Lord Hawkridge's Secret. Anne Ashley
he valued so highly. He was essentially a very private gentleman who preferred his own company, but he also enjoyed the companionship of his particular friends from time to time, and was not averse, on the odd occasion, to attending some large social event.
Which was perhaps just as well, Emily reflected, as she moved further into the room, because he was going to be obliged to mix with a large crowd this evening, if what Sarah had divulged was true. ‘Finn called at the receiving office after he had taken Sarah over to the Hall in the carriage, Grandfather, and there are two letters here for you,’ she informed him, placing the missives on the edge of a desk littered with papers, and numerous objects of no practical use whatsoever.
Lined with musty-smelling books, and various stuffed birds glaring down from the glass cases positioned on the various shelves, the whole room, not just the desk, was an absolute shambles. It was only ever dusted two or three times a year, and then only in the Honourable John Stapleton’s presence, so that he could be certain nothing was moved. It had to be said, however, that in general he knew precisely where to lay his hands on any particular book or document. It was acknowledged too that he was a fount of wisdom, knowing a great deal about numerous subjects.
As he didn’t attempt to speak, Emily cast her eyes along one row of thick, leather-bound books, before her gaze strayed to a particularly fearsome-looking specimen in one of the glass cases on the shelf above. ‘Grandfather, you know a deal about birds.’ This succeeded in winning her a brief glance. ‘Are there any ravens in Kempton Wood?’
‘Never seen any myself. Plenty of rooks there. Why do you ask?’
She shrugged. ‘Oh, no reason really. I just recall someone mentioning that he’d seen a raven there, that was all.’
‘Might have done.’ Surprisingly she had succeeded in winning his full attention. ‘Seem to remember that at one time it was known as Ravens Wood. Here, pass me that map in the box over there—the longest one, this end.’
Thus adjured, Emily collected the map, and then handed it to her grandfather to unroll and spread out on top of the papers on his desk. ‘There, what did I tell you,’ he announced, prodding a spot on the map with one bony finger. ‘Now, let me see…Ah, yes! This map was printed in 1715. So it was known as Ravens Wood less than a century ago.’
‘I wonder what made them change the name?’ Emily asked, perching herself on the edge of the desk, the better to check the detail for herself.
‘Names of places sometimes change, child. And Kempton itself has grown considerably in size during the past one hundred years. Perhaps the inhabitants thought the wood ought to be called after their town.’
‘Yes, possibly,’ she agreed, before her eyes strayed once again to the fearsome creature peering down at her from its glass cage. ‘Do you happen to know anything about kestrels, grandfather? Is that one up there?’
He followed the direction of her gaze. ‘No, that’s a sparrow hawk. That’s a kestrel, up there in the cabinet on the end. They’re both birds of prey. Why do you ask? And why all this interest in birds all of a sudden?’
‘Oh, no reason really.’
‘In that case, if there’s no purpose to your incessant questions, you can go away and leave me to continue with my studying. And get off my desk, child! You’ll make a mess of my papers!’
‘Ha!’ was all the response he attained from his undutiful granddaughter, though she did as bidden and went over to the door. ‘By the by, you haven’t forgotten that it’s the party tonight? I’ve instructed Budd to lay out your evening attire.’
‘No, of course I haven’t forgotten!’ he responded testily. ‘Now go away, child, and talk to that pretty friend of yours, and leave me in peace.’
‘I would willingly do so if she had returned from the Hall. All the same, Grandfather, consider me gone.’
As Sarah was kept busy at Deverel Hall for much of the day, Emily was not destined to see her again until that evening, shortly before they were due to set off for the party, when Sarah, having managed to get herself ready remarkably swiftly, and appearing as if she had spent hours over the task, entered Emily’s bedchamber.
For a few moments Emily studied her through the dressing-table mirror, where she sat adding the finishing touches to her own toilette. She had never seen her friend so charmingly attired. The pink silk enhanced her fair prettiness, and the few fashionable touches added by Sarah herself were so skilfully incorporated into the ensemble that anyone might be forgiven for supposing that the gown had come directly from some famous Bond Street modiste.
‘You look lovely, Sarah,’ she announced, wondering what Charles himself would think when he saw his staunch supporter so fashionably dressed. ‘Where did you acquire the silk shawl?’
‘Lady Deverel presented it to me just before I left the house, and this new pair of evening gloves. She said they were a little something for all the hard work I’d done. I felt so guilty taking them. After all, she did very kindly purchase the material for my new dress.’
It would have afforded Emily the utmost pleasure to voice her opinion of that lady’s so-called benevolence. However, given the fact that if Sarah attained her heart’s desire, Lady Deverel would become her mother-in-law, she refrained, and merely remarked that Drusilla’s attire undoubtedly cost a great deal more.
After donning the pearl necklace and matching earrings that had once belonged to her mother, Emily rose from the chair, revealing that her own appearance left nothing to be desired. From the arrangement of her dusky locks, which young Amy, although by no stretch of the imagination a competent lady’s maid, had managed to arrange in a simple yet pleasing style, to her satin slippers, she looked every inch the fashionable young lady.
‘That blue silk certainly emphasises the colour of your eyes,’ Sarah remarked. ‘You look stunning.’
Emily flashed her a rather mischievous smile. ‘Well, we must do our poor best to offer Drusilla a little competition, mustn’t we? We cannot have her monopolising all the beaux.’ She took a moment to study her overall appearance in the full-length mirror. ‘I amaze myself sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘Six years ago, I didn’t give a hoot how I looked, but now I wouldn’t dream of leaving the house less than perfectly groomed. I doubt any of my old Hampshire neighbours would recognise me now.’
‘I think perhaps one of them would,’ was the soft rejoinder.
Emily was not slow to detect the change in her friend’s demeanour. ‘Why, you’re looking very serious all of a sudden! Whatever’s the matter?’
For a second or two Sarah appeared to find the toes of her soft pink slippers of immense interest, then she said quietly, ‘When I was over at the Hall today, I discovered that Charles had returned the previous afternoon with a friend of his from London…Lord Hawkridge.’
Only for an instant did Emily check before sliding her fingers into her long evening gloves. ‘I have been acquainted with the Deverels for almost five years, and yet I never realised that Charles knew Hawk. Dear me. Life is full of surprises! Grandfather, I do not doubt, will be delighted to see him.’
‘And you?’ Sarah prompted gently.
Emily’s shrug of indifference was not wholly convincing. ‘I suppose our paths were bound to cross again sooner or later. The aunt I visit in Brighton each summer is planning to take her eldest daughter to London next spring, and was hoping I would join them. I felt that, if I did go, I would be certain to bump into Sebastian at some point. The meeting has come a little earlier than expected, that is all. Come, let us repair downstairs. We don’t want to leave Grandfather waiting.’
Throughout the short journey to the Hall, Emily was acutely aware of Sarah’s keen regard. And how clever of her not to be fooled! she mused, desperately striving to maintain at least the appearance of the self-possession that she was far from experiencing.
She could quite easily, she supposed, have feigned a sore head and declined to