The Paradise Will Page 6

  Alyssa, watching him approach, gave no outward hint of her unease. She greeted him politely and added, ‘This is Miss Letty Ravenhill.’

  ‘I have been eager to meet you,’ said Letty, smiling. ‘I did not have the opportunity when you first called. Alyssa has described you, of course.’

  ‘I dare say Miss Paradise’s description would be intriguing,’ he said, with an amused glance at Alyssa, ‘and Mr Brook’s. Does he stay long?’

  ‘Charles has business which has taken him back to London: he will not return for some time,’ explained Alyssa.

  ‘I see,’ he murmured.

  With a studied lack of tact, Letty said, ‘Thank goodness he has gone; Charles was utterly miserable and making Lyssa the same!’

  ‘Indeed? I gathered Mr Brook’s mood was not a convivial one,’ he said, smiling wryly.

  Alyssa eyed him uncertainly. ‘He was concerned for my welfare.’

  ‘I have no quarrel with that, but why he must be in such high dudgeon, I can’t imagine.’ He raised his brows. ‘Perhaps he ate something which disagreed with him?’ he said solemnly.

  ‘No, he did not,’ replied Alyssa, biting her lip.

  ‘So Friday-faced is his normal appearance then?’ asked Gil, in an artless tone.

  ‘N-No,’ she faltered.

  ‘Yes!’ said Letty, simultaneously.

  He executed a small bow and said, his smile lurking, ‘I defer to your greater knowledge and trust it was not the Dorset air which affected his constitution, or his temper.’

  ‘I-I believe something in particular annoyed him!’ declared Alyssa with twinkling eyes.

  He grinned. ‘Ah, now I understand! Then perhaps a spell in London will restore his good humour.’

  ‘Oh, I wouldn’t depend upon it,’ said Letty, cheerfully, ‘Charles enjoys being gloomy.’

  Any further observations were cut short by the news the clerk had arrived and Alyssa went out to find the dapper, smartly dressed Mr Forde already seated in an alcove outside the diningroom. She begged he make himself comfortable and enjoy the refreshments provided, to which Mr Forde, who silently considered this the easiest commission he had ever been asked to undertake, readily agreed.

  The diningroom had been laid out in accordance with Alyssa’s instructions: places had been set opposite each other at the oak table and candles placed along its length; the magnificent silver epergne decorated with fruit was at the centre; a fire crackled in the hearth, and spring blooms, their distinctive scent filling the air, had been situated about the room.

  Alyssa sat across the table from Sir Giles and, as she waited for Rowberry to serve the soup, she glanced at the portrait of Uncle Tom above the fireplace. It had always been her favourite, the artist having captured the essence of his character as well as his physical likeness. Dressed in scarlet regimentals, General Paradise gazed down from his lofty position with the hint of devilment in his eyes she knew so well. She suddenly felt his presence keenly and looked again at the portrait; she was ready to swear his mouth was turned up in amusement!

  For Alyssa, the scene was almost dreamlike. She was dining alone with a man who was practically a stranger and yet the setting felt curiously intimate, cocooned away from the world. She looked away from her uncle’s image only to find Sir Giles regarding her steadily, and she could not suppress a shiver at his searching gaze.

  ‘How strange,’ she observed, ‘when I looked a moment ago, I could have sworn Uncle Tom was watching us. He would be pleased we have met his wishes – thus far at least.’

  ‘Amused too, I’d venture,’ he said. ‘I admired his sense of humour as well as his spirit.’ He glanced at the portrait and then back to her face. ‘I detect aspects of his features in you, Miss Paradise.’

  ‘Not his side whiskers and grey flowing locks, I hope!’

  ‘No,’ he replied, smiling, ‘perhaps a certain sweep to your cheekbones. More particularly, you have the same glint of amusement in your eyes that Tom possessed – there the resemblance is uncanny.’

  ‘Our personalities are also similar.’

  ‘So I am discovering. When we first met, however, you were not at all what I expected.’

