‘That is hardly fair, dear,’ she countered swiftly. ‘You’ve Sarah to thank for arranging almost everything. And she was even kind enough to give up her room so that you could invite more people than was originally planned.’
‘What’s this?’ her son demanded, suddenly alert. ‘I thought we’d agreed that in the circumstances it was to be only a small affair?’
‘Well, yes, Charles, we did. But you must remember that poor Drusilla has had to forgo the pleasures of a Season. And when we began to make a list of those we knew we simply must invite, the numbers just seemed to swell.’
‘How many have you invited?’ he demanded, frowning suspiciously.
‘One hundred and fifty,’ Drusilla enlightened him, looking very well pleased. ‘It will be a splendid party, not the shabby little affair you had planned, Charles.’
Sebastian, quietly sipping the wine which the butler had kindly handed him, couldn’t resist smiling to himself. Somewhere at the back of his mind he seemed to remember Charles mentioning once that his mother had suffered several miscarriages after having given birth to him, and more than a decade had passed before she had been successfully delivered of another healthy child. Little wonder, then, he mused, that the long awaited second offspring had been cosseted and indulged from birth. It was clear that even now the beauty of the house was all too frequently allowed to have her way; a sorry state of affairs which her brother, if his expression was any indication, would very much like to rectify.
‘Let me remind you, Drusilla, that our father has been dead for less than a year. I consider it in extremely bad taste to hold such a large party, although I suppose it’s far too late to do anything about it now.’
‘Much too late,’ his mother agreed. ‘And you mustn’t concern yourself, Charles. The event might be grander than first planned, but Drusilla knows that she must behave with propriety and not dance.’
Although Sebastian noted the beauty’s resentful expression, her brother evidently did not, for he changed the subject by asking, ‘Where is Sarah, by the way?’
If anything Drusilla appeared even more resentful. ‘She’s staying with the Stapletons. And just when we need her here the most!’
‘Well, you can hardly blame her, my love,’ Lady Deverel soothed. ‘I myself did not quite like the notion of the dear girl sleeping in one of the attic rooms.’
‘What’s this?’ Charles fixed a reproachful look in his mother’s direction. ‘Surely you didn’t expect Sarah to sleep with the servants?’
‘Of course not, dear,’ Lady Deverel swiftly assured him. ‘Sarah herself very obligingly offered to give up her bedchamber, and I was more than happy for her to stay with her friend for a few days, rather than move to one of the attic rooms.’
Sebastian noticed the look of disapproval lingering in his friend’s eyes. As he himself had been an only child, he had never been plagued by troublesome siblings or family squabbles. The closest he had ever come to having a sister was his cousin Caroline, who had been a frequent visitor to his Hampshire home in her childhood.
He had accepted this invitation to stay at the Hall with the gravest misgivings, for he had made a point, since coming into the title, of never accepting invitations to houses where a daughter of marriageable age resided, for the simple reason that seeking a suitable bride had never once entered his thoughts, and he had tried his utmost to avoid raising false hopes in any fond mama’s breast. All the same, he was beginning to think that, apart from the serious aspect of this visit, it might well prove to be an amusing diversion putting up with the Deverels.
Whether or not he would derive the same amount of pleasure out of coming into contact with a certain other young lady again, only time would tell.
Chapter Three
The following day, as she was crossing the hall, Emily noticed the letters collected from the receiving office that morning lying on the table. There was one for herself from a friend whom she had made while attending that seminary for a year, and with whom she corresponded on a regular basis, and there were two for her grandfather.
Slipping her own missive into the pocket of her gown to read later, she carried her grandfather’s letters into the library, where she discovered him, as expected, seated behind his desk, metal-rimmed spectacles perched on the tip of his thin nose, avidly studying a musty old tome. As he made no attempt to raise his head to discover who had invaded the privacy of his sanctum, Emily availed herself of the opportunity to study him for a moment, unobserved.
Silver-grey hair swept back from a high forehead that clearly betrayed the intelligence of a man who throughout his life had made many sound investments which had enabled him to live very comfortably indeed, and pursue his many and varied hobbies. His vagueness, as she well knew, was merely a ruse, a means by which he could acquire the solitude he valued so highly. He was essentially a very private gentleman who preferred his own company, but he also enjoyed the companionship of his particular friends from time to time, and was not averse, on the odd occasion, to attending some large social event.
Which was perhaps just as well, Emily reflected, as she moved further into the room, because he was going to be obliged to mix with a large crowd this evening, if what Sarah had divulged was true. ‘Finn called at the receiving office after he had taken Sarah over to the Hall in the carriage, Grandfather, and there are two letters here for you,’ she informed him, placing the missives on the edge of a desk littered with papers, and numerous objects of no practical use whatsoever.
Lined with musty-smelling books, and various stuffed birds glaring down from the glass cases positioned on the various shelves, the whole room, not just the desk, was an absolute shambles. It was only ever dusted two or three times a year, and then only in the Honourable John Stapleton’s presence, so that he could be certain nothing was moved. It had to be said, however, that in general he knew precisely where to lay his hands on any particular book or document. It was acknowledged too that he was a fount of wisdom, knowing a great deal about numerous subjects.
As he didn’t attempt to speak, Emily cast her eyes along one row of thick, leather-bound books, before her gaze strayed to a particularly fearsome-looking specimen in one of the glass cases on the shelf above. ‘Grandfather, you know a deal about birds.’ This succeeded in winning her a brief glance. ‘Are there any ravens in Kempton Wood?’
‘Never seen any myself. Plenty of rooks there. Why do you ask?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, no reason really. I just recall someone mentioning that he’d seen a raven there, that was all.’
‘Might have done.’ Surprisingly she had succeeded in winning his full attention. ‘Seem to remember that at one time it was known as Ravens Wood. Here, pass me that map in the box over there—the longest one, this end.’
Thus adjured, Emily collected the map, and then handed it to her grandfather to unroll and spread out on top of the papers on his desk. ‘There, what did I tell you,’ he announced, prodding a spot on the map with one bony finger. ‘Now, let me see…Ah, yes! This map was printed in 1715. So it was known as Ravens Wood less than a century ago.’
‘I wonder what made them change the name?’ Emily asked, perching herself on the edge of the desk, the better to check the detail for herself.
‘Names of places sometimes change, child. And Kempton itself has grown considerably in size during the past one hundred
