stood in the earl's estate office earlier that day. His head was singing with all the talk of new crops and improvements. "Well, my lord," he said, touching his forelock, "It's all very interesting. The old earl, he never really troubled his head about such matters," said the farmer, implying that this was just the way a real earl was supposed to behave.
Farmer Althorp hesitated in the doorway. "We will be seeing her ladyship soon?" he asked, and then blushed, mentally cursing his wife for nagging him into being impertinent.
But the earl replied, mildly enough, "I am expecting Lady Devenham tomorrow. She sets out from her home today."
"Never today!" said the farmer.
"Why not?"
"There's a great snowstorm coming, my lord."
"Are you sure?" The earl's features became sharp with anxiety. Farmer Althorp's ability to forecast the weather was already a legend in the county.
"Mortal sure, my lord."
After the farmer had left, the earl sat looking out of the window at the lowering sky. If Farmer Althorp said there was going to be a bad storm, then he meant it was going to be very bad indeed. The earl ran over in his mind the servants he had sent to collect Emily. The coachman, John, was old but had a good head on his shoulders. The groom was a strong young man, and the two footmen were surely young and healthy enough to see to the safety of their mistress. But they had all been trained to obey his every command, and his command had been that they should rack up at The Green Man. Fortunately, The Green Man was only a short journey from Malden Grand, and he had warned them to make the journey in easy stages if the weather looked bad. So there was no cause for concern.
But it was not possible to imagine Emily behaving herself.
She was very young and quite hen-witted. Then he had to admit that he had tried his best not to miss her, only to find, to his fury, that he thought about her quite a lot.
He had spent Christmas not at Maxton Court but in London with his mistress, Mrs. Cordelia Haddington. Since it was quite _comme il faut_ to have a mistress, no matter how newly married one was, and because Mrs. Haddington was a lady of the ton, he had been seen in her company at many society events. It was not as if tonish gossip would reach the unfashionable Ansteys of Malden Grand, he had thought, quite forgetting that the Ansteys had become fashionable by dint of his marriage to one of their daughters.
Mrs. Haddington's charms had seemed too full-blown, and her manner had become increasingly possessive. The more guilty the earl felt about betraying Emily, the more determined he became to prove to himself that she did not mean anything to him. Let her perish in a snowdrift.
But he was really not very surprised to find himself in the stables ten minutes later, ordering his horse to be saddled and telling his Swiss, John Phillips, to get ready to accompany his master.
They were halfway on their road and not one snowflake had fallen. The earl began to feel like a fool, and was on the verge of turning back.
Then one little flake brushed against his cheek, then another, and another.
"Here it comes, m'lord," shouted the Swiss. And here it did come -- a great, white, blinding blizzard.
The earl bent his head before the storm and urged his horse to go faster.
* * * *
The early winter's evening was closing down when Emily, Felice, and the servants struggled on foot to the inn. It seemed amazing that they had lost their way and managed to end up in the middle of a field, but that was where the earl's carriage was resting, half-buried in the snow. Despite Emily's protests, the servants had insisted on bringing the trunks. They had elected to walk rather than risk being thrown from a stumbling horse into a drift. The coachman brought up the rear, leading the horses. Emily led the way with the cat, Peter, hidden in her muff. In her other hand, she was carrying a bandbox by its ribbons.
It was the early darkness that had guided their
Farmer Althorp hesitated in the doorway. "We will be seeing her ladyship soon?" he asked, and then blushed, mentally cursing his wife for nagging him into being impertinent.
But the earl replied, mildly enough, "I am expecting Lady Devenham tomorrow. She sets out from her home today."
"Never today!" said the farmer.
"Why not?"
"There's a great snowstorm coming, my lord."
"Are you sure?" The earl's features became sharp with anxiety. Farmer Althorp's ability to forecast the weather was already a legend in the county.
"Mortal sure, my lord."
After the farmer had left, the earl sat looking out of the window at the lowering sky. If Farmer Althorp said there was going to be a bad storm, then he meant it was going to be very bad indeed. The earl ran over in his mind the servants he had sent to collect Emily. The coachman, John, was old but had a good head on his shoulders. The groom was a strong young man, and the two footmen were surely young and healthy enough to see to the safety of their mistress. But they had all been trained to obey his every command, and his command had been that they should rack up at The Green Man. Fortunately, The Green Man was only a short journey from Malden Grand, and he had warned them to make the journey in easy stages if the weather looked bad. So there was no cause for concern.
But it was not possible to imagine Emily behaving herself.
She was very young and quite hen-witted. Then he had to admit that he had tried his best not to miss her, only to find, to his fury, that he thought about her quite a lot.
He had spent Christmas not at Maxton Court but in London with his mistress, Mrs. Cordelia Haddington. Since it was quite _comme il faut_ to have a mistress, no matter how newly married one was, and because Mrs. Haddington was a lady of the ton, he had been seen in her company at many society events. It was not as if tonish gossip would reach the unfashionable Ansteys of Malden Grand, he had thought, quite forgetting that the Ansteys had become fashionable by dint of his marriage to one of their daughters.
Mrs. Haddington's charms had seemed too full-blown, and her manner had become increasingly possessive. The more guilty the earl felt about betraying Emily, the more determined he became to prove to himself that she did not mean anything to him. Let her perish in a snowdrift.
But he was really not very surprised to find himself in the stables ten minutes later, ordering his horse to be saddled and telling his Swiss, John Phillips, to get ready to accompany his master.
They were halfway on their road and not one snowflake had fallen. The earl began to feel like a fool, and was on the verge of turning back.
Then one little flake brushed against his cheek, then another, and another.
"Here it comes, m'lord," shouted the Swiss. And here it did come -- a great, white, blinding blizzard.
The earl bent his head before the storm and urged his horse to go faster.
* * * *
The early winter's evening was closing down when Emily, Felice, and the servants struggled on foot to the inn. It seemed amazing that they had lost their way and managed to end up in the middle of a field, but that was where the earl's carriage was resting, half-buried in the snow. Despite Emily's protests, the servants had insisted on bringing the trunks. They had elected to walk rather than risk being thrown from a stumbling horse into a drift. The coachman brought up the rear, leading the horses. Emily led the way with the cat, Peter, hidden in her muff. In her other hand, she was carrying a bandbox by its ribbons.
It was the early darkness that had guided their
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