A Vow For An Heiress

Turning on her heel, she hurried towards the waiting coach, relieved to see Dilys already inside. She had no idea who the man was and handsome though he was, that was the only thing to his credit. He was exceedingly rude. She did not suppose she would see him again and she thanked God for it. But, rude though he might be, one thing was certain—she was hardly likely to forget him in a hurry.

Before climbing inside Rosa looked back at the foreign woman, feeling that her show of ill temper might be a refuge from fear. But fear of what? she wondered curiously. Turning away, she saw a man backing away into the crowd. He, too, was foreign, of Indian origin, she thought as she noted his brown face and long tunic-like coat and European trousers, both in black. She felt his stare. There was a stillness about him, a silence, that was entirely menacing. She felt the hairs stand up at the back of her neck. She was taken aback by the ugliness of his expression—a scowl of such concentrated venom that made her draw back.

William’s unease about what had just happened failed to lose its grip. His face betrayed very little of the emotions swirling through his body and his eyes remained impassive as he made a silent observation of the scene around him. But rage flooded through his veins as he thought of the danger that had presented itself to the child. His jaw hardened. The complexity of his emotions exasperated him. At a time when he should be focusing on his new role in life and trying to keep the Ashurst estate from being sold off, he was finding his time taken up protecting Dhanu. He was seeing danger in every shadow. That he had been followed from India he was certain, but he had thought he’d thrown them off the trail in London. However, if what the young lady had told him was true, then it would appear he was mistaken.

Suddenly he felt as if everything was spinning out of control. He had promised he would keep Dhanu safe, yet he felt as if he had just stepped into his worst nightmare. Slowly, carefully, he took a deep breath. He must not allow this to prevent him from thinking straight. His intelligence, his clever mind, which he had developed during all his years as a soldier, was his greatest asset. If he was to outwit this threat and keep Dhanu safe, then he must use his mind to do it. But, he thought, glancing around at the jostling crowd, how did one arm oneself against a foe that had no face?

Guilt overwhelmed him when he considered his ill-mannered treatment of the young woman. Her skin was golden. That surprised him, for most of the female population in England prided themselves on their milky-white complexion and took precautions to protect it from the sun. He had failed to do the decent thing and apologise properly to her. Beginning to feel a sense of shame for his unforgivable conduct and wanting to right the wrong he had done her, he turned to walk to her carriage, only to find it disappearing out of the inn yard.

Tense and irritable, Rosa suffered what remained of the journey in silence. The encounter with the stranger and the intended harm to the child had affected her more than she realised. Who was he, she wondered, and what was his association to the Indian woman? He spoke her language, which suggested that he had spent some time in India. She told herself that it did not concern her and tried putting it from her mind, instead concentrating on her arrival at Fountains Lodge. She managed to put it to the back of her mind, but she could not disassociate her personal feelings altogether.

Her thoughts turned to Clarissa and her distress at being forced to wed the Earl of Ashurst. Rosa knew what she was going through. She could empathise with her, for had she not lost her own love, Simon Garfield? His death had been final. It need not be like that for Clarissa. Andrew was not dead. Rosa closed her eyes, close to tears. Angry and emotional, everything inside her wanted to reach out to her dear sister, knowing how traumatised she would be if she was forced to go through with this marriage. Rosa felt she needed to help her defenceless sister, but to do that she would have to stand up to their grandmother. Amelia Ingram was a formidable lady, but she also suffered ill health and Rosa had been deeply concerned about her when she had seen her in London. She was worried that her grandmother wouldn’t be strong enough to take on the task of arranging marriages for Clarissa and herself.

On a sigh she leaned her head against the cushioned upholstery and closed her eyes, letting her mind drift back to Antigua and Simon. What they’d had had been sweet and gentle, their relationship happy and fun loving. His sunny smile and dark brown eyes were imprinted on her soul. His death on a fishing trip had been a blow she had believed she would never recover from. She had successfully repressed her feelings for him, but at times like this, they rose to the surface. It was impossible to stop loving someone just because they had died. The pain of her lost love was still there and she knew it would be a long time before she was truly able to say it didn’t hurt so much.

The coach made good speed, the horses moving briskly through winding, narrow roads overhung with branches as they neared Fountains Lodge. With Clarissa, she had been to England only once in her life, when she had come to Berkshire for an extended visit. The surprising thing when they neared the house was how familiar everything seemed, from the unfolding landscape and the villages they passed through, to the impressive Ashurst Park in the dip of a valley, the sprawling ancestral home of the Earl of Ashurst. They passed the gilded, tall wrought-iron gates which carried the Earl’s crest. The house could not be seen from the road, but on her rides she had looked down on it from the surrounding wooded hills.

