Fran Keighley Page 10

  That had proved enjoyable, and as Lyndon had said, Amanda was quite human enough to appreciate how grudgingly impressed her cousins were by the attention she commanded as Mrs. Lyndon of Highbriars, even while they unfavorably compared these shops to those in London. They had never anticipated all this when they had pushed her into marriage with Julian Lyndon.

  In addition, there were the local points of interest which Amanda had scarcely had time to glimpse until now. The lovely view from Raven's Hill, the parish church with a particularly fine stained-glass window as well as impressive brasses commemorating various members of the Lyndon family, a nabob's fantastic mansion said to be the equal of the Prince Regent's Royal Pavilion. The nabob was not presently in residence there, but Lyndon advised Amanda that the housekeeper was willing to show visitors about the exotically decorated and furnished rooms, then they could stroll about in the extensive gardens planted with exotic lilies and shrubs.

  Their drive over to Devonridge for tea was saved until among the last calls, for Amanda had known with full certainty how the ducal splendor would awe them. That would be the pièce de résistance!

  Amanda herself was now familiar enough with the mansion to at least seem to treat it casually, and to know her way about provided she stayed in the main rooms and corridors. The warmth of her welcome, from all ranging from the dignified butler to Lord Devonridge himself, did indeed crown all else which had marked the visit. A welcome by tradesmen at shops was well enough, but in no sense equaled that of a doughty old duke!

  Amanda could sense Eliza's fury that it had been Amanda, and not herself, who had married Julian Lyndon, and that fury and disappointment was no less deep for having to be disguised beneath a show of affection and ladylike demeanor.

  Lady Cordelia had always reproved Amanda for failing to utilize friendship with Lord Devonridge's granddaughter to ingratiate herself with more highly placed members of the family. Lady Cordelia could no longer complain at that, and she and her daughters were busily flattering their way into this circle. Lady Cordelia was in high good humor, accepting the duke's praise of Amanda as compliments to her guardianship.

  "I believe, between us, we made an excellent match," her ladyship said, with confidential archness, to the duke. "The improvement in both young persons is quite marked, is it not? They appear to bring out the best in one another; I believe it is often so, in successful matches. I am sure that my Maria and her intended will be just such another pair! And that marriage, you must know, will leave me with only my dearest Eliza and little Selina, who is still in the schoolroom. And you, I believe, have only one grandson left, Mr. Gerald Lyndon? He has been kind enough to call twice, and," leaning forward to give the duke's arm a significant tap with her folded fan, "I believe he and my Eliza are most taken with one another. Ah! I should miss her sadly, but how perfect it would be for Eliza and Amanda to be settled near one another, after these past years, as close as sisters."

  Amanda, overhearing, felt horrified at the very thought, and she was glad of the long training she had endured, to control her features. Close as sisters? Well, in view of the fierce arguments between Maria and Harriet and Eliza, perhaps so.

  Lord Devonridge looked benign; Lyndon might scorn Eliza, but to a high stickler of the old school, Eliza would pass as a reasonably attractive, very pretty-behaved young lady of good family. Not to compare with the Lyndons of Devonridge, of course, but acceptable as a bride for a lesser member of the family.

  * * *

  At last Lady Cordelia and her daughters prepared to resume their journey on to London. However, their departure was flawed by Lady Cordelia's affable promise that Eliza might soon return for a true visit. Amanda foresaw Eliza settling permanently at Highbriars, and she pledged to avoid that at all costs.

  "If worst comes to worst, love, I can always scare her away by pretending to make love to her," Lyndon said teasingly. "That would do it!"

  "I pray you won't!" Amanda said tartly. "Completely overlooking my position, it wouldn't answer; Eliza would run to Gerald for protection, lure him into marriage, and then carry tales to your grandpapa to put him quite out of charity with you once more!"

  He grinned at her. "As you say! How fortunate I am to have you to help me think of such considerations! At all accounts, if Gerald does go to this precious party of theirs, and remains fixed in London for any period, that should tie them there. Is he attracted to Eliza, do you think? What do you suppose the attraction could be?"

