It was not his duty she was worried about, it was his feelings, but the wretched man seemed ready to discuss anything rather than those. ‘No, I was not—’ she began.
‘Elliott!’ The man crossing the greensward was as tall as Elliott, but darker, slimmer and, as a ready smile creased his face, apparently more light-hearted at the moment.
‘Daniel.’ Elliott held out his hand and as the other man shook it enthusiastically she saw he bore a resemblance to both Elliott and Rafe.
‘Good to see you out and about after the funeral. Who would have thought it? In his prime, poor Rafe. I am having trouble believing it. Difficult for you.’
‘You could say that. Arabella, allow me to introduce you to my cousin, Mr Calne. Daniel, Miss Shelley.’
Bella smiled and shook hands. They were friends, she could tell at once. Elliott and his cousin had exchanged looks that said more than they had put into words. Why had he not told Mr Calne at once that they were to be wed? Surely the more relatives present, the more normal the whole thing would appear, not that she wanted to face them. Perhaps he thought she would be embarrassed. She nudged Elliott’s booted foot with her toe and he looked down at her. ‘I wonder if Mr Calne might not be free tomorrow?’
‘Of course. Our interview with the bishop has sent my wits wandering, obviously.’ He smiled. ‘Daniel, you must congratulate me. Miss Shelley and I are to be wed.’
There was a moment while his cousin stared at Elliott blankly. Bella had the fleeting impression that he was very surprised indeed. Then he seemed to pull himself together. ‘My dear fellow!’ Mr Calne slapped Elliott on the back and beamed at Bella. ‘My felicitations. And am I to guess from your reference to Bishop Huntingford that the ceremony is to be soon?’
‘Yes, tomorrow. Miss Shelley’s father does not approve the match, although she is of age, and things were becoming a trifle uncomfortable for her at home, so we have expedited matters.’
Bella took a firmer grip on Elliott’s arm and smiled warmly, trying to look like a loving fiancée. ‘Perhaps Mr Calne could solve our problem, dearest.’
Elliott’s eyebrows rose a trifle at the endearment. ‘Which one, my love?’ he countered, the corner of his mouth twitching.
There are so many, Bella thought, fighting the impulse to smile back. ‘Why, someone to give me away, of course.’
‘Of course.’ He smiled at her; obviously she had said the right thing. ‘Daniel? Will you do that duty?’
‘I would be honoured!’ Mr Calne beamed at both of them and Bella found herself smiling back. Elliott was pleased, at least one of his family was pleased and she liked the enthusiastic cousin.
‘Come for luncheon,’ Elliott said. ‘The ceremony will take place at three. You’ll stay the night?’
‘That would be delightful, if the new Lady Hadleigh has no objections. I have concluded my business in Worcester and I will be returning to my home, which is some way beyond Hadleigh Old Hall,’ he explained to Bella. ‘It would be most pleasant to break my journey. Now, I will bid you farewell—I am sure you would much prefer your own company just at the moment. I will see you this evening, Elliott. Until tomorrow, Miss Shelley.’ He resumed his hat and strode off.
‘He seems very pleasant,’ Bella commented. Elliott was silent and her heart sank. She had erred, been too forward, and they were not even married yet. ‘I am sorry,’ she ventured. ‘I’m afraid I—’
‘There is no need to apologise,’ Elliott said brusquely. ‘You are about to become the Countess Hadleigh, you are not the vicar’s daughter any longer.’
She was afraid, that was the problem—there were so many things she could get wrong—and now perhaps she had irritated Elliott and, whether he liked it or not, just now he was the only stable point in her universe. She bit her lip; it seemed at the moment that she had the strength for only one thing at a time, and a dissatisfied fiancé was one too many. Courage, she told herself.
‘I’m s
orry.’ Elliott stopped and looked down at her. ‘Of course you are anxious. Daniel’s a good fellow, and an optimist. I sometimes think he will be making a merry quip in the middle of the Day of Judgement. He’s a lawyer, a hard worker. He got on Rafe’s nerves—too solid, not enough fun.’
Bella heard the edge to his voice when he mentioned Rafe, but at least he was not cross with her. She let him tuck her hand under his elbow as they began to walk again.
‘His father, my Uncle Clarence, who died some time ago, was my father’s only brother. His widow lived in London with my father’s two sisters until she died last year. You will meet them when we go up to town next year.’
‘Will you not invite them to the Hall?’ Surely that would be usual, with a new wife to introduce to the family. ‘Or should we not visit them?’ She dreaded the thought, but there would be no avoiding that duty. All families with any pretensions to gentility kept up the tradition of bride visits. She glanced round as they passed under the great medieval gate arch, momentarily distracted by the pinkish stone, so very different from Suffolk plaster and brick.
‘They rarely travel and I imagine you would prefer to find your feet before entertaining a houseful of demanding ladies.’ Elliott put out a hand to stop her as a man went past with a basket full of salmon on his head, still dripping from the river. ‘As for going up to London before the end of the year, I do not think the Town house is in a fit state.’
That must be an excuse. Rafe had mentioned his London home; he could hardly have been living in squalor. Presumably Elliott did not want her exposed to his relatives until she had acquired some of the polish a viscountess required, or he was embarrassed because her pregnancy would show by then.
It was lowering that he was ashamed of her, but, under the circumstances, hardly unexpected. And perhaps he had his mistress in London, another lowering thought. Fashionable marriages accommodated such unsavoury realities, she knew. She must learn to accept it and not embarrass Elliott with her provincial attitudes.
‘Very well, Elliott.’ Out of the corner of her eye she saw him give her a quizzical look, but he did not challenge this meekness. ‘Then your relatives at the Dower House are on your mother’s side?’
‘Yes. Great-Aunt Alice is my mother’s older sister, Lady Abbotsbury, and Dorothy her unmarried daughter. There are three other daughters, all married and living some distance away. I expect you will soon make acquaintances in the area.’
‘Is local society congenial?’ The thought of new friends, probing and becoming intimate, was unsettling. They would be more people to hide the truth from.