Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"We're almost there," Olivia called to Ellen. "Look, I can see the lodge on the hillside." For the first time since leaving London she saw hills and a lake glistening in the distance.

"It's such beautiful countryside in Buckinghamshire," said Ellen, peering out of the window.

"The hills and valleys make such a difference," agreed Olivia. "I love Silverton estate, but our part of Bedfordshire is such a flat landscape, it's like another world."

"I do look forward to seeing Silverton Hall, as soon as the rebuild is completed in the spring. I miss seeing my parents and their cottage on the estate, but they've written to say the restoration looks almost complete," said Ellen.

Olivia felt a brief pang of anxiety at the thought of a return to Silverton, but noticed with relief the feeling was only fleeting. Time was healing her emotional, if not her physical scars. She would find strength to cope with the return to her childhood home.

The carriage creaked and groaned along the road as the driver slowed the pace of the horses and waved at the lodge keeper. They followed the long, winding drive to the doors of Leighton Manor.

The carriage halted in front of a mellow, half-timber framed, manor house with mullioned windows shining brightly in the sunshine.

I like the look of Leighton Manor. The cream walls, against the oak beams and red tiles roof give it a warmth, Olivia thought before sighing deeply, wriggling her stiff shoulders after the long drive into Buckinghamshire. I've escaped from London and the cold, austere Swanbourne. Just breathing in the country air is so reviving.

Olivia heard a shout of welcome as her friend raced toward the carriage to greet her.

Marianne might have become Lady Leighton, Viscountess of Leighton, but she never stood on ceremony with her best friend. In those dark days three years ago, when Olivia had lost her family, and then Jonathan, it had been Marianne who had stayed with her and helped her realize that there could be a future, even if it was different to the one she had always dreamed about.

"Olivia, Olivia," she heard Marianne's lovely, soprano voice calling in greeting. A footman came forward to put out steps to help them dismount from the carriage and onto the drive. The moment she was out of the barouche Olivia found herself embraced in her friend's arms.

"And Ellen," added Marianne, remembering her friend's maid, and greeting her warmly. "Come inside. I've asked Parker to set up tea in the orangery. Oh, and Ellen, Cook has a warm fire and a meal ready for you. I'm so glad you are here Olivia. I've missed you so much!"

Once again Olivia felt that warm embrace of friendship and affection and was thankful she was lucky enough to have such a wonderful friend.

Marianne took her arm and led her into the hall of this ancient Medieval manor house. Olivia drew a breath as she saw the inside of Leighton Manor for the first time. The original carved oak paneling in the hall was exquisite, with a minstrel's gallery rising above it.

"You're a real lady now, living in this most beautiful place," Olivia told her friend.

"I know, I'm so lucky to have found Christopher. A year ago I thought I was almost on the shelf. Mama was quite despairing of my ever finding a husband. Then, one evening at Vauxhall Gardens our eyes met while listening to an orchestral recital and I've never looked back."

"You look truly happy," said Olivia, delighted for her friend.

"I am. I never believed in love at first sight, but it happened for me and my dear Viscount Leighton." Marianne looked around and spoke briefly to Mr. Parker, the butler, who stood discretely awaiting her instructions.

"Parker, please arrange for Lady Olivia to be shown to her room and then we shall take tea in the orangery." Marianne turned to Olivia, "The orangery is in the new wing of the house added by Christopher's grandmother. You'll love it, it overlooks the original herb knot garden, and there is a view down the valley. I want you to love Leighton and visit me often."

"Marianne, I would visit you wherever you lived," Olivia said, laughing, her blue eyes twinkling. "However, I admit I am more than happy to visit you here at Leighton Manor. It might possibly become my favorite place in England."

After Olivia had been shown to her room by a housemaid, she splashed water on her face and then sat briefly on the carved oak four poster bed with its lavishly decorated brocade curtains all around it. There was an autumn chill in the air and a log fire was blazing cheerfully in the hearth.

She had escaped from Uncle Harold. It might only be a temporary escape for a month, but she had still escaped. No penny pinching, mean minded, disapproving glances for several weeks, and she would be warm in this lovely room, with a comfortable chair close to the fire, the perfect place to read and to write.

Her friend Marianne knew her secret, and at an elegant desk near the window she saw a pile of parchment, quill pen and ink, all ready for her.

After tidying her hair, making sure the looped hairstyle covered her scars, she made her way down to the orangery.

As she entered the glass-fronted room she felt a sense of wonder. The scent of aromatic plants greeted her, and the rays of the sun felt warm on her face. She admired the exotic lemon trees in planters, and the vines climbing to the height of the room. Marianne had thrown open the glass doors which led to a terrace and knot garden, which was so close it felt it was almost part of the room.

Marianne stood on the terrace, gazing at the view of the Chiltern Hills on the horizon. Olivia made her way outside to join her friend.

"I didn't hear you. I was lost looking at the view. I never tire of seeing the hills and the path down to Leighton Wood," said Marianne. "Look over there you can just see the turrets of Belvedere Abbey, home of the Duke of Hargrove, and one of the finest houses in the county."

