The Six Month Marriage (13 page)

Philip turned to the coachman. ‘Go on. The Countess and
I will ride across the moors for the rest of the way.’

‘Yes, my lord.’

The man whipped up the horses and the coach rolled
forward.

‘There is something I want to show you,’ Philip said. ‘We
will reach it by way of this track.’

Madeline looked in the direction of his gaze and saw a
small track leading across the moor, cutting through the swathes of purple
heather that waved in the breeze.

Philip turned his horse’s head and set out at a slow
pace, guiding his own animal across the scrub and heather and leaving the track
to Madeline’s mare.

‘Well, Madeline?’ he asked as they picked their way
across the moors. ‘What do you think of your new home?’

‘I think it’s beautiful,’ she said, taking in the wild
grandeur of the moors. ‘It’s so open I can see for miles.’ As she said it she
remembered how she had been hemmed in and trapped in
London
, and how it had oppressed her spirits. But here there was space in
every direction.

‘That’s where we’re heading,’ he said, pointing ahead. ‘That
outcrop of rock on the horizon. It gives Stonecrop Manor its name. From there
you can see the whole estate.’

The horses continued to pick their way across the
fragrant moor until they reached the large outbreak of rock. It was set high
up, and Madeline drank in the view.

‘I can see why you love it,’ she said.

Philip threw one leg over the back of his horse and
dismounted, tying the reins to one of the rocks on the craggy outcrop.

‘We’ll stop here for a while. We still have a long way
to go and you will need to rest.’

Madeline, tired from the day’s exercise, readily agreed.

She reined in her horse.

Philip held out his arms to help her dismount.

Madeline hesitated. To be in his arms again - who knew
what feelings it would produce? But it had to be done. She certainly could not
dismount without his help.

Summoning her courage she sprang lightly from her mare’s
back and into his waiting arms, feeling his strong hands close round her waist.
There was a momentary tingling sensation, and then to her relief he began to
loose his grip. But as he did so a bird flew out of the heather and her mare
took fright, pitching her forcefully forwards. Philip’s arms tightened
instinctively round her and she felt her body being crushed against his. She
was suddenly so close to him that she could see every detail of his face: every
line, every curve, every bristle that covered his chin. He was, with his scar,
like a force of nature, rugged, indomitable and powerful, his masculine scent
harsh and exciting, at one with the unyielding landscape of rock and stone. If
he kissed her now . . . her knees sagged with the thought and he caught her;
held her up; and then his lips closed over her own.

It was intoxicating. She was consumed by a rush of
tingles that spread to every part of her. She knew she should pull away, but
she was too weak and too overcome by the feeling that she never wanted the kiss
to end. Once it ended she would have to think. She would have to wonder why it
was she could bear him to touch her, let alone want him to caress her. She had
never wanted any man near her before. Men disgusted her and made her afraid.
But Philip . . . Her thoughts dissolved under the onslaught of the heady
sensations that were coursing through her and she gave herself up to his kiss.

Finally he let her go. His eyes were filled with a gleam
she had never seen before and it was matched by an answering fire in her own. But
her mind was back in control now.

And so was his.

‘You have my apologies, Madeline,’ he said stiffly. ‘That
was unforgivable.’

It wasn’t
, she wanted to
say, as she tried to swallow down the emotions that were still lighting her
blood.

‘You may rest assured it will never happen again,’ he
said.

Of course not
, she
thought as he walked away from her.
He is not in love with me; he is in love
with Letitia
.

The thought gave her pain. She was under no illusions
about the nature of her marriage to Philip. In fact, she would not have agreed
to it had things been otherwise. It was only because it was a temporary
marriage that she had felt able to be a party to it, because in that way she
could be certain that her mother’s unhappy fate would not become her own.

Even so, she could not deny the feelings that he roused
in her, feelings that were as wild and untamed as the moors themselves,
feelings that had been created by the same ungovernable force: Nature.

And yet it was not just Nature. At least not for her. It
was definitely something more.

That thought was too unsettling to pursue, so she walked
in the opposite direction and sat down on an outcrop of rock. Her breathing
began to return to normal, and as she grew calmer she was able to turn her
thoughts away from Philip and take an interest in the landscape instead.

Below her the estate was spread out like a living map.
In the distance, so far away and so far below her that it looked like a toy,
was the Manor. Around it was a swathe of green. And far off, flashing as it
caught the sunlight, was a river, snaking its way through the fields.

‘We should be on our way,’ she called at last.

Philip, who had climbed the rocks that gave the estate
its name, cast his hawk-like gaze over his domain one more time, and then he
gave up his place on the rocks and joined her.

Unwilling to let him touch her again, afraid of her
response, Madeline had already mounted. It had not been easy, but she had
managed to use one of the rocks as a mounting block.

Together they set off towards the Manor.

The landscape became gentler as they followed a path
leading downwards, away from the exposed heights of the moors. The number of
sheep grazing increased, and the sight of them cropping the grass created an
atmosphere of pastoral tranquillity.

It was strange to think that somewhere Philip’s friend
was in danger, perhaps being pursued even now by the men who had held up the
coach.

At last Madeline and Philip came to the Manor. It was a
splendid sight. Built entirely of pale golden stone, it was large and imposing.
Windows were set at regular intervals along the walls, going down almost to the
ground. They would give beautiful views over the gardens and fields beyond.

They rode up to the front door. Crump, in his element,
was on hand to greet them.

