Page 7 of The Reckless Love of an Heir (The Marlow Family Secrets #4)

Susan walked down the stairs, carrying her bonnet and cloak. The bonnet bounced against the skirt of her dress with the pace of her steps as she held it by the ribbons.

Alethea stood in the hall below, already wearing her bonnet, but she was not looking up to chase Susan into hurrying, but looking down at a letter.

‘What is it?’ Susan called.

‘It is from Sarah.’ Alethea looked up and met Susan’s gaze. ‘We cannot go. She says Henry intends to remain in his rooms and so he said it would be a waste of time for me to come.’

‘Why?’

‘He is feeling too ill. He does not wish to dress but merely lie abed and rest his shoulder.’

‘He did look pale yesterday.’

‘I know. I felt so sorry for him. I would sit by his bed and keep him company but I suppose it is not the thing, is it?’

‘And if he has taken laudanum he will probably wish to sleep.’

‘I suppose. ’

But Susan had been looking forward to going over to Farnborough to continue her painting and the carriage had already been called.

‘Mama!’ Alethea called across the hall when their mother appeared from the drawing room. ‘We cannot go. Henry is feeling too unwell.’

‘But I would like to go to paint, Mama,’ Susan said. ‘Do you think I might? I was looking forward to painting again today and Uncle Robert said he did not mind my using the library at all for a whole fortnight.’

Her mother smiled. ‘If you wish to go, there will be no harm in it, I am sure.’

Susan looked at Alethea, awaiting an offer to accompany her. There was still Sarah and Christine to visit, and after all Susan had only begun her painting project to accompany Alethea.

Alethea turned away and walked towards the drawing room, with Sarah’s letter held tightly in her hand.

Susan looked at her mother. Her mother was very like Alethea in temperament and she always gravitated towards her most exuberant daughter. She turned to Alethea, lifting a comforting arm to offer reassurance. ‘Alethea. Dear. I am sure he will be well enough to see you again soon.’

Susan loved her mother dearly but they had never understood one another particularly. Susan was more like her father in nature.

She turned to their butler. ‘Dodds, do not send the carriage away, I will be going, but will you call for a maid?’

Dodds bowed slightly. ‘Shall I help you with your cloak, miss?’ He held out a hand.

She put on her bonnet and tied the ribbons, then turned so he could set her cloak across her shoulders. She secured it herself while Dodds opened the door for her .

‘Susan…’ Her father entered the hall from a door leading out to the rear of the house and the stables. ‘Where is Alethea? Is she not ready? I expected to see her galloping with excitement to call on Henry.’

‘He is too unwell for callers. I am going so I may continue to paint.’

His bushy white eyebrows lifted, and the ends of his waxed moustache twitched. ‘Alone?’

‘It is only to Uncle Robert’s. It is but a couple of miles and I am taking a maid.’

His forehead furrowed.

Susan held her breath.

‘And Susan is responsible enough to manage herself, Casper. Let her go.’ Susan looked at her mother who had returned from the drawing room.

Only days before, her mother had been afraid of highwaymen. Obviously Susan’s responsible nature would frighten them away. Or perhaps it was the ridiculous anomaly she presented.

Her hand lifted to slide her spectacles further up her nose.

Her father looked at her. ‘Very well, you may go.’

‘Thank you, Papa.’ She wrapped her arms about his neck, and his arms came about her, knocking her bonnet loose so it tumbled off her head and rolled down to hang from the ribbons about her neck.

‘Enjoy your day,’ he said into her ear.

‘I shall immensely.’ They let each other go. ‘And at the end of the fortnight I will show you my endeavours. I am quite pleased with myself.’

‘Bless you.’ His fingertips touched her cheek.

She turned away, without putting her bonnet back on, and walked out through the open door.

Dodds was speaking with one of the footmen.

She had a sense that he had bestowed a warning for the men escorting her to take greater care as she travelled alone with only a maid to guard her reputation.

The maid had already taken her place on the seat beside the coachman.

She smiled at Dodds when he opened the door of the carriage, accepted his hand and climbed up.

Within the carriage she righted her bonnet as Dodds shut the door. Then they were away.

She had not travelled in the carriage alone before.

Her heart pulsed quickly as she stared out of the window watching the passing view around the brim of her bonnet.

The tall remains of the walls of the ruined abbey in Farnborough’s grounds peaked above the trees in the distance. The abbey marked the border of Uncle Robert’s land and Henry’s cousin Rob’s property. She had known Rob since her childhood too, his father was also a friend of her father’s.

