back.’

‘I will accompany you.’