A Masked Deception

Chapter 11

Nobody was ever quite sure where the idea for the Brampton Court Fair originated. All the house guests seemed to contribute some idea. It began perhaps with Margaret's suggestion to her husband that they give a large dinner party for all the leading families of the area. Someone-perhaps Brampton himself, perhaps Charles-added the idea that perhaps, since they were going to all the trouble of inviting and catering to so many people-eight families in addition to the house guests, they might as well have a ball too.

Someone else-Charlotte perhaps?-thought it a shame that only the wealthier families should be part of the festivities. Yet how could one invite all the tenants to dine at the house? Soon there was a tumult of suggestions, most of which centered around the idea of moving the activities out of doors.

Eventually some sort of ordered plan emerged. The festivities were to include all the tenants of the estate and their children, and the invited families of the neighborhood. And they were to begin during the afternoon. There were to be races, pony rides, and other games for the children, baking and needlework competitions for the women, games of skill and strength for the men. There were to be booths for drinks and other refreshments.

During the early evening, oxen and pigs were to be roasted on outdoor spits for the tenants to feast on while the invited guests dined in the house. In the evening there was to be a dance out on the flat, lower lawn before the house. It was to be an occasion at which the rich would rub shoulders with the poor.

Invitations were sent out, the house party was extended a few days beyond the two weeks-only Sir Henry and Lady Lucy would have to return to London before the big day-and the plans were put into effect with feverish energy by the earl and the countess.

Margaret was more grateful than ever to have such a competent housekeeper as Mrs. Foster. Without any indication that she had been given an unusual assignment, that good lady began to organize the preparation of the food. It was a prodigious task, as all the tenants were to be fed liberally throughout the afternoon and evening, in addition to the regular meals for the guests and inhabitants of the house and the banquet for close to forty people.

Brampton made all the financial arrangements and made all the plans for the afternoon fair and the setting up of a large board floor on the lawn for the dancers. He arranged for the hiring of extra staff and of an orchestra.

The guests found new enthusiasm in helping with the preparations. The Langford twins accompanied Faith and Susanna into the village to choose prizes for the various competitions. Charlotte and Charles undertook to organize the children's games. The dowager and Lady Romley agreed to see that enough lamps and lanterns were gathered to hang in the trees surrounding the lower lawn. Lord Romley was seen to confer with the butler on the ordering of wines. Annabelle promised to help Margaret with flower arrangements on the day.

Margaret found her time very full with duties and obligations. She was finding herself almost constantly tired. She both welcomed and resented her lack of leisure time. She welcomed the fact that she had little time to brood on her troubles. Yet she resented the fact that she could not find the time to sit quietly and think about her situation.

Nothing had changed with Richard, except that she saw less of him than ever. Almost the only times she ever saw him alone were in the library when they were going over together some plans for the fair, and for the ten minutes or so when he visited her room each night. And on those occasions he rarely said more than a good night as he was leaving. Only on one occasion had he stayed longer or said more.

He had been later than usual coming to her, and Margaret had been dozing, curled on her side, one hand beneath her cheek. She had opened her eyes when he sat on the edge of the bed and took one of her braids in his hand.

"I am sorry, Richard," she had said, turning on to her back. "I must have fallen asleep."

He had looked down at her, his eyes smiling, but not his mouth. "My poor dear," he had said, "this is a very tiring time for you, is it not?"

"Indeed, Richard, I enjoy all the activity," she had assured him.

"But you are pale, my dear, and I noticed tonight that you played with the food on your plate instead of eating it."

"Indeed I ate sufficient, Richard," she had protested.

"And I am a cruel and selfish husband to come demanding more of your energy when you only wish to sleep," he had teased gently, a strange twist to his mouth.

"No, Richard," Margaret had said, calling all her training to her aid to keep her voice calm and her face expressionless. Her hands beneath the bedclothes had been clenched into tight fists. "I am your wife. I am never too tired for you."

"Then do your duty and obey this command," he had said. "Sleep, my dear." He had continued to gaze smilingly into her face, unaware of the painfully beating heart beneath the bedcovers. He had lifted the heavy braid that he was still holding, and placed it against his lips. And his lips had finally smiled.

Margaret could not obey his command. After he had left, she had wept into her pillow until she had finally gained comfort from holding the braid he had kissed against her own mouth. She had fallen eventually into an exhausted sleep.

No matter how busy her mind or her body might be over other matters, Margaret was almost constantly aware of her now-sure pregnancy. She felt well. Her tiredness was the only discomfort. The thought of having Richard's child growing inside her filled Margaret with a secret ecstasy that almost choked her at times. No matter what happened, or did not happen, between them in the future, part of him belonged to her and would continue to do so. Surely he would demonstrate her love when he knew, she sometimes thought. And she hoped fiercely that the child would be a boy so that Richard would be pleased with her.

Then at other times she would remember that he had married her only so that she would breed his children. Why should he love her for merely doing the duty for which she had been chosen? And would he stop coming to her altogether once he knew that his visits were no longer necessary? The thought filled Margaret with cold terror. She decided that she would wait until she was more certain before telling her husband.

