Summer Folly Page 3

  “Benson will show you to your rooms,” Giles said, and Anne turned to smile at him. The words she had been about to say died in her throat. Giles. Oh, Giles. All the pain, all the intensity of the youthful infatuation she had once had for him came flooding back. He had been the first person really to pay attention to her, the first one to understand her, the first man who had ever kissed her. With Giles, she had always felt complete, somehow. And he was handsome. Lord, was he handsome. Time had only added to his attractiveness, broadening his shoulders, adding maturity to his face. It had tested him, honed him. It had changed him. Once she had been able to tell what he was thinking, even if to others he seemed inscrutable. Once his eyes had been alight with life. Now they were closed to her, too. It hurt to see him so. In that moment, she wished she had never returned to England.

  She became aware that Giles was staring at her, a quizzical look on his face. “Thank you,” she stammered, and turned, almost racing up the stairs, to Jamie’s audible delight. It was past. It was over. She had her own life now, and that was what mattered. She would discuss the plantation, and Jamie’s future, with Giles; visit her family; enjoy the delights of England for the summer. Then she would go home.

  Jamie protested at having to take a nap, but fell asleep almost as soon as he was tucked into bed in the old night nursery. Anne smiled down at him and then looked around the room, shuddering. Ghastly place, with huge, dark furniture and embroidered mottoes on the wall. No light, no color, no laughter. It was no place for a child.

  Her own room wasn’t quite so gloomy, but here the weight of the Templeton history was apparent. The huge tester bed was of time-darkened oak and was so high that a stair was needed to reach it. The small, diamond-paned windows let in little light, and tapestries hung on the wall to keep out the damp. Fortunately the counterpane was a cheerful red, and the carpet, though old and worn in places, was bright with color. Everything was clean and tidy, her housewifely eye noted, just old, as if all life had been suspended for the past several hundred years. Not her life. She was alive, and she intended to celebrate that fact.

  Her coral pink muslin frock was pressed into duty again. Anne gazed at her reflection in the dressing table mirror as the maid who had been assigned to her brushed her curls and caught them up with a cherry-colored ribbon. Color, at last. She might be a guest of the Templetons, but she wasn’t about to let them change her. She had worked too hard, come too far, to turn back now.

  A footman jumped to open the door of the small drawing room for Anne, and she smiled at him. Like many other country homes Anne had visited, Tremont Castle had the family apartments on the ground floor, with the State rooms above. The small drawing room wasn’t really small, except in comparison with the State Drawing Room. She was about to walk through the door, when voices came out to her. “Really, Giles!” Julia’s voice. “Why you had to invite her here.”

  Anne jumped back. “I have an obligation, Mother.” Giles’s voice, sounding surprisingly mild.

  “Far be it from me to discourage you from your duty.”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  “But even I think this is a bit much. Yes, I agree her son needs discipline. Imagine letting a child run loose the way she does! But to bring that—that servant—”

  “Mr. Freebody was overseer of Hampshire Hall.”

  “And you replaced him. Now don’t try to convince me you’re happy to see her, because it won’t fadge. Not after what she did to you. She’s as flighty and willful as ever.”

  “I’m glad to see her again.” That was Beth, soft and tentative, and Anne’s heart went out to her in gratitude. No word of support from Giles, the cad! Anne could feel her face flaming at the things Julia had said, and she was aware that the footman beside her was listening as avidly as she. It would be all over the servants’ quarters in a few minutes. Some people would say that was what she deserved for eavesdropping. Well, why not really give them something to discuss?

  Rolling her eyes at the footman, which made him snigger, she swept into the room, a ravishing smile upon her face. The three people seated near the fireplace looked up at her with varying degrees of surprise. “Your Grace. I really must thank you again for letting me stay.”

  The footman sniggered again. Julia’s eyes went past Anne to him, and then returned. “You are late. Pray, be seated. Beth, tea for Mrs. Templeton.”

  A worthy opponent, Anne thought, choosing the gold satin-striped sofa instead of the old and rather lumpy-looking brocade chair Julia had indicated. “Thank you so much. But, please, must we be so formal? After all, we are family.”

