know how to behave with his friends.’
‘Yes, perhaps you are right,’ Lucy said. ‘He has grieved for his brother too long. I, too, have suffered, but with you today...and before Paul came in...it was as if all the sadness had melted away and a load was lifted from my heart.’
Jenny smiled and leaned forward to kiss her cheek. ‘I thought you seemed happier, dearest. I shall visit you and your mama one day before we leave Ravenscar—and you must come here again whenever you wish.’
‘I am not sure that Paul would wish it,’ Lucy said a little stiffly. ‘It is, after all, his home and...I do not think he was happy to see me here.’ Her throat caught for she felt hurt, as if by his manner he denied everything that had ever been between them.
‘He is just a little awkward,’ Jenny assured her. ‘Paul was always your friend. I am sure another day he will seek you out and apologise. It is just awkwardness, I believe.’
‘Perhaps,’ Lucy said and squeezed her hand. ‘Now I must go. Please come for luncheon one day, if you can manage it, Jenny.’
Jenny promised she would. They went out to the waiting carriage; the steps were let down, a footman assisted her into the carriage and she was driven away. She waved to Jenny once and then leaned back against the squabs. Her eyes closed and she felt them sting, as if the tears were close.
What had she expected of Paul? Something different to the reserve he had shown towards her.
It was all very well for Jenny to say that Paul was just feeling strange to be home again, but she had seen him twice now and on neither occasion had he seemed pleased to see her. Indeed, when he saw that she was still in his house at teatime, he had looked grim—even angry.
She had thought that he might come to her in Italy, for he had spoken of being her friend before he went away after Mark died; he had even hinted that he cared for her...as she had cared for him. Now it seemed that he had raised a barrier between them, perhaps so that she should not imagine he had tender feelings for her.
Perhaps he never had...
Whatever the truth, it was clear to Lucy that he had forgotten her. She must close her heart to him and look for someone she could like well enough to marry. There must surely be someone she could bear to live with every day in the closeness of marriage?
For a moment the handsome, teasing face of George Daventry entered her mind. He was very charming, but Lucy suspected she was not the only lady to find herself the object of his attention.
He would flirt with her, pay her compliments and be a charming partner at a dance, but she did not imagine that he was thinking of making her an offer. Besides, she believed he had estates in the north and west of England, and she had already decided that she did not wish to go so far from her family.
Chapter Three
‘Ah, here you are, my love,’ Lady Dawlish greeted her with a smile as she went into the house. ‘I hope you had a pleasant day?’
‘Yes, indeed, Mama,’ Lucy said, taking off her bonnet and shawl. Removing her gloves, she glanced up at her mother. ‘Jenny begged me to have luncheon with her—and then she wanted me to stay to tea. Captain Miller returned before tea and he brought a guest with him—the Earl of Daventry.’
‘Oh?’ Lady Dawlish raised her eyebrows. ‘I should not have thought they wished for many guests in the house at the moment.’
‘Captain Ravenscar said that they would not entertain while his father is ill, but the earl said he did not wish for entertainment. He spoke of riding out with Adam to look at some horses and...and he may decide to call on us, Mama.’
‘Indeed? How charming of him,’ her mother said. ‘He will be most welcome to stay for nuncheon or tea if he so wishes.’
‘Yes, I thought he might like to spend a little time here, for it is a little awkward at Ravenscar.’
‘Yes, I dare say it may be,’ Lady Dawlish agreed thoughtfully. ‘Captain Ravenscar must be wishing him to the devil. Adam is his cousin, of course, and Jenny is such a capable and kind young woman. I dare say Lord Ravenscar would not like to lose her. Maids are all very well, but when one is ill it is good to have one’s friends about one.’
‘Lord Ravenscar seemed a little stronger when I visited him today,’ Lucy told her. ‘I feel very sad for him, Mama. Jenny says the doctor believes it a matter of weeks. It is only because he wanted to see Paul home that he has clung so tenaciously to life but...I fear he may not last much longer.’ She felt her throat catch and wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘Paul will feel it so much...I think he can hardly bear to lose his father...’
‘Why did he not return months ago?’ Lady Dawlish shook her head over it. ‘He might have had so much longer with his father had he done so.’
‘Perhaps he simply could not bear it,’ Lucy suggested. ‘It was a long time before I could bear to remember Mark...and I was apprehensive the first time I visited his father.’
‘Well, we must pray that Lord Ravenscar makes a recovery. Yes, 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.