Soon Fountains Lodge, a fine seventeenth-century manor house, came into view. Set back from the village of Ashurst, it was a spacious house, east of which were outbuildings and stables arranged around a sizeable courtyard. The Ingram family had built it and remained in possession since. Apart from Amelia Ingram’s maid and housekeeper, who had their own rooms, the staff needed to run the house lived in the village.

On reaching Fountains Lodge, Rosa strode into the hall with a winning smile for the hovering servants while removing her bonnet and shaking out her bright chestnut mop of curls, which rioted in a wild explosion about her head.

‘Hello, Grandmother,’ she said when the elderly lady entered the hall, her cane tapping the tiles as she walked stiffly forward to welcome her granddaughter. Elegant with a regal bearing, at seventy-five she was a small fragile woman. Arthritis and the years had worn away the muscles of her youth, leaving behind a shell of a woman. Her aloof, unshakeable confidence and bearing came from living a thoroughly privileged life. Being a small frail lady, it was difficult to believe she could be so formidably assertive.

‘You’re here at last and about time, too.’

‘It’s good to be here. How are you, Grandmother?’

‘Better now I am home.’

Amelia cast her eye over her younger granddaughter, knowing she would have her work cut out if she was to see her married in the near future. Rosa’s manners were unrefined and, unlike Clarissa, she knew nothing about genteel behaviour. She was a wild child, as wild as could be. She was intelligent and sharp-witted. She remembered her as being a problematical child—a constant headache. She was also proud and wilful and followed her own rules, but Amelia would not concede defeat.

‘We expected you some three days ago. I trust Clara was feeling better when you left London?’

‘She was much improved and sends her love to you both. But I’m here now and it’s lovely to see you again.’

Sweetly Rosa kissed her grandmother’s cheek before going to Clarissa, who followed in her grandmother’s wake. There was an almost translucent quality about Clarissa. As sisters they were not unalike, apart from the colour of Clarissa’s eyes, which were blue, and her hair, which was a light shade of brown. But where Clarissa was of a gentle, placid nature, Rosa was more spirited and inclined towards downright rebellion when crossed, with a wilful determination to have her own way. She was two years younger than Clarissa, but she always felt the eldest. As a result, without any parental control, Rosa had a strong sense of responsibility towards her sister. The sisters hugged one another, uttering little cries of welcome and pleasure. At last they drew apart.

‘I’ve looked forward to your coming, Rosa. I imagine Aunt Clara was reluctant to let you leave.’

‘She was, but she hopes to see us soon when she comes here for your wedding.’ Clarissa’s smile faded, making Rosa wish she had never mentioned it.

Amelia tapped her cane on the floor. ‘We have much to do if Clarissa is to marry our neighbour, the Earl of Ashurst.’

‘I shall do all I can to help with the arrangements. I like to be kept busy.’

‘I intend to see that you are—with matters concerning your future role in life. I haven’t forgotten that a husband must be found for you when Clarissa is settled—although I realise how difficult and unyielding is your nature.’

‘Father would doubtless have agreed with you. He ever despaired of me—but the same could not be said of Clarissa,’ she said, reaching out and squeezing her sister’s hand affectionately. She was worried about her sister, who seemed to have lost all her usual vitality. ‘In his eyes you could do no wrong. But where I am concerned, Grandmother, I am in no hurry to wed. I am not like my father. I am a realist. I can see things for what they are and I know I will never be accepted into the upper echelons of the aristocratic society my father aspired to. He could never see that.’

Their father had been known on the island of Antigua as a hard, authoritative man who worked long hours on his plantation and fully expected everyone else to do the same. Unfortunately, the authority he showed in his working life did not produce the same results in his younger daughter, who was known for her lack of discipline and her inclination to defy his direction, which did not apply to his elder daughter, who was a credit to him.

‘You are right, Rosa,’ her grandmother remarked, ‘but nevertheless he was your father and you must respect what he wanted for you and Clarissa.’ There was a hoarseness in her voice that told Rosa of her grandmother’s inner grief over the death of her only son. ‘He may be dead, but you have a duty to abide by his wishes,’ she reminded Rosa, as she did every time Rosa broached the matter. ‘It was his wish that you come to England, where you will be taught the finer points of being a lady—and I shall see that you do if I expire in the attempt. And despite what you have just said, a title will open many doors that will otherwise remain closed while ever you remain plain Miss Ingram. God willing, I will see you both suitably settled before I die.’