  “I prefer formality.” Julia raised a quizzing glass—a quizzing glass, for heaven’s sake!—and studied Anne through it. From anyone else, it would have been considered an insolent gesture. “What is it that you are wearing?”

  Anne looked down. “A frock.”

  “A frock, indeed.” Julia let the quizzing glass drop. “You are a widow. You should be in mourning.”

  “Frederick has been dead for over a year, Mother,” Giles said, before Anne could reply, making her look at him in surprise. Was he actually defending her?

  “Hmph.” Julia’s eyes were cold. “You always were a frivolous young miss.”

  “Yes, Your Grace.”

  “I thought marriage might settle you down, but apparently it hasn’t.”

  “I think your frock is lovely, Anne,” Beth said softly, and Anne flashed her a smile of mingled sympathy and complicity. Poor Beth, dressed in governessy gray. With her light brown hair and her pale complexion, the color made her look like a timid little mouse.

  “Thank you. Everything looks the same.” Indeed, it was all so much the same that, for a moment, Anne felt she’d stepped back in time, to when she had been a child and had visited here. The furniture that had once seen long and honorable use in the State rooms, which had been remodeled when Giles’s grandfather had made his fortune investing in the East India Company, had been consigned to the family’s private living areas. As a result, their drawing room was furnished with an oddment of items. The sofa on which she sat, of fairly recent vintage, sat cheek by jowl with a magnificent carved oak chair cushioned in red velvet, which Julia always claimed as her own. The carpet was worn, Persian, and probably priceless, and the curtains at the long narrow windows were of simple muslin. As in her room, tapestries again hung on the walls, and over the mantel were the inevitable hauberk and lance, reminding one and all that the Templetons had always fought for king and country. Theirs was a long and distinguished history, and the castle was steeped in it. It was to Julia’s credit, Anne thought, somewhat grudgingly, that she’d been able to make any part of it a home. The only complaint Anne had at the moment was the damp chill, which she’d forgotten. She wished she had a shawl, an item she hadn’t needed in Jamaica.

  As if he read her mind, Giles spoke. “You look cold. Shall we send someone for a shawl?”

  She smiled at him, absurdly grateful for this minor thoughtfulness. “Thank you, but I fear I no longer own any such thing.”

  “Oh, you may borrow one of mine,” Beth said, and Anne smilingly shook her head. She would rather freeze than wear anything as dull as Beth likely possessed. If she weren’t careful, she would become as gray as the castle, and everyone in it. What had happened to turn Giles that way?

  “I must visit a dressmaker while I am here,” she chattered. “I am so sadly lacking in clothes. Is there a good one in the village?”

  Beth, to whom she had addressed this question, looked blank. It was Giles who answered. “There’s one in Basingstoke, I believe.”

  “Oh, wonderful! You’ll come with me, won’t you, Beth? You must know far more about the current styles than I.”

  “You want me to come?” Beth said. “Really?”

  “I am not certain I can spare you, Elizabeth,” Julia said, frowning heavily. Anne was about to speak, when, at that moment, there was a great crash of metal in the hall.

  Giles jumped up. “What in the
world—”

  “Jamie,” Anne said at the same time, and ran out into the hall. She could not say how she knew that Jamie was responsible for the noise, except that all her motherly instincts were clamoring. If there were mischief, Jamie was certain to be in the middle of it.

  In the hall, Benson and the footman who had admitted Anne to the drawing room were staring in consternation, and more servants were appearing, from all over the castle. The suit of armor at the bottom of the stairs had toppled over and was in pieces. Leg pieces and arm pieces were scattered helter-skelter across the tiled floor; the hauberk had somehow landed right side up, and the helmet lay on the stairs. Protruding from the helmet, looking pitifully small, was the body of a small boy. Anne briefly closed her eyes. Oh, Jamie, and on our first day! Couldn’t you wait to get into mischief?

  “Jamie!” she said, her voice sharp, and the small arms and legs began to thrash about.

  “Mommy!” The wail echoed hollowly, making a few of the maids step back. “Mommy!”

