The Master of Stonegrave Hall

Jenkins knew he’d been riding with Miss Ellingham, a young lady who had ambitions to be the mistress of Stonegrave Hall. But the master was having none of it. After being jilted at the altar some years earlier by a young woman in favour of a suitor with a loftier title, Lord Rockford had good reason to be cynical where women were concerned. However, he was still regarded as a tremendous matrimonial prize in high social circles.

‘How is Mrs Lewis?’ Laurence enquired without lifting his head.

‘The same, I believe, sir. Her daughter arrived a short while ago. She is with Mrs Lewis as we speak.’

‘I see.’ Laurence’s voice was without expression. ‘Have her brought to me, will you, as soon as I have eaten.’

* * *

Victoria sat with her mother until Mrs Hughs popped her head round the door half an hour later.

‘The master’s home and asking to see you. He’s down in the hall.’

Somewhat nervous, not wishing to keep Lord Rockford waiting, Victoria went immediately. On reaching the bottom of the stairs she stopped. A man stood in front of the fire. Within the circle of firelight he looked to her to be tall and dark. There was something else she could not put a name to. It wasn’t frightening, yet it was unsettling. His dark head was slightly bent, his expression brooding as he gazed into the fire, his booted foot on the steel fender. He’d taken off his jacket, and beneath the soft lawn shirt his muscles flexed as he raised his hand and shoved it through the side of his hair.

Power, danger and bold vitality emanated from every line of his towering physique. Thinking back to her earlier behaviour when they had met on the moor, mortified, she was contemplating fleeing back to her mother’s room, but he must have sensed her presence because he turned his head and looked directly at her. Her eyes collided with his. They were focused, intently, on her, the expression she could not fathom.

‘Well, well,’ he said, noting that her eyes held a gravity that matched his own. The devil in him stirred and stretched, then settled to contemplate this latest challenge. ‘So you are Victoria Lewis. I should have known, although you were not expected back just now.’

‘I knew my mother was ill, which is why I left the Academy at the end of the Easter term. I was deeply concerned about her. I also hoped to surprise her.’

‘Come and join me. I would like to take a closer look at the young woman I met earlier, who played such havoc with my companion’s temper.’

Victoria complied, albeit hesitantly, and walked towards him, yet there was something in the impatient, yet formal tone which gave her a slight feeling of nervousness. Lord Rockford’s dark face, stern features and gathered eyebrows gave his face a grim look. She could see there was something purposeful and inaccessible about him, and those blue eyes, which penetrated her own, were as cold and hard as newly forged steel. There was no warmth in them, no humour to soften those granite features.

Yet she felt no fear of him, only a little shyness now. A not unpleasant aroma reached her nose, a mixture of sweat, tobacco fumes and leather mixed with a distinctive smell of horseflesh.

When she stood before him he took a step towards her and before she knew what he was about to do, he put a strangely gentle finger under her chin, tilting her face so that he could see it better. He looked at it hard, seeming to scrutinise every detail, probing her eyes with his own, searching—for what? she wondered. He nodded slightly, as if he had found what he was looking for. Victoria pulled away from his hand, almost tripping in her eagerness to get free, suddenly aware of the intimacy of the moment, the nearness of his searching eyes, the touch of his hand on her skin, his strong chin, the lovely deep blue of his eyes and the warmth of his breath on her face. She moved further away from him, her cheeks touched with colour.

‘Do you always subject people to such close scrutiny when you meet them, Lord Rockford?’ she asked directly. ‘I am not used to being looked at like that and find it extremely unsettling. Is there something wrong with my face that makes you examine it so thoroughly?’

A faint smile tugged at his lips. ‘I assure you, Miss Lewis, there is nothing wrong with your face.’

‘That’s all right, then.’

Laurence saw no trace of the girl he had met on the moors earlier. This young woman was the personification of elegance, refinement and grace. Her loveliness was at once wild and delicate. As fine as sculptured porcelain, her face expressed a frank, lively mind and a mercurial nature, full of caprice—the sort of girl who would play her way or not at all. But as he gazed at her he was most keenly aware of her innocence. He felt the touch of her eyes, felt the hunter within him rise in response to that artless glance. Though her wide amber eyes hinted at an untapped wantonness, he could sense the youthful freshness of her spirit, a tangible force that simultaneously made him want to cast her away from him or bare his soul.

