Miss Debenham's Secret (The Husband Hunters Club 5.50)

I won’t let Father spoil this, she told herself determinedly. Who knows how long Alistair will be here? And I want to enjoy every moment that he is, and I refuse to allow anyone to spoil it. I deserve a little bit of happiness and I am going to have it. Even if it is fleeting and doesn’t last it will be something to remember for the rest of my life.

CHAPTER FIVE

Alistair had not been to Clarissa’s home but it was much as he expected. A neat, well-kept, rather forbidding two storey cottage with little to show that Clarissa, with her blue eyes and sweet smile, lived here. It was her father’s domain and he was not looking forward to meeting Mr. Debenham.

From the things Clarissa had said and what he had worked out for himself, reading between the lines, he did not think he was going to like him. And yet it was important that Mr. Debenham liked him if he was to continue his gentle friendship with his daughter. He did not ask himself why it was so important to him to keep mee

ting with Clarissa but he had no illusions that if Mr. Debenham determined he was not to see Clarissa again, then it would be so. She would not disobey him. He had the impression that all her life she had lived under his thumb and it was hardly likely she would wriggle out from under it now, was it?

All Alistair knew was that it would be a pity if he could not walk with her again, or make her smile. He was making such good progress. Her smile was so much more natural now and her laughter had an unforced sound. She was happier altogether and he did not want her to slip back into her former gloomy ways.

Of course when he went back to sea she would be alone again. Well, he corrected himself, she would be without him! But Alistair was determined to write to her; to find amusing little anecdotes to tell her and then when he wrote them he could imagine her smiling.

Clarissa opened the door to him. She had already told him they did not have a maid, only a man who came to chop the wood and do some gardening. Clarissa did everything else. Alistair could imagine her waiting on her father hand and foot and being criticised constantly by him for doing nothing properly—not like her saintly mother.

She looked anxious, a little pale, and he knew she’d been worrying about his visit. Impulsively he took her hand and squeezed it gently.

“You didn’t have to do this you know.”

“I did,” she said determinedly. “I wanted to.”

“Well, let’s get it over with then.”

Clarissa nodded and led the way into the house. The little parlour was rather shabby but he could see she had picked some flowers from the garden and arranged them in a tiny vase. The table was set with a lacy cloth and her best china. There were sandwiches, cake and some scones with jam and clotted cream, as well as a teapot steaming with tea.

“Father,” she said with false cheer, “here is Lieutenant McKay.”

The man’s face was deeply lined and they were not laugh lines, Alistair thought with a mental grimace. Clearly he had been unhappy for a long time, probably since his wife died. But surely any father would have made an effort to shake off his depression for his daughter’s sake? Not this man, Alistair decided. It was as he feared—he could not like him—but he made an effort to please.

“Mr. Debenham, how do you do?”

The man nodded, sizing him up, and he was no fool. “You have made the acquaintance of my daughter, sir, and she seems determined you should make mine. I believe you are awaiting orders to return to your ship?”

“Aye, I am. It shouldn’t be long now and I will be off into the fray with Boney again.”

They spoke stiffly about the war while Clarissa bustled about with tea and food, nervous as a kitten in the company of two growling dogs. When the subject of the war flagged she found something else for them to talk about; at least for her father to lecture them about—the state of education in little country schools like the one Clarissa taught at and how poorly they compared to the grammar schools, which he admitted could not be afforded by everyone. He had taught at a grammar school in a city as a young man, he said, and everything was superior, far superior, to the little school in Lyme where he’d gained the position of headmaster. He’d tried to introduce Latin and Greek to the children in Lyme but they preferred simple arithmetic and spelling. How could one teach children who did not wish to learn? Alistair pretended to be interested, but when Clarissa had to leave the room for a moment her father dropped all pretence of politeness.

“My daughter has no money,” he said bluntly, eyeing Alistair coldly. “I’m afraid a headmaster makes little, and I only have enough to see out my retirement. When I die there may be twenty pounds, no more. Clarissa will have to work for her upkeep.”

He was furious. “I’m afraid I don’t follow you, sir,” he said coldly, although he did, all too well.

“I assume you are after her money,” he said, waving a dismissive hand. “Clarissa is an innocent so she wouldn’t realise. Poor little thing hasn’t much to recommend her but I had hoped she and Marly might marry. I rather like Marly.”

“You are misinformed,” he said, when he had unclenched his teeth. “I have money of my own and hope to make more before this war is over. The only interest I have in your daughter is her delightful company while I await my orders.”

The man stared at him blankly as if he couldn’t believe it but said nothing else. They both sat quietly until Clarissa returned.

She was paler than ever and Alistair wondered if she had overheard the conversation. As soon as was polite he rose and said he must go back and Clarissa went with him to the door.

“I will call upon you tomorrow with the carriage,” he said.

Her eyes widened. “But we were going to meet at the Cobb, in case . . .”

“In case your father forbade it?” he said. “I don’t care if he does. I want him to know we are going out driving together. I want him to realise what a treasure he has in his daughter. And you, my bonnie lassie, must learn to stand up to him.”

She blinked, and then she smiled. “If you think . . .”

“I do, indeed I do.”