Rags-to-Riches Bride. Mary Nichols

Rags-to-Riches Bride - Mary Nichols


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of silk, did you?’

      ‘No, I did not. I decided I had mouldered long enough in the country. I came to attend the coronation and to give you notice that I intend to have a house party.’

      ‘Oh?’ One bushy eyebrow lifted.

      ‘I am to reach the grand age of ninety next month, as you know…’

      ‘You won’t if you insist on racketing about town.’

      His grandmother ignored him and continued as if he had not spoken. ‘And I wish to mark the occasion with a party.’ She accepted a cup of tea from Diana, who also put one in front of John and turned to leave them. ‘Stay,’ the old lady commanded, waving an ebony walking stick at her. ‘Pour a cup for yourself.’

      ‘Grandmother, what are you talking about?’ John asked, answering Diana’s questioning look with a nod. ‘You cannot possibly have a party. It will be too much for you.’

      ‘I decide what is too much for me. Besides, we have a houseful of servants at Borstead Hall, idle half the time—it won’t hurt them to stir themselves. Alicia will arrange it. I want all the family to stay the weekend. Friends and acquaintances will be invited for the Saturday only.’

      ‘Why?’ he asked, mystified.

      ‘Why? How often does a woman reach the age of ninety and still be in possession of all her faculties? I fully intend to be a hundred, but just in case I do not achieve it, I will have my celebration on Saturday, July the twenty-first.’

      ‘What does my father say about this?’

      ‘Nothing.’ She smiled mischievously. ‘He knows he will lead a much more peaceful life if he humours me. And William does like a peaceful life, looking after the estate and his beloved horses.’

      ‘And Aunt Alicia?’

      ‘Alicia too. I mean to have a really big day, with my family and friends around me, plenty to eat and drink and fireworks to round it off.’

      ‘It will kill you.’

      ‘Then I will die happy.’

      Diana was beginning to feel uncomfortable; she did not want to be a witness to a family argument, and she did have work to do. She stood up to leave, just as Stephen joined them. ‘Good, there’s tea,’ he said.

      Diana fetched another cup and saucer from the cupboard and poured tea for him.

      ‘Great-Grandmama, will you ask Miss Bywater to your party?’ he asked, making Diana gasp.

      ‘Of course. The young lady will be welcome.’

      ‘You knew about it?’ his father asked him.

      ‘Great-Grandmama told me when she arrived. I am looking forward to it.’

      ‘And who is going to look after the shop if we all dash off to Borstead Hall?’ John demanded. ‘Miss Bywater has to work on Saturdays and so do you.’

      ‘On this occasion, I expect you to make an exception.’ This from Lady Harecroft.

      ‘Oh, no,’ Diana put in. ‘You must not do that. It would set a bad example.’

      ‘Do not tell me what I must not do, girl,’ her ladyship snapped.

      Diana blushed furiously. ‘I beg your pardon. I did not mean to be rude.’

      ‘Do you not care to come?’ Stephen asked, aggrieved. ‘I am sure you will enjoy it.’

      ‘I am sure I would, but I cannot leave my father while I go into the country.’

      ‘Bring him too,’ her ladyship said. ‘It is time we all met him.’

      ‘I am afraid he is not well enough, my lady.’ Diana was beginning to panic. Her father was not yet stable enough to pay calls, and a party where there was bound to be wine and punch might set him off again. Flattered as she was to be asked, and much as she would have liked a break from routine, to dress up, live in a little splendour and pretend that her life had never had that treacherous downhill slide, she could not risk it.

      ‘Miss Bywater’s father is an invalid,’ John said. ‘She explained about that when she first came to us.’

      ‘So she did. But no matter, we can arrange for him to be looked after for a day or two. Problems like that are not insurmountable.’

      ‘I am sure he would not agree,’ Diana said. The old lady’s family might defer to her, but on this matter she was going to find herself thwarted. She would not subject her father to the indignity of being looked after, as if he were a child packed off to the nursery when his presence became inconvenient. And she did not know why Stephen was so anxious she should be one of the party.

      ‘I think you must allow Miss Bywater to decline without bullying her, Grandmother,’ John said. ‘And you know, we are very busy and it is not altogether convenient for me to drop everything to take you home when you arrive unexpectedly.’

      ‘You don’t need to.’ Her voice held a note of asperity. ‘Richard brought me. He has gone to the House of Commons and then he is coming back for me.’

      ‘House of Commons?’ Mr Harecroft senior demanded. ‘Since when has he interested himself in politics?’

      ‘You must ask him that. I am not his keeper.’

      Diana had been inching her way towards the door in order to escape and was reaching for its handle when it was opened and she found herself half-hidden behind it, sucking a little finger that had been caught in the handle.

      The newcomer turned to shut the door and saw her. ‘I beg pardon, I did not see you hiding there.’

      She met his blue-eyed gaze and something inside her turned a somersault. He was a much bigger version of Stephen; he was taller, his shoulders broader, the red-gold of his hair more pronounced—a characteristic she concluded all the family had to a greater or lesser degree—his eyes were bluer and his mouth fuller. She realised with a little stab of guilt that he made his brother look drab and colourless, particularly as in contrast to Stephen’s grey suit, he was wearing a brown frock coat, light brown trousers and a pale fawn cravat. It was not only his size and his clothes, his presence dominated the room. He exuded power and self-assurance. She could easily imagine him as a serving officer, in full command of his men. ‘I was not hiding, I was about to leave,’ she said, finding her voice at last.

      ‘Oh, please do not leave on my account.’ He stopped suddenly, unable to take his eyes from her face. She seemed so familiar he felt he ought to know her. She was plainly dressed and wore an unbecoming cap that hid most of her hair, but her complexion was flawless and her eyes reminded him of the plumage of a dove, a soft blue-grey. Her lips were pink and firm and at that moment were sucking a little finger; it was an incredibly sensuous act, made more so because she appeared totally unaware of the effect she was having. ‘Does it hurt?’

      She took it from her mouth to answer him. ‘No, it is nothing.’

      ‘Richard, may I present Miss Diana Bywater,’ Stephen said, stepping between them. ‘Miss Bywater, my brother, Richard.’

      ‘How do you do?’ he said, wondering why Stephen found it necessary to introduce someone who was so obviously a servant. It did not bother him, but his family were sticklers for form.

      She bowed her head. ‘Mr Harecroft.’

      He nodded towards the table where the teapot and the used cups and saucers were evidence of the refreshment they had been enjoying before he arrived. ‘Are you going to pour me a cup of tea?’

      ‘I am afraid it must be cold by now. I will make a fresh pot if you like.’

      ‘Miss Bywater, you have those accounts to complete before the end of the working day,’ John reminded her.

      ‘Accounts?’ Richard queried. ‘Oh, you must be the young lady who had the temerity to apply for a man’s job.


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