  Alyssa watched his long fingers curl around the stem of his glass, noting the soft, dark hair dusted across the back of his hand and wrist. ‘Oh?’ she said, quickly. ‘Well, you were not what I anticipated so there we are equal. What did you expect to find?’

  ‘A demure miss, and instead, there was a self-possessed young woman who gave her opinion decidedly. You reminded me of someone but the answer did not occur for several days.’

  ‘May I ask who?’

  ‘My sister, Marianne – she states her views candidly.’

  ‘Do you dislike your sister?’ asked Alyssa, arching her brows.

  He stared, puzzled. ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Because I sensed your antipathy to me that morning, Sir Giles.’

  He smiled and shook his head. ‘On the contrary, Marianne is a much loved sibling. My hostility was because I had no control over the situation.’ He hesitated, then added ruefully, ‘To feel powerless is not an everyday occurrence for me, I confess. However, I am prepared to make the best of things now and should apologize – it was wrong to suggest you knew about Tom’s will. My manner is sometimes blunt, Miss Paradise. I cannot change it but hope you find me open and straightforward, nonetheless.’

  ‘I admit I thought you brusque, and self-important.’

  ‘Do you still think so?’

  ‘I don’t have enough evidence to make a further judgement.’

  He laughed. ‘At least you are honest!’

  ‘I cannot help it. And if this is the time for confessions, I should say I deliberately provoked you.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ she answered, incurably truthful. ‘I’m not proud of it, but the opportunity was too irresistible to ignore.’

  There was a gleam of appreciative humour in his eyes. ‘Your uncle would have approved.’

  ‘I expect he would,’ she admitted. ‘I am not a naive girl, easily browbeaten by a fierce look.’

  ‘Mr Brook is concerned for you,’ observed Sir Giles gently.

  ‘He shouldn’t be: I am quite capable of looking after my interests.’

  ‘Surely it is natural for him to be unhappy about the arrangements?’

  ‘Perhaps, but he should know if he tries to dictate terms, I’ll go my own way.’

  ‘It seems Mr Brook does not know the best way of dealing with his future wife,’ he murmured, half under his breath.

  ‘Indeed? And what would you suggest, Sir Giles?’ This was an entirely improper question and by voicing it, Alyssa knew she was straying into dangerous territory, but once again, some spark prompted her.

  He did not answer immediately, giving her a lingering, contemplative look. He leaned back in his chair and, with quick dexterity, broke the bread on his side plate into small pieces with one hand. Eventually, his response came. ‘A hypothetical situation of course but, if we were betrothed, I would know how to deal with you.’

  ‘Oh? I am interested to hear your view – hypothetically speaking, of course.’

  ‘Very well … since you ask, I would employ a simple but effective punishment – one that ensured you lost interest in obstinacy.’

  ‘Now I am intrigued!’ she said, laughing. ‘What method you would use?’

  ‘Ah, I shall not be specific, but it would be pleasant enough to take your breath away.’

  She stared, but his bland expression gave no clue to his meaning. Alyssa suspected he meant kissing her thoroughly and her skin started to burn at the surprisingly pleasant thought. He deserved a set-down, but then Alyssa remembered she was to blame for asking the question in the first place. Unbidden, her gaze slowly traced the line of his jaw and firm mouth. Warmth coursed through her veins and, for a moment, the breath seemed to be driven from her body. As his eyes met hers, a deep blush rose to her cheeks.

  He
returned her scrutiny without a word until he said softly, ‘But … we are only speaking hypothetically.’

  ‘Of course,’ she whispered, hypnotized by those low tones and his eyes coruscating in the candlelight.

  The spell was broken by Rowberry arriving with the roast capons and, during these moments, Alyssa managed to regain a little composure. Sir Giles was apparently not a rake – there had been no leering glances or lecherous behaviour – but he might be a practised flirt and she would do well to remember it. Rowberry departed and once more, they were alone.

  ‘May I enquire how your cousin received the news?’ he said.

  ‘He was very angry. You see, for years he expected to receive Hawkscote.’

  ‘Tom never spoke of him with manifest affection.’

  ‘My uncle was fond of Piers but found the way he ran his life frustrating.’

  ‘So why did your cousin still think he would receive the estate?’