  “Oh, good heavens.” Anne sat on a stair and reached for her son’s flailing arms. “I’m here, Jamie. Let’s get you up and out of this thing.”

  “Mrs. Templeton. Do you know how old that armor is?” Julia demanded.

  “Ancient, I imagine. Now, hold still, pet, and let’s get this helmet off.”

  “It won’t come off, Mommy. I tried.”

  “The child is a brat,” Julia said in ringing tones, and Anne looked up at Giles. It was at times like these that she most missed the presence of a father’s guiding hand for Jamie. She had not been a docile child, but she sometimes had trouble dealing with a young boy’s antics.

  “Come, James.” Giles went down on one knee before them, putting a hand on Jamie’s quivering arm. “Men don’t cry about things like this.”

  Jamie hiccupped. “I’m sc-scared.”

  “Quite. You should be. I was when I got caught in the armor.”

  Anne looked up at him in surprise. “Were you?”

  “Now, stop crying, my lad. We’re going to get you out.”

  Whether it was the masculine voice of authority that reached him, or that fact that Giles was a stranger, Jamie stilled. Only a few pitiful sniffles issued from under the helmet. “I’m sorry, Uncle Giles.”

  “And well you should be,” Julia said.

  “Hold still, James.” Giles put his hands on either side of the helmet, and pulled. Anne, her hands on Jamie’s shoulders, could feel him quivering, but he didn’t cry. Remarkable. If it had only been she dealing with this, he would have been in hysterics by now. Never mind that her own nerves weren’t quite too steady. It wasn’t fair that a stranger could control her child better than she did. “There, James, it’s coming loose. Watch your nose—here it comes, over the ears—there!”

  With a pop, the helmet came free. Jamie looked up at Giles with his huge blue eyes and then fell into Anne’s arms. “Mommy.”

  “There, pet.” Anne hugged him, rolling her eyes at Giles. To her surprise, he grinned. “You’re all right.”

  “Is the helmet dented?” Julia said loudly.

  Anne gave her a look. “Come, pet.” She rose awkwardly, Jamie a heavy burden in her arms. “You and I are going to go upstairs and we’re going to have a talk.”

  “He deserves a sound thrashing, if you ask me.”

  Anne’s lips thinned. “No one asked you, Your Grace. If you’ll excuse me?”

  “Well!” Julia exclaimed, but Anne was already on her way up to the nursery.

  It took time to get Jamie settled after his adventure, time to impress on him why he should never do such a thing again, time to find out why he had done it. Anne returned to the drawing room to find the tea tray removed and all signs of nourishment gone. And she had just bitten into a cream cake, she thought wistfully.

  “Is James all right?” Beth asked, and Anne smiled at her.

  “Yes, thank heavens. How little boys survive childhood, I don’t know. I wonder my hair hasn’t all turned gray by now.”

  “Hmph. None of my sons misbehaved like this,” Julia said. “If you would give him the spanking he deserves—”

  “I do not beat my child.” Anne’s voice was suddenly hard, making the others look at her in some surprise. “Jamie knows how to behave. He is simply an active little boy.”

  “Hmph! My boys never got into such scrapes.”

  “Actually, Giles.” Anne turned toward him, smiling. “Can you guess why he did it?”

  Giles looked surprised. “No, why should I?”

  “Because he heard me say that you’d done it, and if Uncle Giles did it it must be all right.”

  Giles’s face actually colored, to Anne’s amusement. “Did you tell him my father gave me a sound thrashing afterwards?”

  “No. I told him we all three were punished. Which, as I recall, we were.”

  “And which we deserved.” Giles’s tone was dry as he rose. “We’ll discuss that later. We keep country hours for dinner.”

  “Of course.” Anne would never have expected such a modern innovation as the late town dinner hour. “I shall just see how Jamie’s doing and then I’ll take a rest. Oh, and Beth. Perhaps if the rain lets up tomorrow we might go to Basingstoke.”

  Beth’s face lit up. “Oh, I’d like that.”

  “I will need you tomorrow, Elizabeth,” Julia said, sternly. Anne turned to her and would have spoken, but was forestalled by Giles.