She liked Rob. He was quieter than Henry and not self-obsessed. She liked Rob’s wife too. Though Caro shied away from crowds and strangers, Susan saw them frequently at her parents’ and Aunt Jane’s dinner parties.

The road followed the wall which surrounded Uncle Robert’s estate. It stretched for miles, but they were not following it all the way. It broke at the main gateway and the carriage turned to pass between the open iron gates and the giant lion statues guarding the entrance.

The carriage slowed when the gatekeeper came out of his lodge, but as soon as he saw her father’s emblem on the side he waved them on.

The drive to the house from the gate seemed nearly as long as the journey had been from her home. But it was pretty this time of year, with the huge horse-chestnut trees covered in white flowers.

Excitement gathered inside her .

Her new project was stimulating. She was not very good at idleness, and embroidery and sewing were really not her calling.

As the carriage passed beneath the arch into the courtyard, she smiled at herself when her reflection appeared in the glass for a moment.

Perhaps she was like Alethea in some ways; she had just admitted she was no good at being idle.

Uncle Robert walked out of the house, surrounded by three of the dogs. Not Samson.

He stood still as the carriage turned and drew to a halt, then came forward and opened the door.

‘I thought Henry had sent word to say do not come.’ He looked beyond Susan, clearly seeking Alethea, but then he held out his hand to aid Susan’s descent as the dogs barked their greeting.

The hand that released Susan raised and silenced the dogs.

‘He did, but I was ready and I wished to come and paint anyway. You do not mind?’

‘Of course not, you know you are welcome. Come, I shall escort you in before I go about my business.’

The dogs walked beside them, tails swishing in the air.

She did not see Aunt Jane, Sarah or Christine when they walked through the house.

Uncle Robert opened the library door. ‘There.’ He stepped back and let her pass.

‘You’ll not be disturbed. Sarah and Christine have returned to their lessons now the excitement over Henry’s return has settled down, and Jane is with Henry. ’

Susan looked at him as she undid the ribbons of her bonnet. ‘Is he suffering very badly?’

‘I believe so, but it is what he deserves, and it may yet teach him the lesson he has refused to learn from me. Today I think he is simply feeling sorry for himself. He has refused to dress because it is too painful, and is remaining in his room so he might rest without the need for a sling. I am sure he will be up and about again in a couple of days and Alethea may call to fuss over him once more.’ Uncle Robert’s pitch seemed to laugh at the idea.

Susan did laugh – at his jocular manner – not at the fact that Alethea would fuss or that Henry was in pain.

As Uncle Robert’s eldest son, and his heir, Henry had been spoilt horridly.

‘Shall I have a maid bring you some tea?’

‘Yes, please. Thank you.’

‘I will have Davis tell Jane you are here, and not to be disturbed.’

She was not always sure with Uncle Robert when he was serious and when he was making fun.

His tone of voice always held a lilt which had a measure of amusement and unless he chose to reveal the humour in his words, sometimes it skipped past her.

His manner of mocking life, and himself, made him extremely likeable, though.

She supposed it was where Henry had inherited his charm from.

‘Good day, Susan.’ He bowed his head in parting. ‘Come!’ he called to the dogs, rallying them. ‘Susan shall not want you disturbing her, you may go down to the kitchens.’

‘Good day, Uncle Robert!’ she called as he shut the door.

She set her bonnet and cloak down on a chair. The maid could take them when she brought the tea.

Her parchment, the box of water paints, her brushes and the book she’d been using were where she’d left them on the desk yesterday.

She opened the giant book and sought a new orchid to copy.

Ophrys apifera . It had a petal which looked as though a bee were sitting on the flower.

It would be hard to capture correctly and yet she wished to challenge herself, and at least on this there were only three small flowers.

Others had dozens of flowers on a stem .

She pushed her spectacles a little further up her nose then bit her lip as she chose a charcoal to sketch the picture with first.

The room seemed darker today. She looked up and realised the shutters were still closed over the windows before the sofa.

When she opened them, her mind’s eye saw Henry lying on the sofa, asleep, a patchwork of ghastly colours.

A slight knock tapped the door. ‘Come!’ The maid entered with the tea. ‘Set it there. Thank you.’

The maid bobbed a curtsy and left with Susan’s cloak and bonnet.

Susan poured herself a cup of tea, then concentrated on copying the shape of the orchid correctly.