Her friend exclaimed in delight. “How lovely! All set about with acanthus leaves-this is a fine piece, Cecilia,” she said shrewdly. “And inside-there’s writing. It’s all in Latin.
“How romantic!” She sighed, trying the ring on and admiring it wistfully as Cecilia translated the inscription. Hetty had no immediate hopes; an intelligent and practical woman but of lowly family, she could not bring herself to consider advances by the callow youths in her social circle. In any case, next to beauties such as Cecilia, with her handsome strong, dark looks, she knew she could only be accounted a pleasant soul.
“You’d never credit it, Hetty. Nicholas had been away for so long in strange parts of the world and then he calls on me without warning, and I’m not in, and he goes away again!”
She giggled. “And all the time I had my hopes of him and never a word except to say he absolves me from any understandings. After years of … But then he returns from his business and in that very hour goes to his knees and makes his proposal.”
“Oh, Cecilia! How you must have stared! Did you make him wait?” she asked eagerly.
“Nicholas is not the man to be trifled with I’m persuaded, Hetty. I accepted him and we’re to be wed without delay.
“Now, Hetty, this is not why I asked you here. There’s a favour I’d beg that would gratify me extremely were you able to grant it.”
“Why, of course, my dear.”
“Well, it’s this. I know it’s scandalous short notice, but Nicholas wants me to meet his family. We’ll take the stage to Wiltshire where they live but naturally it would be improper to be seen alone together. Is it at all possible that you could take leave from Mrs Barlow for a day or two and come with us? I’d be so grateful for your company, Hetty.”
“How exciting! Yes! I was saving my days up for the summer, but this is much more fun.” She glowed with animation. “Oh, but-I’ve nothing to wear that will answer.”
“I’ll lend you something.” Cecilia squeezed her friend’s arm. “Oh, my dear! I’m so nervous-what if they don’t like me? I’m so glad you’ll be there.”
The three met at the Angel. Hetty curtsied shyly as she was introduced.
Renzi bowed elegantly. “A friend of Cecilia’s is my friend as well, Miss Panton.”
A four-horse post-chaise was led out to the little group with their baggage, the horses nodding and snorting impatiently.
“For us?” Cecilia cried, in consternation. “All the way to Wiltshire? Nicholas, it would be much more economical by coach, and with you travelling outside we could save-”
“My dear, allow that my means do in fact permit me this indulgence for my bride-to-be and her companion. Shall we now board?”
The chaise lurched into motion and clattered off over the cobblestones of High Street. Quite soon they were in the deep green Surrey countryside.
“I’m so excited, Nicholas. And very nervous to meet your family. You’ve never spoken about them much.”
“All in good time, my love.”
The carriage made its way through the country, the weather remaining merciful. At the stops the two friends chatted happily together. Cecilia was informed at length of Hetty’s considered opinion that her betrothed was a vastly superior catch, a man of manners and consideration, and with a pleasing air of romantic mystery.
In return Hetty was regaled with a detailed account of the ups and downs of their affair, which each time kept her agog until the next halt.
Renzi was annoyingly quiet, seemingly content to contemplate the passing country.
They stayed the night in Trowbridge but at the evening repast Renzi would say nothing of what the next day would bring.
Early the next morning they set out at a brisk clip, the soft chalk downlands passing agreeably by.
“How far now, Nicholas?”
“Above an hour, I believe.”
They went on in silence until they drew up at a modest inn. “We’ll rest here a space before the last stage,” Renzi announced.
The ladies took their leave to make themselves respectable while a discreet note was passed to the innkeeper, who hurried away.
They boarded once more, and in a short while, they swung into a long, curving drive.
“Oh, Nicholas!” Cecilia cried. “A noble’s mansion! Is this why you haven’t told me about your family? You silly billy-to be in service to one as high as this is a great honour indeed. You’ve no need to hide it from me.”
She watched breathlessly from the window of the coach, then suddenly spotted what was going on. “Nicholas-quick! They’re expecting someone. All the staff, they’re coming out and lining up. Oh, dear, we’re going to be in the way. Tell the coachman to go back!”
Renzi didn’t answer, gazing absently as they drew nearer until the carriage ground grittily to a halt at the foot of the steps before the grand entrance.
“Nicholas!” she hissed, in anguish. “We can’t … Please, we’ll be making a spectacle of ourselves.”
A bewigged footman in green and gold arrived to assist them down. Cecilia stood helpless, gazing anxiously at the long line of staff in front of the stately magnificence.
And in the centre a lone figure, waiting.
Renzi moved forward, and as one, the line curtsied and bowed. “Nicholas!” she gasped in consternation. “They think we’re someone else.”
He still said nothing, leading them on towards the figure at the top of the steps, watched in silence by a hundred or more.
Struck dumb with confusion, Cecilia followed until they reached the top.
Renzi bowed. “May I present Miss Cecilia Kydd and Miss Hetty Panton?”
Cecilia curtsied with as much grace as she could find, unable to face the keen glance of the great lady standing there.
“Miss Kydd,” Renzi said quietly, “this is the Dowager Countess Farndon of Eskdale Hall. My mother.”
She looked up suddenly, struck dumb. Then the significance of the black veil and shawl penetrated her numbed mind.
“If her ladyship is …”
“Yes,” Renzi said gently. “You see, I am now the Right Honourable Lord Farndon, and this is my seat.”
After the shocked ladies had been ushered away to rest after their journey, Renzi walked with his mother into the blue drawing room.
“Dear Nicholas, it is so good to see you. May we indeed believe you are now returned to us?”
“You may, Mama.”
“To take up your title and inheritance-to assume your duties and ancient obligations in line of succession?”
He straightened and faced her gravely. “This I will do, Mother-you have my solemn promise.”
She took his hands, and there was a glitter in her eyes as she murmured, “You have no idea how happy you have made me, my son.”
They stood for a long moment together until she let go his hands and said, with just a hint of curiosity in her voice as they took their chairs, “I do hope your guests enjoy their stay.”
There was no point in delaying the inevitable and Renzi braced himself. “Mother, Miss Cecilia Kydd has accepted my proposal of marriage. I bring her here for your blessing.”
At first he feared she hadn’t heard but then she spoke, calmly but with determination. “My child, I find this difficult to follow. Am I to understand you have given a form of betrothal to a-a commoner? With all the noble families of England more than happy to make a connection with ours? Others may well reckon it a rash and imprudent act-but fortunately it is not too late.”
“Mama, I pledged my troth.”
“Yes, dear. And now we have to do what we must to remedy the situation.”
“I’ve given her my word, Mama.”
“I’m sure you meant it, dear. Now, not to drag it on unnecessarily, what amount would you say would satisfy, that would see her departure in good grace?”
“Mama, I told you, we are engaged to be married.”
“You are saying she is in a certain condition that requires a hasty arrangement.” The countess sighed. “This brings complications, it’s true, but nothing that cannot be attended to with a favourable outcome to both parties. It is not unknown that-”
“Mama,” Renzi said, with increasing feeling. “Listen to me!”
He waited until he had her full attention, then spoke with a forcefulness and intensity that was unstoppable. “Know that my heart is entirely lost to the woman. There is no one-none-in this mortal existence that I would otherwise contemplate in a life’s union.