Rosa swallowed down the lump in her throat. How difficult life had suddenly become and how difficult the transition had been for her to leave her beloved Antigua and come to England. ‘I will try not to be a disappointment to you, Grandmother. I will try not to let you down.’

She spoke truthfully, for she really didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother or upset her in any way, but she was determined to have some say over her future.

Rosa, always intuitive to her sister’s moods, looked at her, her brow creased with concern. Not until they were in Rosa’s bedchamber and Clarissa had closed the door did they have the chance to talk.

‘What is to be done, Rosa?’ Clarissa said, thankful that she had her sister to confide in at last.

‘I think you speak of this marriage to the Earl of Ashurst. What can be done, Clarissa? Grandmother is adamant that the two of you will wed.’

‘But I don’t want to marry him,’ Clarissa cried tearfully. ‘He is a stranger to me.’

‘You will soon get to know him.’

‘But I don’t want to get to know him—not now. Not ever. I cannot go through with it. I love Andrew. I love him so much it hurts. I have never known such love—such sweetness...’

Rosa listened as her sister seemed to shine, her eyes brightly lit with adoration as she continued to speak of her love, her passion for Andrew. ‘Then, feeling as you do, you must speak to Grandmother.’

‘I’ve tried, but she refuses to listen. I cannot think of a life without Andrew. I cannot live without him,’ she murmured despairingly.

Rosa sighed. Never had she seen Clarissa in such a state. Alarmed by this, she sat on the bed. Feeling a great need to protect her, she took her hand and drew her down beside her. ‘Listen to me, Clarissa. She cannot force you to marry the Earl. You are twenty-one. You have a perfect right to decide who you will and will not marry. You must make her understand that you are your own mistress now. How does Andrew feel about all this?’

‘He loves me as I love him. B-but he will not marry me without Grandmother’s blessing.’

Rosa did not need convincing. Andrew’s adoration and the gallantry he showed towards Clarissa when they were together were plain for all to see, but because his family were planters in a small way, Grandmother had refused to encourage the relationship and had departed London as soon as a meeting had taken place between the Earl of Ashurst and Clarissa.

‘What is he like—the Earl?’

‘To be quite honest we were together no more than a few minutes. He had another engagement and his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Oh, he is handsome and quite charming—in fact, I am certain there is not a woman in the whole of England who would not welcome a rendezvous with him. His lineage is impeccable and he has distinguished himself in India...’

‘But?’

‘He is not for me.’ Clarissa looked at her sister imploringly. ‘In truth, he is so—so excessively male and formidable. He radiates a force and vitality that scares me to death. I cannot possibly marry such a man.’ Sighing deeply, she looked down at her hands in her lap. ‘How foolish you must think me. You, who have never been afraid of anything or anyone in your entire life.’

Rosa sighed, for Clarissa spoke the truth. Clarissa was quiet and self-effacing, while she was too outspoken and never afraid to voice her own opinions, of which she had many—from any subject that was topical at the time to slavery, which had been a constant irritant to her father since the smooth running of the plantation depended on slave labour. He was forever chastising her, telling her to stop going on about matters which did not concern her and of which she knew nothing.

Should Clarissa marry the Earl of Ashurst, not only would he have sweet and gentle Clarissa to run his home, grace his table and warm his bed, but he would be in possession of a large portion of her father’s considerable assets to repair his fractured estate. Their grandmother was right in one respect. With such an inheritance they would become prey to every fortune hunter in London. Better they were settled in good marriages.

‘I wish I could think of something comforting to say that would alleviate your fears, Clarissa, but do not be too downhearted,’ she said gently. ‘Who knows what the future holds? Why, if the love between yourself and Andrew is as deeply committed as you say it is, then when Grandmother realises this and sees that you will be happy with no other, then maybe she will relent. When Father gave Grandmother control over us he was only doing what he considered best. I’m sure he wouldn’t want you to be unhappy. She wants to make quite sure we are settled and everything taken care of before—before she...’

Something in Rosa’s faltering tone caused Clarissa to look at her sharply. ‘Do you think she is very ill, Rosa?’

Rosa nodded. ‘There is no denying that there is a frailty about her and I noted when we were in London that there are times when she appears to suffer breathlessness and a great deal of discomfort.’

‘She does tire easily.’