A Bachelor Establishment by Isabella Barclay

Author:Isabella Barclay
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Accent Press

Chapter Eight

After her exciting day, Mrs Bascombe slept well into the next morning, arising, somewhat guiltily, just in time for lunch. She chose another very pretty gown in a soft blue and cream, taking a little more care over her appearance than normal.

Hearing that she was to venture outside, Tiller proffered a sunbonnet. Mrs Bascombe declined.

‘Mrs Bascombe, ma’am’ pleaded Tiller, nearly in tears.

‘I will carry a parasol,’ promised Elinor.

‘But madam, you are not at home, now.’

Elinor suddenly realised that she had, in fact, been thinking of Ryde House as just that and pulled herself up short. Reluctantly, she took the bonnet. Tiller was privately of the opinion that she would probably spend the afternoon swinging the despised article by its ribbons as she walked bareheaded in the sun, before finally leaving it somewhere she could not remember.

After lunch, Lord Ryde escorted Mrs Bascombe to the walled wilderness at the rear of the building. Quiet and secluded behind high brick walls, the only sound was the hum of busy insects and the chatter of birds. Mrs Bascombe took a deep breath of pure enjoyment.

‘Why won’t you wear your bonnet?’

The happy moment vanished.

‘I don’t like things on my head.’

‘Why not?’

Elinor groped for some suitable remark to turn the subject and failed. And now the silence had been too long.

‘Why not?’

‘I once sustained – an injury – to my head and find now that I do not care for headgear. Obviously, there are occasions when I must, but if at home, or if I count myself among friends, then I prefer not to.’ She looked at him directly. ‘Do I need to wear it now?’

‘By no means,’ he said, coolly, and taking it from her, threw it over the garden wall.

Elinor regarded him with rare approval.

‘You didn’t want it. I didn’t want it. There seemed no point in keeping it,’ explained his lordship. ‘Tell me about your head injury.’

‘No. How very sheltered is this garden. The sun is very warm here, is it not?’

‘Yes. What happened to your head? Was it an accident?’

‘No. What a shame the roses are not yet out.’

‘Yes. Did you fall from your horse?’

‘No. I would prefer not to discuss this any further. Shall we return to the house?’

‘No. Tell me about the injury. Why are you so reluctant? Are you afraid?’

‘No. What a splendid crop of dandelions. This must once have been a very pretty garden. I expect you remember that.’

‘No. There is an old seat here. Shall we sit for a while?’

‘No. Why do you avoid this house? Is it true you have not set foot here for twenty years?’

‘Yes. Did someone cause your injury?’

‘Yes. Do you hate this house that much?’

‘Yes. Was it your husband?’

‘Yes. As you well know. We will not discuss this. Have you always hated your father?’

‘Yes. No. I … We …’

‘Perhaps we should sit down, my lord?’

‘One moment, please.’

He slipped off his coat and laid it on the bench for her.

‘You didn’t have to do that. The bench is quite dry.’

‘You don’t like wearing hats – I don’t like wearing coats.

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