  ‘Oh, Piers can be remarkably thick-skinned when he chooses,’ she replied. ‘He didn’t believe Tom’s frustration would result in Hawkscote being willed to me.’

  ‘He does not sound a particularly perceptive youth.’

  Alyssa looked at him quizzically. ‘Piers is the same age as I am, Sir Giles; he is hardly a youth.’

  ‘In my eyes, he is,’ he said, with a faint smile.

  ‘You are not Methuselah.’

  His smile deepened as he observed, ‘Not yet, thank God! Do you hold your cousin in affection?’

  ‘Yes and no—’

  ‘An ambivalent answer, if I may say so, Miss Paradise.’

  She laughed and his lazy gaze studied the dimple which appeared in her cheek. ‘Yes, but accurate! I like Piers when he abandons all pretension and reverts to his childhood character – fun-loving, adventurous, if sometimes exasperating. But since becoming an adult he has changed, and I am not enamoured of the altered Piers. He did not have a good role model in his father and was indulged by his mother; consequently, his general mien is one of bored selfishness. The will has only added to his cynicism, I’m afraid.’

  ‘Did he fly into a fury?’ he asked.

  ‘Yes, but I would have none of it – the situation is hardly my fault.’

  ‘Do you think he will contest, even at this late stage?’

  ‘He might, but he can’t really afford the legal fees. However, he’s not convinced all is lost and is coming to Dorset soon.’

  Sir Giles raised his brows. ‘To what purpose?’

  ‘I don’t think even Piers knows that,’ she said, giving a little shrug. ‘Perhaps it will convince him there is nothing further he can do.’

  ‘I hope he will not make things more difficult for you.’

  ‘So do I, but I’m not sanguine – trouble seems to follow Piers!’ she said, lightly. ‘We have spoken of my circumstances; now can I ask you a question?’

  ‘Should I be on my guard?’ he queried, smiling. ‘You are so direct I wonder what you will say next!’

  ‘Oh, nothing too controversial! I simply want to know who Miss Caroline Nash is. You mentioned in London she would not approve of us dining together.’

  Gil did not hurry to respond. He slowly sipped his wine, considering his reply. ‘Miss Nash is a close friend,’ he said, finally.

  ‘You mean there is an understanding between you?’

  ‘I suppose it could be described that way.’

  ‘That explains her opposition to us being alone.’

  ‘Yes.’ For some reason, Gil had never felt more uncomfortable in his life.

  ‘How awkward for you.’

  ‘Caroline accepts the reasons behind it,’ he said, choosing his words carefully.

  ‘Then I hope for your sake she proves more accepting than Charles. The repercussions from Uncle Tom’s will seem never ending,’ said Alyssa, with a sigh.

  Sir Giles gave her another searching look. ‘Miss Ravenhill seems charming. She must have been surprised to learn she was moving to Dorset?’

  ‘Yes, although she thinks it an adventure. Letty is delightful, and for one so young, she also gives her opinion unequivocally!’ She laughed. ‘However, I am hardly in a position to criticize her.’

  ‘It would not be wise,’ he observed, with smiling eyes.

  The desserts arrived then, allowing Alyssa to glance surreptitiously at the ormolu clock on the shelf, and she was surprised to see that only ten minutes of the hour remained. She had not expected the time to pass so quickly.

  His rich, smooth tones cut across her thoughts. ‘Have you met Ennis yet?’

  ‘Yes, I spent an interesting few hours studying the accounts – I did not realize there was so much involved in running Hawkscote.’

  ‘It is a responsibility as well as a challenge, but I have no doubt you will be equal to the task.’

  ‘You think a woman can run a large estate as well as a man?’ she asked, incredulous.

  ‘Why not? I am not so narrow-minded in my views on this subject as others. A woman can be successful with good advice.’

  Alyssa was astonished, having anticipated he would have an intolerant view of women in business. ‘Ennis was helpful and not in the least patronizing – for which, I was grateful.’

  ‘Had he tried, I’m sure he would quickly have become aware of your displeasure!’ he said, flashing a grin.