  "He perceives in her a beautiful soul," Amanda said quite loftily, and giggled at Lyndon's outraged expression. "I don't know, dearest! But perhaps they are most sincerely attracted to each other. He is grandson of a duke, which looms large with her, I can assure you, and as for him-she has attracted other gentlemen in the past."

  Lyndon looked skeptical. "That's as may be-and you can't gammon me that her soul is beautiful, Mrs. Lyndon! More, last time that I noticed his activities in town, he was dangling after an accredited beauty, and I shouldn't think Eliza's charms are such as to drag him away."

  Amanda had to concede that, but soon she thought that she might see an explanation. "Paying court to a beauty is fashionable, is it not? But mayn't a gentleman do so, fully realizing the impossibility of his suit being acceptable to her, or to her mama and papa-I refer to one such as your cousin, lacking wealth or prospects, and possessing only ordinary personal appeal and a competence-and look far lower for a wife? To feel more comfortable, in fact, with a less attractive bride who feels herself fortunate to wed him, rather than a beauty who has been pampered by constant flattery and cosseting?"

  If Lyndon applied that to himself and Isabella Hollingcourt-well, so be it. It was quite true!

  "Now that is very possible," Lyndon granted, looking thoughtful. "Yes, I can quite see that- plus the fact you've found such favor with my esteemed Grandpapa that Gerald might consider wedding your cousin could tip the scales in his favor, should there again be question of disinheriting me. Though I trust that will not occur."

  "I pray not, sir," Amanda said severely, though her eyes danced. "Oh, Lyndon! Whatever his motives, how lovely to have them all gone, to have our home to ourselves again!"

  * * *

  Chapter Ten

  Such was not to be. That very afternoon, the groom brought the mail, which among other things, called Lyndon away.

  "Bennington is selling his stable, at least a good part of it," he looked up to report to Amanda, reading rapidly. "Hmm, I knew he had been losing heavily at the cards, but I didn't think he was reduced this far. You know the style of his cattle, my love, and he breeds them himself. This is the very chance for me to pick up some prime breeding stock, but I mustn't delay."

  "Certainly not," Amanda said stoutly. "Shall you be gone long, do you think?" How excellent for Lyndon, but she would miss him greatly, during his absence.

  He shrugged. "Perhaps a week. I shall take my curricle, and with good roads, perhaps even less time will be required. He glanced up again from the letter, to look at her. "And you, love, should you care to go as far as Town with me? Attend your cousin's party, see your friends, and shop a bit?"

  Amanda hesitated, tempted. It would be lovely to have a short journey with him, before and after London, see Sally Warrenby and some of her other friends, show off her newfound elegance a bit, but...

  "No, I'll remain here," she told him. "You will travel faster alone. I shall be busy here; there were many things I put off doing while we had guests. Shall you purchase much, do you suppose? If you can send a messenger ahead to notify me of your return and purchases, I will have stabling readied for them."

  He gave her a quick hug and glanced a kiss off her temple. "That's my sweet. To be sure. No, it depends on what he wishes to sell. I shall try to limit myself to the breeding stock, not his prime riding and driving cattle. I'll start at tomorrow's dawn. I hope others of similar mind do not arrive before me to skim the cream of his stables. I have every hope of being the first- comer."

  * * *


  The house seemed large, silent, and very lonely during the days of Lyndon's absence, and their bed seemed huge and empty at night.

  This is all nonsense, Amanda firmly told herself; Lyndon was frequently out of the house by day and it didn't seem untoward then, so why should it now? Moreover, for how many years had she slept alone, in a far less comfortable bed? Her imagination was excited, that was all.

  Although she felt a pang as she told herself so, it was all too possible that Lyndon would tire of quiet married life in the country. That was new to him now, and therefore entertaining, but if it turned dull he might return to Town, and she would find herself alone much of the time.

  Wasn't that what she had originally expected? Even hoped? Living alone with her children would have been preferable to a husband who was abhorrent. But, wed to Julian Lyndon was quite different.