"I've heard of Belvedere Abbey, it's quite famous. Is it true that a lady who was married to a Plantagenet King once lived there?"

"I believe so. Christopher told me that they met in the woodland, just over there, down by the stream. The King was out hunting and got separated from the rest of his party. His horse bolted and threw him off and he lay injured in Leighton Woods. He lost consciousness, and when he awoke, he looked up into the green eyes of Lady Matilda. He thought she was a fairy, from the Land of Fey. Of course they fell in love instantly."

"What a beautiful story," exclaimed Olivia.

"I love those old stories. Their love was real though, and they were married in the chapel at Belvedere Abbey. What we need now is a love match and happy ending for you, my dear friend."

"I think not, not now, after …." Olivia started to object but Marianne ignored her.

"Nonsense, hardly anyone would notice those scars. I never thought I would see you looking so lovely again."

"Ah, I cannot agree, but thank you for reassuring me." Olivia took her friend's hand and squeezed it gently with affection. "It isn't just the disfigurement though. I'm penniless. No fortune and a scarred face. I don't think I will ever find a husband."

"Penniless? Surely not? Your family is wealthy, and I know Papa told me your father set up a specific inheritance for you, which was independent of the entail. Your brother did the same for Jocelyn."

"All I know is what Uncle Harold told me, which is that I must find a husband in the next season in London, and he wants rid of me from under his roof. In his own words, he cannot be expected to keep me forever."

"Hmm. That seems very strange. Even if it is true though, you have looks and a character which will attract the eligible gentlemen of the ton . In fact, I believe I should enjoy being in London again for a season myself. Of course, this time I shall only dance waltzes with my beloved Viscount. I may well join you in London, my friend."

Olivia smiled gratefully, knowing a season would be easier to bear if her friend was alongside her, as they had been in their first season in society.

Marianne continued, "Come, let's take tea, then I'll show you the knot garden. There's a secret place to sit at the other side of the garden, and if we have warm weather, I can just imagine you taking your pen and notebook and writing there."

Later, after being greeted by Marianne's husband Christopher, Viscount Leighton, they all enjoyed an evening dinner. They then sat next to a roaring fire, sharing stories, news and much laughter, before Olivia retired to her bedchamber.

As she sat in her room, close to the fire, ready to write in her journal, Olivia wondered whether there was any truth in what Marianne had said about her fortune. Her brother Frederick, who had been her guardian since her father died many years ago, had always told her she would come into her inheritance at twenty-five, or earlier if married.

Despite the tragedy which had devastated her family, there was no reason to think anything had changed financially for her or, in fact, for Jocelyn. The title and estate were entailed to the male line of descent, but it could be possible her uncle had been wrong, and she would be well provided for.

Putting it out of her mind Olivia took up her quill pen and proceeded to write in her journal. The words flew across the page as she described her day of travel and the joy of friendship at Leighton.

Then, in her mind's eye she saw a hero, perhaps a duke with fifteen thousand a year, in search of a duchess, riding a stallion across the Chiltern Hills. Her pen began to record her ideas as the basis for a story swirled around her imagination. The duke was determined never to marry, but she knew that would change in a few chapters.

***

The next few days passed by in a whirl of activity. Marianne insisted they go shopping in Longhamsted, the nearest town, which possessed not one but two haberdashery shops, both piled high with bolts of muslin and silk.

Despite Olivia's protestations Marianne identified several fabrics which she insisted complimented Olivia's complexion perfectly. After pouring over fashion plates, she announced that her own wardrobe was outdated, and alterations and new gowns were needed.

Marianne seemed determined to join her friend for a season in London in the spring. She arranged for the dressmaker to visit Leighton Manor and, from the arrangements Marianne was making, it sounded to Olivia as though a team of seamstresses might be taking up residence at the manor.

Marianne in a determined mood was a force to be reckoned with and Olivia gave up protesting. She enjoyed looking at the puffed sleeves and lower necklines from Paris. Silk, sprig muslin and velvet for cloaks, ribbons and lace were ordered by her friend.

By the time they reached the milliner's shop, Olivia was exhausted, though her friend seemed energized by the frenzy of shopping. She suspected the haberdasher and milliner had just experienced their most profitable day of the year.

For the first time in several long, miserable months, Olivia felt relaxed and away from Swanbourne she hardly felt any of her old anxiety. This first visit to her friend since her wedding to Viscount Leighton, one hot July afternoon the previous summer, had been just the tonic she needed.

Marianne had arranged a small soirée for several local families that evening, to introduce Olivia to the local society. Final arrangements of flowers, refreshments and the positioning of furniture in the hall, fully occupied Marianne, while Olivia watched on. "Why have a minstrel's gallery if we never use it?" Marianne had said as she directed Mr. Parker to bring chairs for her guests into the hallway.