He would do neither, but he did nothing to stem the rakish twist of his lips. ‘Don’t disappoint me, Miss Lewis, by acting sensibly now,’ he said, his eyes agleam with a very personal challenge.

Victoria stiffened at his silken taunting, but could hardly take offence after her unacceptable behaviour earlier.

‘Don’t be nervous. You’re not afraid of me, are you? Where is the girl whose pluck to stand up to my companion earlier won my admiration?’

Victoria mentally took a deep breath to barricade herself against the nervous jitters.

Laurence gestured to a chair by the hearth, indicating that she be seated. She did so, her every movement graceful and ladylike, even the way she crossed her ankles and tucked her dainty feet under the chair. Looking down at her, he searched the delicate features, yearning to see some evidence of the fire he had seen in the girl earlier.

‘That’s quite a temper you have, Miss Lewis. Miss Ellingham was still seething when I left her.’

Victoria dropped her gaze, feeling her cheeks burn with embarrassment, wishing he’d do her a favour and just forget that excruciating incident, but she seriously doubted he would. When she looked up she found her gaze ensnared by the glittering sheen of his blue eyes.

‘I would appreciate not being reminded of the incident, sir. You must think I’m the most ill-behaved female alive,’ she murmured dejectedly.

‘No, but I think you are undeniably the bravest one.’

Victoria was surprised. ‘You do? Why is that, pray?’

‘Because you aren’t afraid of Miss Ellingham.’

‘That’s because I was too angry to think straight.’ Her confidence began to return on being able to speak freely. ‘Perhaps if I were to meet her in different circumstances, it would be a different matter.’

‘Ah, but you didn’t show fear, you see, and that is not a bad thing, because once Miss Ellingham realises another female is frightened of her, she uses that knowledge against her.’

Victoria’s lips twitched with amusement. ‘Really? You make her sound like an ogre. But you must consider I was returning home to see my mother after a considerable absence. Looking my best, I wanted to surprise her.’ Standing up, she looked down and spread her arms out in a gesture to indicate her soiled skirts and sighed with dismay. ‘As you see, my carefully arranged elegance has turned into the dishevelled disarray of any village girl let loose on the moor for the day. You saw what happened, so I will not go into it again—only to say that your companion lacked the manners of a lady. I will not be browbeaten.’

‘So, it is a matter of pride as well,’ Laurence observed.

‘I suppose it is my greatest sin,’ she confessed.

‘Mine, too,’ he said with a slight smile. ‘It breeds stubbornness. But it also gives us the will to endure adversity. Did you enjoy being at the Academy?’

‘Yes, very much—although until today I would have said they had done a very good job on me, filing down my rough edges. Yet when I encountered your companion, I realised it was all wishful thinking on my part.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. You were provoked by her horse toppling you into the ditch—either that or you bewitched the beast.’

‘I did no such thing and nor was Miss Ellingham’s horse to blame. The reins were in her hands. She was in control and, in my opinion, she was riding in an irresponsible manner. Through her thoughtlessness I could have been badly hurt.’

‘You may be right. Miss Ellingham is somewhat reckless when on horseback. So, I think you were justified in anything you said. I am sorry it happened, but relieved that there was no real damage done.’

‘Thank you. It is most kind of you to say so. I’m sorry it happened, too—but not for what I said to her. Miss Ellingham was arrogant and very impolite.’

Laurence chuckled softly, finding it a refreshing change to find someone who was prepared to stand up to the formidable Clara Ellingham. ‘Forbearance, patience and understanding never were on the list of Miss Ellingham’s strong points.’

‘I am sorry if I appeared rude. I really must learn to control my temper.’

Laurence thought for a moment. So many young ladies were turned out by their mothers and governesses to a pattern—you couldn’t tell one from the other. But Miss Lewis was of a turn of character that he doubted would ever conform to type.

‘So, Miss Lewis, you have left the Academy for good.’