As Madeline passed in through the high door she was
surprised and somewhat alarmed to see that he had assembled all the servants to
greet their master and their new mistress. For the first time, Madeline began
to fully realise what being Philip’s countess – even his temporary countess -
would mean. She lifted her chin. Although deception did not come naturally to
her, circumstances had forced her to take on the rôle of Philip’s wife and she
meant to play her part.

‘This is well thought of, Crump,’ said Philip

‘It is only proper, my lord. The staff wished to pay
their respects to Lady Pemberton.’

Philip nodded his approval. ‘Well done.’

After a short speech of welcome, delivered by Crump in
his most respectful manner, Philip said a brief word to each member of staff,
before leading Madeline into the drawing-room.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many servants,’ she
remarked.

‘It takes a lot of people to run a house of this size.
But you need not worry about it. The servants will see to everything. You need
do nothing more than amuse yourself.’

His manner was polite, but at the same time distant. The
closeness of the previous week had vanished. It was as though, having realised
he had overstepped the boundaries of their agreement by kissing her, he meant
to make sure that nothing like that could ever happen again. And for that
Madeline was grateful - or so she told herself. It had begun to mean too much
to her, her rapport with Philip, and she must learn to let it go.

She looked round the room, glad of the excuse it gave
her not to speak. She took in the elegant proportions and the tasteful
furnishings. Venetian gilded mirrors hung on the walls and gilded chairs were
scattered around the room. An elegant sofa upholstered in sage green damask
complemented the pale green walls, and the white Adam fireplace gave the room a
light and airy feel.

‘And now I must leave you,’ Philip said. ‘I have been
away from the estate too long as it is. If you need anything, Mrs Potts will be
happy to help.’

‘Mrs Potts?’

‘The housekeeper.’

‘But I thought Mrs Green . . . ’

‘Mrs Green is responsible for the
London
house. It is Mrs Potts who looks
after the Manor.’

‘Of course.’ Madeline realised once again how different
the lifestyle of an earl must be from anything she had experienced. But she
must learn, and learn quickly. Because now they had arrived in
Yorkshire
she would come under scrutiny
from Philip’s friends and neighbours, and she must be able to play her part
convincingly.

If she did not, the true nature of her marriage to
Philip would surely be discovered, and their six-month marriage would be over
almost before it had begun.

‘Well,
my lady, things are looking up and no mistake,’ said Jenny as she dressed
Madeline’s hair a few days later.

Madeline’s bedroom was at the front of the house,
overlooking the formal gardens, which Philip’s father had designed himself.

‘Perhaps,’ said Madeline. Although the first few weeks
of the marriage had passed well enough there were many months to go, and
Madeline had not relaxed, as Jenny had. There had been the strange business of
the break-in at the Earl’s
London
home, and then the incident with the masked men on the road, to say
nothing of the confusing feelings Madeline had for Philip.

‘The servants are a friendly lot. I thought they might
be stuck up at first, but they’ve made me welcome,’ said Jenny cheerfully. But
then she gave a slight frown.

‘What is it?’ Madeline asked, happy to be drawn out of
her own thoughts.

‘Oh, nothing,’ said Jenny with a shrug. ‘It’s just that
one of the footmen, Danson, seems a bit . . . over friendly.’

‘If you are having any trouble with him, I will speak to
him.’

‘Oh, no, my lady, it’s nothing like that,’ said Jenny as
she laced Madeline’s corsets. ‘He isn’t too familiar, if that’s what you’re
thinking. It’s more that he’s too interested, if you know what I mean. He asks
too many questions. Where I’m from, how long I’ve been with you, if you’re
happy at the Manor, that kind of thing. It’s just a servant’s nosiness, I dare
say,’ she continued. ‘It’s a bit out of the way here, my lady, not like
London
, where there’s always plenty going
on. He’s just bored, most probably, and needs something to gossip about.’

‘As long as you’re sure he isn’t bothering you,’ said
Madeline, looking at Jenny searchingly; for whilst Jenny was very protective of
her mistress, Madeline was also protective of Jenny.

‘Don’t you worry your head about it,’ said Jenny.

Madeline was satisfied, and turned her attention back to
the gown that was laid out on her bed.

‘Here, my lady, let me help you on with that,’ said
Jenny.

The gown was one of the first of Madeline’s new dresses.
It had been waiting for her on her arrival at the Manor. It had been brought
over by Miss Silverstone, Madame Rouen’s cousin, as soon as it was ready, and
the other outfits were to follow when they were finished.

The dress was extremely beautiful. Madeline had resisted
the idea of always dressing in silks and satins, as Madame Rouen would have
liked her to have done, and had opted for a number of simple yet elegant day
dresses, reserving the more luxurious fabrics for the outfits she would wear
when she was out and about. The dress she now wore was of white muslin with a
small jonquil spot. It was edged at the hem with a double-plaited ribbon in a
matching shade, and a single-plaited ribbon marked out the high waist line and
trimmed the puffed sleeves.

She looked in the cheval glass to check that she was
tidy before she went downstairs. She pushed one stray ringlet back from her
face and smoothed her hand over the crown of her head, where her flaxen hair
had been pulled back into a glossy chignon. She adjusted the handkerchief set
into the scoop neckline of her gown and fastened a single strand of pearls
round her neck. Then, after giving Jenny a few directions, she went downstairs.

On arriving at the Manor she had at first felt overawed
by the way Mrs Potts had looked to her for decisions about the running of the
household, but to her relief she had found a collection of old household
diaries in the pretty study that had been used by Philip’s mother. She had
quickly realised they contained all the information she needed. Having read
them through, she knew what had to be done in each week, and sometimes on each
day, of the year, and could instruct Mrs Potts accordingly.