Olivia could tell from the expression on the butler's face that he disapproved of this idea, however, Marianne was determined to have the small orchestra high above in the minstrel's gallery.

So, leaving her friend fully occupied with arrangements for her soirée, Olivia took the opportunity to take a long walk, with the intention of going down the valley to find the stream.

Putting on a simple gown and carrying with her a blanket and her ever present pen and journal, Olivia set off accompanied by Marguerite.

The sun shone brightly at Leighton Manor, with a gentle southerly breeze. This felt more like late summer than autumn. She had left her warm woolen cloak at the house, hoping that the weather would not change. The sky was a beautiful blue, with not a cloud in sight.

The air was filled with the scent of the last damask roses of the season, carried on the breeze, as they were warmed by the sun. Her feet brushed against the boxwood edging the herb beds, and she inhaled the woody fragrance.

She had already walked several of the paths through the wood with Marianne, so she was familiar with them, but they had not yet made it as far as the stream.

As she closed the gate to the knot garden and entered the meadow, she saw the last traces of early morning mist evaporating lower down the valley.

There was almost a golden haze in the air as the mist evaporated, and the sun shone against the golden, rust-colored leaves on the trees lining the path leading toward the ancient Leighton woods.

She had always been happy to walk alone, enjoying quiet moments of reflection close to nature. Ellen was not a walker, and although she had gallantly offered to accompany her mistress, Olivia had taken pity on her and told her maid to stay at Leighton in case Marianne needed any help.

And I'm not alone, I've got Marguerite running beside me, thought Olivia as the little dog enjoyed herself, sniffing along the path and dashing through the meadow.

As she entered the woods, the path became winding, and zig zagged down the valley sides. It was some time before Olivia could hear the sound of the stream. She called Marguerite, wanting the toy spaniel to stay close and not wander too far away.

She longed to be able to take off her shoes and silk stockings and revive her feet in the cool waters of the stream.

Not long to go now, she thought.

High above, the trees joined in a canopy of rich color. Olivia gazed up at a ceiling of green, yellow, orange, and brown, with muted shades of red. In a few weeks the tree branches would be bare, sleeping till the spring; but that day they were vibrant in their autumnal glory.

Olivia emerged into a clearing, where the stream formed a glistening dark pool, shaded by weeping willow trees, whose branches reached into the water. At the far end of the pool she heard water gushing loudly and was startled to see a cascading waterfall. She took a deep breath, gazing in awe at the beauty and force of the water. With a splash Marguerite was in the pool, the water rippling around her.

I wish I could jump right in, I'd better take my shoes and stockings off.

The forest was silent and serene. She gasped as she placed her feet in the cool waters of the pool, wriggling her feet and toes. Olivia closed her eyes and listened to the sound of the birds, feeling the cold water against the warmth of the rays of sun, somehow finding their way through the leaves of the trees above.

She ran her fingers through her hair, and for once didn't notice the puckering of the skin at the side of her face, where she had lost a strip of hair. She felt wrapped in the serenity of the moment, oblivious to any noise around her.

When she opened her eyes she started at the sight of a roe deer, head bent to drink at the other side of the pool. When it lifted its head, she stayed very still, and it felt as though the doe had made eye contact.

Where are you going to? Do you come here every day to drink in this pool?

Olivia's imagination took hold as she thought that perhaps this forest was close to the world of fairies.

Reluctantly taking her feet out of the water, Olivia spread a woolen blanket in a sun- speckled place under a willow tree, and took out her notebook and a graphite pencil, ready to continue writing. She had been writing in her journal for three years and it had become her constant companion.

Since arriving at Leighton her writing had changed from being just a diary of her life and thoughts to include more from her imagination. She decided to continue the story of romance and mystery which she had begun the evening of her arrival.

Somehow the writing helped heal the loss of Jonathan too. He had chosen to end their engagement, although she would have been happy to live as a pauper with the man she loved, but duty to family had called him away. Soon after their engagement ended, he left England to tour Europe. That chapter of her life was over.

She would be content to be a maiden aunt to Jocelyn and, hopefully, Marianne's children, yet in her writing she could create love which lasted, against all the odds.

The hero in my story will value love more than anything else, and there will be a happy ever after.

Her pencil moved across the page, jotting down ideas. The Duke of Northshire was handsome with intense dark eyes. He would soon meet the Honorable Daphne Rillington and sparks would fly.

Olivia became engrossed in her writing, oblivious to everything around her as the ideas flowed.

Suddenly, something made Olivia look up from her notepad. Her breath caught in her throat. Was she imagining the figure before her in the shadow of the oak tree? He seemed equally startled to see her.

She didn't move, transfixed in time and neither did the handsome stranger. He gazed at her in surprise, then she caught his eyes and could not look away. She felt no fear, perhaps a sensation deep down within her of finding a safe harbor after a long voyage.

Locks of light brown hair fell to his shoulders, linen shirt open at the neck and a worn leather coat falling down below his knees.

Was this what it felt to be spellbound? she wondered.