  “You and I have matters to discuss, Anne. Perhaps you could put off your trip for another day.”

  “Of course.” Anne smiled graciously at them all as she rose. She knew when she was defeated. “I’ll see you at dinner, then,” she said, and, after curtsying, glided out of the room. Behind her she could hear Julia’s voice. She didn’t want to think what the old besom was saying. Imagine suggesting that she spank Jamie! Anne trembled with indignation at the thought. She had never laid a hand on her son in his life, and as for Freddie—well, that was past, and men had a different view of these things. Raising Jamie was her responsibility now, even if Giles thought he had a say in it.

  Raising her chin, Anne walked up the stairs toward her room. They were not going to change her. No matter what else the Templetons did this summer, they would not change her.

  Giles looked once again at the letter the morning post had brought, and then sat back, tapping it thoughtfully on his desk. This was an unlooked-for complication in a life already fraught with complications. Never let it be said that he would neglect his duty; however, what did one do when duty dictated two conflicting choices? He would have to do some serious thinking on this.

  In the meantime, he had quite enough problems at home. The presence of Anne and her son, not to mention her servant, in his household was already causing upheaval. Obadiah had, so he understood, scared most of the female staff into silence, though he’d said and done nothing out of the ordinary. James—well, clearly a man’s hand was needed in his upbringing. Giles had some thoughts about that. Finally, there was Anne. His house had been peaceful before she came. Now his mother was visibly ruffled—strange, she had never liked Anne—and Beth was pouting because his business with Anne today prevented their going to the shops in Basingstoke. Beth, of all people. If Anne were having such an effect on her, perhaps it would be as well to cut her visit short.

  And yet—and yet, he had liked seeing her in his drawing room last evening. He agreed with his mother about the value of old and treasured furnishings and traditions, but sometimes the effect was dull. He felt like a traitor just thinking that, but there it was. Too many old and faded tapestries, too much dark wood, too little light. Anne in her coral pink had been a welcome flash of color, something he hadn’t even realized he missed. She was energetic, alive, vivid. She was also dangerous, reminding him all too well of a time that was gone. The pain and humiliation of that moment when he’d learned that she’d married someone else were surprisingly sharp and clear, though until yesterday he’d managed to forget them. His life was procee
ding well, along well-charted paths. Yesterday he would have been content. Today, he was restless.

  There was a knock on the door and Anne came in, before he could even call for her to enter. That was the way she always had been, active, impatient, moving, and so pretty she sometimes took his breath away. Her morning gown of jonquil muslin, with its long sleeves and high neck, brightened the room as nothing else could do. With her hair bound back by a matching ribbon she looked like a jonquil herself, he thought, and then berated himself for such fancies.

  “Good morning,” he said, rising, his face a mask that gave away none of his thoughts.

  “Good morning. What a glorious day.” Anne sat in one of the leather armchairs that faced the fireplace and, after a moment, he joined her. “Isn’t it amazing how much brighter it is even in here with the sun?” She glanced around, taking in the warm colors of the Axminster carpet, the rich red leather chairs, the burnished mahogany desk. “I gather your mother had nothing to do with this room.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I don’t see anything old. Did you actually spend money on new furniture in here?”

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, don’t poker up so! I think it’s wonderful.” She regarded him curiously. “What has happened to you, Tremont? You never used to mind teasing.”

  He cleared his throat. “We have some things to discuss.”

  “Ah, yes. Your summons to me this morning. Well, discuss away, Your Grace.”

  “Are you always so flippant about things?”

  “Oh, always.”

  Giles frowned; this did not bode well. “We have some serious matters to discuss, Anne.”

  “I don’t see what. Restore Obadiah as overseer, let me manage Hampshire Hall, and agree with me that Jamie is much too young to be sent to school.”

  “You do intend to be flippant about this, then.”

  “Oh, no.” Anne looked straight at him. “I’m quite serious.”

  “Anne.” He made his voice patient. “I realize it’s been hard for you since Freddie died, but you no longer have to manage alone. A woman shouldn’t have to worry her pretty head about such things—”