  Well, she had best occupy herself and grow accustomed to it, showing Lyndon a pleasant, loving face when he was with her, and not repining when he was not. Theirs was a marriage of convenience, after all, and he had been far more considerate and companionable than she'd had any reason to hope.

  So by day, Amanda drove herself to fill every idle moment, gladly accepting the Nesbitts invitation to dinner one evening early in the week of Lyndon's absence, spending the night there rather than driving home by moonlight. The strange bed seemed less lonely without Lyndon to snuggle against. She went shopping with Marianne Nesbitt before she returned home to Highbriars. Another day was occupied going to Devonridge for tea, and being persuaded to remain for dinner, and then for the night there, as well. That visit was less enjoyable. Would she ever feel truly close to Eulalia and Lady Mathilda? Still, Amanda had become fond of Lord Devonridge, who counted for most, and that, plus her days in charge of the household between Humphrey's death and funeral, enabled her to feel more at ease in Devonridge Court. The Red Room began to feel quite homelike to her. Still, its association with the second night of her marriage made it, particularly its bed, seem big and empty without Lyndon.

  The evenings that she did spend at home, Amanda filled by reading, as the novels filled her mind, allowing her no time to think, as embroidering handkerchiefs for Lyndon unfortunately did.

  Her pets provided an enjoyable distraction. The calico cat and her kittens now spent as much time indoors as out, always willing to curl, purring, on a lap. The pug puppy was a tiny clown, and ferociously growled and yipped in pursuit of the kittens. They then, like as not, took turns chasing the puppy. They pounced out at it, backs arched, tails fuzzed, and at game's end all flopped down to nap together in perfect harmony, the puppy using the feline family as a furry pillow.

  During those romps, Amanda lay down her book to watch, laughing at their antics and again blessing Marianne for giving her the puppy, and the late Louisa Lyndon for having kept cats. What companionship and entertainment they provided.

  Some evenings Amanda read in the library, or up in her cozy boudoir, while other evenings she chose to go to her bed early, banking pillows around for support and lighting a branch of candles drawn conveniently close to bedside. The puppy snored in his cushioned basket by the bed, and the cats disposed themselves about her, some warming her feet, others beside her or on her lap, convenient to her hand, should she feel like petting. True luxury, she told herself. After a girlhood spent under Lady Cordelia's roof, she would never take for granted having the pets she had always longed for, or being able to light all the candles she pleased, with a fire in her bedchamber even when nights were not particularly cold.

  Even so, how welcome Lyndon's return would be, to have someone across the dining table or tea table, able to share in the trivial happenings of everyday life, and to be amused by the frequent ridiculous events, not to mention having him in their bed once more, hearing his regular breathing when she woke in the night, and feeling the warmth of his body and pleasurable thrill of his caresses.

  * * *

  As the week progressed, Amanda grew yet more impatient to have Lyndon return, for the passing days turned a suspicion into near-certainty: she was with child.

  How tempting it had been to whisper the news to Lady Mathilda, or to confide it to Marianne during the time she spent with them, but Lyndon must be the first to know.

  Would he be happy at the prospect of fatherhood, she wondered. Whether he had any great interest in babies as such, (and how many young men did, before actually coming to love their firstborn?), this would surely solidify his position with his grandfather.

  Yes. Lyndon must return quickly and be told the good news. He himself must be the one to inform Lord Devonridge.

  And yet, how would her pregnancy affect this warm relationship which they now had? He could find her morning nausea and thickening body repellent. Some women, when increasing, grew peevish and petulant. Certainly her cousin Harriet had. Amanda vowed that she would not. She must always show Lyndon a pleasant face.

  In any case, with his grandfather appeased, would Lyndon return to the pleasures and excitements of Town, to Isabella Hollingcourt, all but forgetting her again?

  He easily might, Amanda thought fearfully; that was what she had originally expected, in marrying him: to live quietly in the country with her children, seeing him only briefly and rarely. His visits would be only long enough to get her in the family way yet again.

  While once that might have been enough to satisfy (indeed, it might have been most desirable, had they taken one another in aversion) after these honeymoon weeks of laughing and loving together, the thought now sank her in profound despair.