‘As to that I cannot say for certain. I actually finished my education last year, but knowing my heart was set on teaching, Miss Carver, who is the head of the Academy, suggested I stayed on.’

‘Is that what you want to do? Teach—like your father before you?’

‘Yes. He instilled in me the importance of education, that it is only through learning that you will get that which will make you get on in the world. He taught me in my early years and was very proud of my success in class and that I inherited his interest in mathematics.’

‘And you are not concerned that with all this learning you are in danger of being accused of being a bluestocking?’

‘Not at all. I am not ignorant of the meaning and would not be insulted of being named as such. I have enjoyed my time at the Academy, but unlike some of the pupils, who come from wealthy families and will marry gentlemen who will be delighted to marry a clever woman, as an independent woman who will have to make her own way in the world, education is important and necessary to my future.’

‘Your father would have been proud of you.’

‘I would like to think so.’ Victoria wondered what Lord Rockford would say if she were to tell him that her father’s dedication to his profession and to making sure his only child would be able to take care of herself when the time came, was due to his wife’s impassiveness and lack of involvement in both their lives, caused by her clear devotion to his own mother, her previous employer.

‘I have always had the idea of following in my father’s footsteps,’ she went on. ‘Not, of course, to go to university because ladies are not admitted, but staying on at the Academy would fit me out to be a teacher. I have my future to consider and there are few occupations appropriate for young women.’

‘I suppose a position as a governess may offer intelligent young ladies a roof over their heads.’

‘Exactly, and many gracious families prefer to employ a resident governess for the education of their daughters and younger sons than send them away to school.’

‘I suppose it is an occupation which will keep you occupied from morn till night without a moment to be spared for frivolous pastimes with which some ladies fill their days.’

‘I do not spend my days light-mindedly, sir, though I do leave myself time to do as I please.’

‘Indeed? The picture I have of you is that you do not employ yourself with useless activities.’

Victoria bristled. Was he implying that he found her uninteresting and plain? ‘We have only just met, sir. I cannot imagine that you have any picture of me in your mind. In fact, I fail to see how you have had the time to form any picture at all.’

‘I recognise an intelligent female when I see one, Miss Lewis, and I can only extend my sincerest admiration when I do.’

‘You do?’ Victoria wasn’t convinced.

‘Indeed. My mother involved herself in improving the education of young ladies—and other charitable works. She was quite the saint, in fact.’

‘I am no saint, sir. Far from it.’ The mere thought of it brought a smile to her lips.

The unexpectedness of it sent a jolt through Laurence that stole his breath and robbed him momentarily of his common sense. He, Laurence Rockford, who had stared down thieves and cut-throats on the meanest streets from Europe to America, who snapped his fingers at death, found himself mesmerised and weakened in the presence of this pretty girl. How utterly absurd!

‘And you are confident that you are competent in your subjects and able to impart your knowledge to others, are you, Miss Lewis?’

‘I hope to achieve a certificate of qualification in further education very soon. Miss Carver has encouraged my ideas—and my mother supports my ambition.’

Drawing a deep breath, Laurence regarded her with a steady gaze. At last they had got down to the reason why she was here at Stonegrave Hall. ‘You have seen your mother?’

‘Yes. She is very ill. I am grateful to you for bringing her here. I would very much like to take her home where I can take care of her myself, but I have been told the cottage has been taken from us. Is there some mistake in this?’

‘No mistake. I would say your information is entirely accurate.’

‘Forgive me if I appear confused and more than a little concerned, but I really do not understand what is happening. I return home to find I no longer have a home and my mother has been brought to live at the Hall. You must see that it is all most unusual and unsettling for me.’

The answer came, swift, decisive, and in distinctly harsher tones. ‘It must seem that way and I realise how alarmed and upset you must have been at the time.’ He gave her a narrow look. ‘Do you have an aversion to staying here?’

She searched his eyes, then looked away. The anger she had felt when Mrs Knowles had told her that the cottage was being made ready for a new tenant was beginning to reassert itself. ‘No—it’s just...’

Laurence caught the flame that ignited in her eyes before she turned away. His own narrowed. ‘Careful, Miss Lewis. Your temper is about to resurrect itself.’

