Chapter 23

CHAPTER 23

J o's disappointment with Alfred had faded by the following morning. He and his family had probably all been tired from their journey, and having to wait so long for a wheelwright. If she and Alfred could have some time together without his brother interrupting, she might be able to discuss her involvement in business properly. But that could not happen right away; none of the Bengroves had appeared by the time she finished her breakfast.

"Come for a ride with me?" George suggested, entering the parlour where she stood looking out of the window. It had rained overnight, but now there were patches of blue that hinted at sunshine later.

"Thank you, but no. I agreed to walk with Alfred."

"Probably overslept," George said, glancing at the empty places at the table. "He and his brother were on their third bottle by the time I retired."

Her disappointment of the night before began to return.

George grimaced. "I'm escaping before his brother can challenge me to billiards again."

"Lost to him, did you? "

"No, we were about even. But he proses on about Bengrove Hall and how fashionable it is."

"I hope you were suitably impressed?"

As George shook his head, voices sounded from the entrance hall; the Bengrove sons asking Stevenson something.

"That might be them now." George grinned, then bent to put his mouth close to her ear as footsteps approached. "Enjoy your walk," he whispered, then left, passing the Bengrove brothers with only a nod of greeting.

Mr Bengrove's eyes flicked from Jo to George, and a brief frown crossed his face.

"Good morning," Jo said. "I trust you slept well?"

Alfred stepped forward and took her hand. "Yes, thank you. I'm sorry to have kept you waiting, my dear. My brother's valet failed to wake us on time."

It could be true, Jo supposed. "I will await you in the rose garden, Alfred, if you still wish to walk with me."

"Of course. I will be with you directly."

By the time she had donned her half-boots, spencer, and bonnet, she only had to wait a few minutes before he joined her. He snapped off a pale pink rose and held it towards her with a smile. "I gave you a rose like this when we walked here together two years ago. Ever since then, such blooms have reminded me of your lovely complexion."

She took it, feeling her cheeks flush at his admiring gaze. She didn't recall him doing so, but he had sat making daisy chains for her, and gathered bunches of wild flowers from beneath hedges as they walked along nearby lanes. He might well have plucked a rose for her as well.

"The garden is lovely, isn't it?" Jo said, feeling the need to say something. It would look even better in sunshine, but the promising gaps between the clouds had gone and the air had the damp feel of more rain to come.

"It is indeed, but not nearly as pretty as you."

"Mama says the main thing she misses from her childhood is having a flower garden. I would love a garden like this." They passed through an arch in the yew hedge to a lawn surrounded by flowering shrubs and herbaceous plants. "We would have a garden, would we not?" she added, when he didn't reply.

"Of course, my dear, if you wish it." He gave her his charming smile again. "It will amuse you in the summer, I think."

"What would you do in the summer, Alfred, if you do not enjoy a garden?"

"I would enjoy walking in it with you, Joanna. And riding about the grounds. That sort of thing."

"Shall we go riding tomorrow, if it is not raining? My seat is much better now than when we first met."

"Do you ride in London, then? I recall you saying that you did not get much practice on horseback."

"No, but I go out with my cousins when we stay here, as we do every summer."

His lips thinned. "Your cousin?"

"My uncle only cares for hunting, and Papa regards horses as mere means of transport. George and Lydia enjoy riding about the countryside."

"I see. What was your cousin saying to you in the parlour this morning?" He said the words lightly, but his expression belied his tone.

"He just hoped we would enjoy our walk." George had done it to tease Alfred, she was sure—and it had worked. She should ask him not to do so again, but how foolish of Alfred to mind what George might have said.

Alfred's expression remained doubtful, and Jo felt annoyed that he didn't trust her not to flirt with another man. Then her cheeks burned again as she recalled her correspondence with Captain Delafield. But they were just friends, too.

She had better change the subject. "Were the business affairs that took you out of London successful, Alfred? Despite what your brother said last night, you would not be boring me if you related a few details. "

Another pause. "Oh, they were merely regimental matters, my dear."

She held the rose to her face, breathing its scent. To be fair, she probably wouldn't find details of most army matters interesting, but it did feel like an abrupt dismissal of her question. "But Alfred, if we are to wed, matters such as your postings, or whether you intend to sell out, will concern me."

He stopped abruptly and turned to face her. " If we are to wed? Is it not settled between us? Joanna, my dear, I have waited so long for you. You cannot turn me down now!"

"I am not doing so, Alfred."

He seemed reassured. "I'm pleased to hear it. Shall we walk on?" He offered his arm again.

He didn't say anything as they wandered along the paths. Jo felt uncomfortable; it didn't feel like a companionable silence. She did want to know of his plans for the future, but did not feel she could ask again just yet. "The sweet williams are blooming well this year," she finally said, as they neared the end of the long border, indicating the clumps of pink and white flowers dotted in front of salvias and delphiniums.

Alfred dutifully looked where she was pointing. "Very pretty."

"Aunt Sarah wondered if the cold winter might have killed them. The trees in the orangery had to be wrapped up, you know, it was so cold. We must have an orangery at our new home, as well as a garden."

"Of course, my dear. Whatever you wish."

Jo sighed, and gave up. Mama and Papa talked to each other often, about many things; Alfred had done so, too, when they first met. She would try again later to find some interest they had in common, but this walk had not been a promising start.