  ‘Politely but firmly,’ she acknowledged, as she smiled and held his gaze. ‘We have arranged regular weekly meetings.’

  ‘A sensible way to progress. Please do not be afraid to ask questions, either of Ennis or of me. Have you met your tenant labourers yet?’

  ‘Yes, several. I admit I was shocked. They were all obviously undernourished, and they do not even own the land surrounding their house; it belongs to the estate.’

  ‘That is the usual way of things now, Miss Paradise. During the war, corn prices soared and farming expanded to cope with the demand. Large farms engulfed smaller ones and small tenant farmers suffered the most, I’m afraid. Enclosure of land was needed for progress.’

  ‘Couldn’t the smaller farmers apply for enclosure?’

  ‘No, because the high costs involved favoured larger landowners. Many small farmers were driven out and are now only labourers on land they once rented.’

  ‘But if profits are high, why don’t landowners provide better wages for these poor people driven from their livliehood?’ she cried. ‘It cannot be right to treat them so badly!’

  ‘Farming is much less profitable than during the war. The Corn Laws have helped a little but even with this protection, profits are down and there must be further progress if even large estates like Hawkscote and my own are to survive.’

  ‘Progress at what cost?’ she protested. ‘A cost to the labourers, no doubt.’

  ‘Whatever is necessary, otherwise there will be no jobs at all. Mechanization is the future and everyone will have to accept it eventually,’ he said, dismissively.

  Irritated by the way he brushed aside the potential human suffering, she retorted, ‘I witnessed the poverty creeping through Oxfordshire, but here I am encountering it at close quarters. While I am custodian of this estate, I’ll do everything in my power to help those who work for me, and the local community.’

  ‘A philanthropic but unprofitable stance – Hawkscote will soon be bankrupt if you try to deal with social problems,’ he said, shrugging his broad shoulders.

  ‘Surely profit can be balanced against workers’ welfare?’

  He eyed Alyssa across the table and said sternly, ‘Take my advice, Miss Paradise, don’t try any such thing.’

  ‘Oh, I would not be foolish enough to jeopardize Hawkscote’s profitability, but I can’t stand by and watch the children of those who work for me starve!’ she declared, her expression mutinous. ‘And if that means ignoring your advice, so be it.’

  ‘Your uncle advised you listen to me on business matters.’

  ‘I’m aware of that, but this is a moral issue.’

  ‘Dear God, ar
e you always so stubborn?’ he exclaimed frankly.

  ‘Yes!’

  After studying the flushed curve of her cheek and expressive eyes for a long moment, he drained his wine glass and murmured, ‘I thought you might be – that does not augur well for my future equanimity.’

  Following this candid exchange, conversation during the remainder of the meal was meagre. After the desserts and sweetmeats, he stayed to take a glass of port while she retired to the drawing-room. When he came in a short time later, Alyssa watched as he conversed easily with Letty and admitted to confusion. It seemed Sir Giles possessed a sense of humour; he had apologized for his curtness in London; he had even expressed surprisingly liberal views on women in business, but he had also acknowledged he could be blunt, and his views on the plight of the labourers were heartless. And what was she to glean, if anything, from those curiously hypnotic moments during dinner?

  After over an hour in his company, when Alyssa had expected her first unfavourable impressions to be confirmed, she had instead discovered Sir Giles Maxton to be an enigma.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  The following afternoon, Alyssa was checking the linen cupboard with Letty and the housekeeper, when Rowberry announced they had visitors.

  ‘We are not expecting anyone,’ said Alyssa. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Mrs Nash and Miss Caroline Nash, miss. I asked them to wait in the drawing-room.’

  Letty grimaced. ‘Can we say we are not at home? We are not dressed to receive visitors.’

  ‘I suggested neither you nor Miss Paradise would be able to see them, but Miss Nash would not hear of it.’ Rowberry sniffed, his tone obviously disapproving of Miss Nash’s dictatorial manner.

  ‘Very well, Miss Nash must take us as we are if she arrives at short notice,’ said Alyssa, with a wry glance at her old gown. ‘Come, Letty, our visitors await.’