  Almost, Amanda was tempted to postpone telling him, to wait until she was positive and her figure-changes made it impossible to keep secret.

  But no. That would be unfair to him.

  Perhaps he, too, had found their marriage unexpectedly pleasurable. Oh, surely he had. He couldn't feign, wouldn't bother to feign, all the jokes they shared, the casual companionship.

  Still, Amanda wished it were all behind her, telling him and learning how their life together would be affected.

  * * *

  After days of fretting, days that seemed as endless as years, Amanda saw the familiar sight of Lyndon's curricle bowling up the curving drive. She hurried out to meet him on the front steps as he drew to a stop on the graveled sweep.

  At last! Whatever his reaction, it would be a relief to have the suspense ended.

  He was in such high good humor that it was obvious his trip had gone well. He was travel- stained and weary, but his eyes were bright, and he had a parcel securely done up which he presented to her with a flourish.

  "The latest novels, my love!" He sniffed hungrily. "Am I too late for tea? I've made a mighty push, I can tell you, to reach here before nightfall and sleep in my own bed tonight." With my own wife, his laughing eyes added.

  "Indeed you're not too late, sir," Amanda assured him, with an instructive glance at the housemaid hovering at the back of the hall. "Your tea will be ready directly. Your errand met with success, then?"

  "Most excellent success." He followed her into the drawing room and flung himself, with a sigh of content, into his favorite chair. "Home! Wait till you see them, love. Fisher is bringing them by easy stages, but they should arrive by this time tomorrow. I did snare some rare beauties, I can tell you, and I was able to get more than I expected, for the amount I had to spend. Brood mares, and young 'uns-and a very neat little golden chestnut mare which I fancy will be just the thing for you to ride. Quite gentle, beautiful manners, but not a bit of a slug. You'll find that sitting your own horse is a vast improvement over going everywhere by coach, like an old lady."

  "I'm sure I shall," Amanda said warmly, her eyes shining. What a handsome gift a fine saddle-mare was. "But I fear that for these next few months I shall have to forego that pleasure. In my condition..." She paused, both hopeful and shy.

  "In your-?" He stared, then a slow grin spread. "Amanda, love, you are never telling me...? You're increasing? Are you certain? Have you
told the old gentleman yet?"

  "No, I wouldn't tell anyone before you!" she said indignantly. "Yes, well, I'm very nearly certain. It's early yet, but I thought you should be the first to know, and the one to tell your grandpapa. Do you wish to go to Devonridge Court, or shall we invite him over to tea, and to see your new horses, and tell him then?"

  Lyndon nodded thoughtfully. "That might prove best. We will send the groom over with a note, bidding him for-when? Two days hence? Three? That gives time for the horses to arrive and settle a bit, and our great news will be no less great for waiting. Ah, my tea. Tell me the rest of your news, the lesser news, whilst I eat."

  Amanda poured and passed him his tea, strong and sugared and creamed to his taste and handed him his plate of neat small sandwiches, then as he ate and drank, she related the numerous minor incidents which had occurred during his absence. They were both very conscious of their future parenthood, and frequently interrupted themselves to ask or comment upon it.

  "And your trip, sir," Amanda queried as he slackened in eating. "Did you stop over in London? What of Sally? Did you see her?"

  "Indeed I did, both going and returning," he assured her. "To be sure. Lord, she'd have had my ears, had she learned I'd been in Town without paying her a call. She charged me with all manner of messages for you. I'll find the list of them presently. It was she who chose the novels for you. And then we met again, at your charming cousin's betrothal party. Lord, what an insipid affair. Only knowing Sally would be there made it bearable. But we both knew you'd wish word of it."

  That was true; Amanda wished their accounts of the party, at any rate, knowing those would be both accurate and maliciously amusing. How well she could imagine the Eliza that Lyndon described.

  "Lord, love, she was pea-green with jealousy, and she was ill-put to disguise it. You should have seen her curdled smile, and attempting to make the most of Gerald's presence."

  "Oh, Gerald attended, did he? Is he interested in Eliza, then, do you suppose?"