"Shall we return to the house, Joanna? It is coming on to rain."

"By all means." They turned and made their way back through the rose garden. As they walked, Jo's attention was caught by a yellow chaise moving down the drive, away from the house.

"Is your aunt expecting other guests?" Alfred asked.

"Papa is expecting some of his business acquaintances; that was probably their hired chaise departing." She looked at his face, wondering how he would react to the news that Captain Delafield was one of them. "Two of your friends from Verdun."

His scowl was fleeting, but she had not imagined it.

"I thought Captain Delafield was your friend, Alfred? You asked him to write to me when you were captured."

"We were billeted together, that is all. He… That is, we hardly saw each other once we reached Verdun."

That didn't explain his hostility, but it was pointless to press him on the matter. And unwise, too; he must not find out about their correspondence.

Alfred stalked off towards the billiards room as soon as they entered the house. Jo pulled on her bonnet ribbons. "Have Papa's guests just arrived, Stevenson?"

"Yes, miss. Your father wishes to see them in the library as soon as they have refreshed themselves."

"Thank you." She had time to tidy her hair first, but she did need to speak to the captain before he was introduced to Mama.

"Mr Stretton is in the library, sirs," Stevenson said, appearing from some hidden corner as Rob and Chadwick descended the main staircase. "If you would follow me?" He led them along a corridor, indicating as he went the doors that led to the dining room, the billiards room, and the breakfast parlour. He announced their names as he showed them into the library.

The room was several times the size of the library in the Strettons' house in London, and felt to Rob more like a parlour with bookshelves than a room solely devoted to books. A sofa and armchairs were grouped around the empty fireplace. It was bright from large windows on two sides, facing both the front and side of the house. One window had a low table beside it, with more armchairs. Mr Stretton was reading, but set his book on the table and rose as they walked in .

"Welcome, gentlemen. Do take a seat." He indicated the other chairs. "I trust you had a successful trip?"

"In a manner of speaking, sir," Chadwick said. "I have definite conclusions, but you?—"

"Excellent," Mr Stretton said, but with a smile that removed any rudeness from his interruption. "I apologise, Lieutenant, but Jo should be present when you give your report. We will find a time when we are not likely to be disturbed."

There was a knock on the door, and Rob smiled. "I see what you mean, sir." The three men stood as Miss Stretton entered. She curtseyed; her smile, and the delicate flush on her cheeks, almost made Rob forget to bow in return.

"You timed your walk well, Jo," Mr Stretton said, glancing at the raindrops now running down the window. "I was just saying to these gentlemen that we should set a time to discuss the canal project." He turned to them. "Will tomorrow after breakfast be convenient for your report? That will give you time to settle in. My nephew will be happy to show you around, I'm sure."

Rob recalled Moorven saying something about a military-mad nephew. He'd rather have Miss Stretton showing them around; from what she had written, he gathered she was familiar with this house and its grounds. But such wishes were neither wise nor helpful.

"We will gladly accept your invitation," Chadwick said. "Thank you, sir."

"Come, I will introduce you to some of the other guests."

Before they could move, there was a perfunctory knock, and the door opened. A man of around Mr Stretton's age entered—an older, more rotund version of Bengrove. He stopped just inside the door.

"Ah, Lord Bengrove." Mr Stretton stood and made the introductions. They bowed, Rob hiding his amusement at the clear distaste on Lord Bengrove's face. He must have heard about them from his son.

"I will leave you to peruse the books in peace, Bengrove," Mr Stretton said. "This way, gentlemen."

Miss Stretton fell into step beside Rob as they left the room, and spoke in a low voice. "Captain, my mother does not know about our correspondence." She glanced over her shoulder and frowned.

Rob turned his head to find Lord Bengrove only a couple of paces behind them, and getting closer. "Thank you, Miss Stretton," he said, in his normal voice. "I'm sure we will enjoy our stay."

Her frown persisted for a moment, then she smiled. It was only a gentle curve of the lips, but her eyes showed amusement. She headed up the stairs, and Mr Stretton led them to the billiards room. "I'll introduce you to the menfolk first. You won't want too many new names at once."

Three men stood watching as Bengrove aimed his cue; Mr Stretton waited until he had taken his shot. "Gentlemen, may I introduce my colleagues Captain Delafield and Lieutenant Chadwick? Captain, Lieutenant—this is Mr Edmond Bengrove…"

The older brother who would inherit the title, shorter and more slender than Alfred Bengrove.

"…my nephew, George Yelden, and a family friend, James Newman."

Yelden came forward with a smile and outstretched hand. "Welcome, gentlemen." They shook hands. Behind him, Newman nodded a friendly greeting.

"And you know Captain Bengrove, of course," Mr Stretton finished, addressing Rob.

"Indeed we do, sir." Rob was tempted to refer to Bengrove's trouble with the gendarmes in Verdun, but held his tongue. There was likely to be enough hostility between them without deliberately making things worse.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," Mr Stretton said.

"Billiards?" Yelden asked when Mr Stretton left. "We can play in pairs and have a tournament."

The Bengroves didn't look as if they relished the idea.

"Sounds good to me," Chadwick said before Rob could respond, and limped towards the rack on the wall to choose a cue.

At least if Bengrove was here, he wasn't making up to Miss Stretton.