consequences. Judging from his experience in the past, life with Deborah would always consist of a succession of crises, a far cry from his own calm, well-judged existence. But all the same, without feeling himself in the slightest danger, he found the manner in which her face could light up with joy very appealing.
They had been sitting with their backs to the house, taking advantage of the splendid view, but turned when they heard voices behind them.
‘Deborah! What a surprise! Where did you find her, Hugo?’
The visitors to Stoke Park had returned. Lady Perceval was hurrying over the lawn to greet her unexpected guest, closely followed by Lady Elizabeth and the rest of the family. There followed a series of huggings and kissings and exclamations as Deborah was passed from one to the other. The Perceval girls in particular greeted their cousin with the greatest possible affection. Deborah held a special place in their hearts, and though she was by no means the youngest of them they had all always regarded her as someone in need of special care and protection. It was some time since they had seen her and they exclaimed at the change in her appearance.
‘Girls, girls, be quiet!’ said Lady Elizabeth. ‘I am sure you mean well, but I think you forget your manners! Deborah has had a trying time these past years, but it cannot be pleasant for her to hear your tactless comments.’
‘But she’s so pale and thin, Mama!’ cried Henrietta, the youngest and liveliest of the Vicar’s four daughters.
‘That is quite enough, Henrietta!’ Lady Elizabeth took Deborah’s hands in hers. ‘My dear, as you can see, we are all delighted that you’ve come at last. But surely you were not due for another two days? I would never have accepted the Vernons’ invitation if I had known you were coming today. You must have thought us very remiss. How did you come? And what have you done with all your possessions?’
‘I…I’m sorry, Aunt. I…I…’
Hugo came to Deborah’s aid. ‘Deborah has been well taken care of, I assure you, Aunt Elizabeth. And Nanny Humble is looking after the rest of their goods and chattels. They should all be here at any moment.’
As if on cue, a servant came out to tell Lady Perceval that the carriage with Mrs Humble and a number of goods had arrived in the courtyard. Deborah excused herself and hurried off ahead of the others. She wished to make sure that Nanny Humble did not reveal the facts behind her unconventional arrival in Abbot Quincey before she had had time to prepare her aunt for it. Hugo had divined her purpose and she was grateful to see that he was delaying her aunt and Lady Perceval with questions about the Vernons.
Chapter Two
Nanny Humble was not in the most cooperative of moods. She was too old, she said, to be traipsing about the countryside in a dogcart, then left to while her time away in an ill-kept inn with a landlord who couldn’t wait to get rid of her, while Miss Deborah went off into the blue with that dratted dog and that heathen-tongued bird, leaving her to wonder whether she’d ever see her young mistress again… If Miss Deborah knew how much… Deborah recognised the anxiety behind the angry words, and dealt gently with her old servant. She managed to cut the tirade short without causing further offence, begging Nanny Humble to leave complaints and explanations till later.
‘I’m sorry our journey was so uncomfortable, Nanny dear. But we’re nearly at the Vicarage now, and we’ll soon be in our old rooms.’
‘Her ladyship is very kind, Miss Deborah. But it’s different now. I’m sure I don’t know what’s to become of us…’ Nanny Humble’s voice wavered and Deborah put her arms round her.
‘We’ll be safe here in Abbot Quincey. Try not to worry. Look, here comes Lady Elizabeth. Remember, not a word to her of our recent difficulties—you must leave it to me to tell her about them later. Not now.’
Lady Elizabeth greeted Deborah’s old servant and asked how she was. Then, turning to her sister-in-law, she suggested that Mrs Humble should wait in the servants’ quarters while they finished their talk with Deborah. Lady Perceval readily agreed.
‘I think a drink of something cool would be welcome on such a hot day, would it not, Mrs Humble? My housekeeper will take care of you until Miss Deborah is ready to go to the Vicarage. Shall we say an hour? Come, Deborah! I cannot wait to hear your adventures.’
More chairs and cushions were brought out and the two families settled once again in the shade of the cedar. Frederica and Edwina each took one of Deborah’s hands and towed her gently to one of the benches. Here they sat her down between them, expressing in their soft voices their delight at seeing her, and showing their loving concern for her. She felt herself relax. Here at Abbot Quincey she felt…cherished. She looked at them all. The Percevals were a tall, blond race with a remarkable family resemblance. Sir James and his wife, the owners of Perceval Hall, were on a garden seat opposite her, enjoying the cool shade of the cedar. Hugo, their elder son, stood behind them, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Hester, their only daughter, so like Hugo in appearance, was perched on the arm of her parents’ seat. It was quite normal for Hester to seem quiet and withdrawn in company, but today she looked pale and preoccupied, and kept casting anxious glances in the direction of the drive. Deborah wondered what was wrong. She made a note to ask Hugo later. On another bench to the right sat Sir James’s brother, the Reverend William Perceval and his wife, the Lady Elizabeth, Deborah’s aunt. Aunt Elizabeth, the elder daughter of the Duke of Inglesham, was always the same—narrow, aristocratic face, upright posture, dressed plainly but with exquisite neatness. Today her normally somewhat severe expression was softened. Though she was a strict parent, with impossibly high standards of behaviour, Lady Elizabeth had a loving, caring heart. She had invited Deborah to make her home at the Vicarage some time ago, and was now obviously happy to see her niece in Abbot Quincey at last. Deborah smiled. For the first time in many months she felt secure.
She was trying to decide how best to present the story of her arrival in Abbot Quincey when she was forestalled. Lowell Perceval came bounding across the lawn, closely followed by the youngest of the Vicarage girls, Deborah’s cousin Henrietta.
‘I say, Deborah! Whose is the parrot? And where’s the dog?’
Deborah wondered, not for the first time, why Hugo’s younger brother was so unlike him. Lowell was rather like Autolycus. Enthusiastic, reckless, he never seemed to consider the consequences of his actions, but plunged in, scattering all before him. She was still wrestling with what to say when Hugo once again came to her rescue.
‘The parrot is mine. And the dog is asleep in the stables, not to be disturbed.’ When Hugo spoke in that tone of voice even Lowell subsided. He sat down on the lawn and looked at his brother with eager curiosity, reminding Deborah even more of her dog.
‘You have a parrot, Hugo?’ Lady Perceval asked, turning in amazement towards her son. ‘Did you buy it in Northampton? It must have been on impulse, surely. You didn’t mention it before you went.’
Deborah directed a pleading glance at Hugo and said, ‘I… I brought the parrot with me, Lady Perceval. I… I gave it to Hugo.’
‘How nice,’ said Lady Perceval, a touch faintly.
‘It’s a beautiful bird,’ said Lowell. ‘And it talks. But—’
‘Yes, quite!’ said Hugo, directing another quelling glance at Lowell. ‘I have no intention of leaving it where it is, Mama. It is merely on its way to someone who will appreciate it, I think. Deborah, perhaps we should explain to Aunt Elizabeth that an unfortunate accident prevented your carrier from bringing you all the way to Abbot