‘Maybe that’s because I have a streak to my nature that fiercely rebels against being ordered what to do.’

‘I have a formidable temper myself,’ he told her with icy calm.

Spinning her head round to look at him once more, she swallowed hard as his cold blue eyes bored into hers. It had not taken her long to throw good judgement aside and flare up at him. She must learn to control her feelings better, but with her emotions roiling all over the place it was proving difficult.

‘When anything happens to my mother, do you mind telling me what I am expected to do—where I will live now my home has been taken from me? Surely you must understand my concern.’

‘Of course, and I am sure your mother has taken everything into consideration.’

‘She has? Will you please explain it to me?’

‘I am sure your mother will do that if you ask her. I have not been made privy to her plans—and if I had it would not be my place to discuss them with you without her permission.’

‘No—of course not. I’m sorry. I should have known better than to ask.’ Victoria loathed herself for apologising and for being a coward. Another woman might rant and rave at him for taking it upon himself to do what he had done—or go beyond good thinking and slap his arrogant face. But she couldn’t feature herself doing such a thing.

‘Much as I admire your spirit, you should take special care to bite your tongue sooner,’ Laurence chided. ‘You will grow tired of pleading for my pardon if you do not.’

She glared at him with accusation. ‘It is difficult to be silent when I find my home has been taken from me. Not only have you taken that, but my liberty as well. You have left me with nothing.’

‘I disagree. Are you not comfortable here?’

‘How would I know that? I have only just arrived.’

‘The staff will see that you want for nothing.’

After a second’s pause, during which the defensive tension in her shoulders eased slightly, she said, ‘I know and I don’t mean to sound ungrateful—but I would prefer to nurse my mother myself in our own home.’

‘I can understand that, but you weren’t here to be consulted. The decision to let the cottage go was your mother’s, no one else’s. Betty’s condition has become progressively worse since she came here,’ he said, with the familiarity of long acquaintance. ‘She is far too ill to be moved. Even if you still had the cottage, the doctor would advise you against taking her back there.’

‘But—when she is better...’ Her words faded when she caught his look and a lump appeared in her throat. ‘She’s not going to get better, is she?’ she said quietly.

He shook his head. ‘I’m afraid not, Miss Lewis. I’m sorry.’

She nodded. ‘Yes—I am, too.’

‘It is her wish—and mine—that you stay at the Hall so that you can be close to her.’

‘Thank you. That is very kind of you.’

Laurence gazed at her with a cautious half-smile. Either she had not heard, isolated at that Academy of hers in York, that he was the Devil incarnate, or she was too starved of male company to care. As someone who had little use for the human race, he found himself strangely moved by her shy smile.

‘Nonsense,’ he said on a gentler note. ‘Your mother was kind to me when I was a boy. I grew very fond of her. I owe her a debt. So, would you consider my offer and remain here? I believe a room has already been made ready for you close to your mother’s.’

Victoria felt as if he had just backed her into a corner from whence she could find no escape. Why did she have this feeling of unease, that there was something not quite right about all of this? It was most unusual for an employer to show such concern for someone who had worked for his family so long ago.

‘Yes, I would like to stay here. But—my bags. Mr Smith, the carrier, is to deliver them to the cottage in the morning.’

‘I’ll instruct Jenkins to have them brought here.’ His eyes passed over her soiled skirts. ‘Meanwhile I am sure Mrs Hughs will provide you with anything you might need.’

Laurence noted that she seemed to be holding her arm. He frowned. ‘Is there something wrong with your arm? Did you hurt it when you fell?’

‘Oh, no—it was before that—when I arrived in Malton. A rather irate gentleman opened a coach door, knocking me back into the side of it. I’m afraid my arm took the brunt.’

‘Does it give you much pain?’

Absurdly flattered by his courtesy and concern and his understanding of her situation, and relieved because he didn’t seem to hold an aversion to her for invading his house, Victoria shook her head. ‘It’s nothing. Truly.’

‘All in all you’ve had a rotten day, haven’t you, Miss Lewis?’ he said softly. ‘Doctor Firth is coming to check on your mother in the morning. I’ll get him to take a look at it.’

‘Oh, no, there’s no need, really. There are no broken bones, just bruises.’

‘Nevertheless it’s best to be sure.’

Sensing that the interview was over, Victoria moved towards the stairs where she paused and glanced back. He was watching her. He was very attractive, she decided, but it wasn’t just his good looks that drew her eyes to his profile, it was something else, something elusive that she couldn’t pinpoint. Unable to stop herself, she smiled. ‘Thank you. Goodnight.’

Two things hit Laurence at once. Light-hearted banter with young ladies just out of the schoolroom was completely alien to him and Victoria Lewis had a breathtaking smile. It glowed in her eyes and lit up her entire face, transforming what was already pretty into something captivating. But she was so clearly a mass of pent-up emotion. There was a tension about her, a sense of agitation. He watched her walk to the stairs and was strangely disturbed by the way she moved—like a racehorse, he thought. He had a sudden desire to see her legs. She somehow seemed to glide on them—they propelled her forwards in one smooth, easy movement, rather than in a series of steps.

He couldn’t remember ever seeing a woman’s face transform the way hers had when she talked about her mother. He’d seen ambitious women light up at the possibility of getting a piece of jewellery from him and give convincing performances of passionate tenderness and caring, but until tonight he’d never, ever, witnessed the real thing.

Now, at thirty years old, when he was hardened beyond recall, he’d looked at Miss Lewis and succumbed to the temptation to wonder.

‘Goodnight, Miss Lewis. Sleep well.’

And so Victoria sought out her room. Not until she was in bed did she allow her mind to wander and go over the events of the day. It would seem that Stonegrave Hall was to be her home until her mother... She bit her lip to stop it trembling and pushed the thought away. She couldn’t bear to think of that or what would happen to her afterwards. It was too painful and made her feel helpless.

But it was not only her situation that had rendered her helpless, but this man, the master of Stonegrave Hall, the dark and devastating Laurence Rockford. She admitted to a certain thrill on first meeting him. There was an aloof strength, a powerful charisma about him that had nothing to do with his tall, broad-shouldered frame. There was something else—a feeling Victoria got when she looked at him. This man had done all there was to do and see and all those experiences were permanently locked away—beyond any woman’s reach.

That was his appeal. Like every other woman he came into contact with, Victoria wondered what it would take to get past that barricade and find the man beneath.

* * *

Sunlight streamed in through the open curtains of Victoria’s room. Somewhere below, a horse’s hooves clattered across the cobbled yard, disturbing Victoria’s slumber. Dimly aware that she was not in her bed at the Academy, she opened her eyes, remembering her mother.

Washed and dressed, she immediately went to check on her. She was asleep, her face almost as white as the pillows on which her head rested. Not wishing to wake her, leaving the nurse Lord Rockford had employed to take care of her sewing by the fire, she found her way to the kitchen to partake of some breakfast. The house was large and comfortable. Taking a peek into some of the rooms she passed, she noted that there were many lovely pieces of furniture: gilded chairs upholstered in rich damask, with elegant sofas and walls to match, carpets into which one’s feet sank and marble fireplaces with shining steel fenders.

* * *

After eating her breakfast in the kitchen, she left the house by a back door, taking a short stroll around the gardens. The air was pure, the sun shining from a clear blue sky. Here everything was fresh and clean. The lawns were extensive and two gardeners were busy in the borders. A red squirrel ran across the grass and dashed up the rough trunk of an oak, cheekily flashing its bushy tail before disappearing.

There were coach houses and stables at the back of the house; the mixture of the grey and pale-honey colour of the stone from which they and the house were built mellowed into a timeless graciousness.

She did not see the man who propped his shoulder against the window of his study, a closed and brooding expression on his face as he watched her. As if sensing his presence, she turned and looked in his direction. He turned away.

* * *

Victoria was enjoying the calm and the pleasant fresh air, yet listening with delight to a trilling blackbird, when a carriage came speeding up the drive and came to a bone-jarring halt in front of the house. A groom ran forwards and the young gentlemen tossed the reins to him and jumped down, striding purposefully up the front steps to the house.