For his part, Brampton did not welcome quite so eagerly the demands on his time and energy. He had arrived at the Brampton Court desperate with un-happiness over the loss of his angel and almost cursing his fate that had held her from him until it was too late for them to let their love grow openly. He had found it difficult to accept his wife's quiet, uncomplaining presence in his life. He had kept his distance from her, in an effort not to inflict his own unhappiness and ill-humor on her. For a few days he had been wretched with self-reproach. How could he have let her go without at least acquiring enough information to allow him to contact her again if he wanted? Only in his saner moments did he admit that what had happened was inevitable. There was no other alternative.

He had come into the country with the determined resolution to put the past behind him and to make a new start on his marriage. He intended to spend more time with his wife, to get to know her better, to resume his physical relationship with her.

He had found that matters were turning out not quite as planned. The obligation to entertain his guests proved quite arduous, particularly after plans for the fair got under way. He saw his wife probably more frequently than he had during the rest of their married life, but he was almost never alone with her, except when the press of business made personal talk impossible.

At night he saw her, but he always made his visits as short as possible. It had not escaped his attention that she sometimes looked pale and tired. And he believed that her slight little figure was even thinner than it had been. He hoped that his suggested house party was not going to reduce her stamina to the point at which she would become ill.

Brampton also found that putting the past behind him and trying to work on his marriage was not as difficult as he had expected. Physically, he missed his angel terribly, but apart from that, he found there was not a great deal to miss. She had had a vitality and an impudence that had brightened his own mood, but really he had known almost nothing about her, not even her name. When he turned his attention to his wife, he discovered that she had great depth and strength of character. She was never a leading light among the people gathered at Brampton Court; one rarely heard her voice or noticed her-not unless one were deliberately watching. But Brampton began to notice that she was, in fact, a perfect hostess. She could initiate a conversation with just the right remark or question to set her companion talking on a favorite theme. Then she would sit and listen with a look of real interest.

He noticed that she quietly and unobtrusively ensured that everyone was always occupied in a way that would bring greatest satisfaction. And although Mrs. Foster was an efficient and able housekeeper, he noticed that it was his wife who really ran the household. And amazingly none of the servants seemed to resent the fact. In fact, Brampton noticed with fascination, they seemed to have a deep respect, even affection, for his wife.

Before many days had passed in the country, Brampton discovered that his wife was just the kind of person he would have liked his angel to be if he had had the chance to get to know her. Now if only his wife could have the life and passion of the other woman… He found himself wondering somewhat wistfully if she would allow herself to be loved, if he took the courtship very slowly and very gently.

But, he asked himself, did he want to love her? Was he ready to make the total commitment? He could not answer his own question with any satisfaction.

But he did know one thing: he was annoyed and-yes!-jealous of the friendship between his wife and Devin Northcott. He could not and did not suspect either of them of improper feelings for the other, but he resented the fact that they seemed to find it easy to converse with each other and to smile and laugh together.

Now he was concerned about his wife. She was not quite well, and he feared that this infernal fair would tax her strength beyond its limits. He found himself hoping, for the first time since his marriage, that he would not get her with child too soon. He feared that her tiny frame would make childbearing difficult for her.

The weather had turned cold and showery four days before the fair, so that everyone feared that the day was going to be ruined. However, the final preparations were put into effect the day before. Numerous booths were erected by the male servants and tenants on the lawns and in the closest meadow to the house. The women were busy at home baking or putting final stitches to the entries for the competitions next day. The wooden dancing floor was laid in place and stands erected for the orchestra. In the stables the grooms were giving unaccustomed attention to the two ponies to be used for the children's rides-brushing their coats and laying out ribbons to twine in their manes the next morning.

In the house the cook was threatening every half-hour to hand in her notice as she rushed through the endless lists of foods to be prepared and cooked. Yet during the afternoon, when the earl's chef arrived from London to help with the preparations, the threats continued for a different reason. Did his lordship think she was incapable of handling such an event on her own, without calling in "that man" who gave himself airs just because he was from the city?

Upstairs, the servants were busy, dusting, polishing, and rearranging for those guests who would be using the house. The house guests helped out where they could.

Much to everyone's delight and relief, the day itself dawned bright and cloudless. It promised to be a scorching day. Soon after noon, the earl's tenants began to gather below the house, all dressed in their Sunday clothes, all in holiday mood. One refreshment stand was already loaded with a tempting array of fruit drinks, tarts, cakes, and fudges; another with cold meat, fish pies, pasties, and other savory delicacies. The empty booths were soon covered with the exhibits of baking and needlecrafts that the women had entered for competition.

Soon the area before the house was bright with the colors of everyone's holiday clothes, loud with the talk and laughter of the adults, the cries and shrieks of the children. The house guests mingled gaily, watching the races and competitions, admiring the delicate needlework and the delicious-looking baked products on display.

Charlotte and Charles had assumed charge of the children's games. They had an audience of several fond parents, and-inexplicably-Devin Northcott. Nobody had ever suspected that he was fond of children He looked as if he had just stepped off Bond Street, with his coat of blue superfine, his biscuit-colored pantaloons, and gleaming Hessians; and he looked bored; but he was there, watching the little tykes run and jump and laugh and scream.

Charles had worked himself into a mood of high-spirited mischief. A three-legged race was next on the agenda, he noticed. He called together all the children and Charlotte divided them into pairs, roughly according to size. Charles began to explain to them how to run the race and how to work together with one's partner in order not to trip one another. He made the explanation deliberately vague and confused.

"Look, kiddies," he said finally while they all gazed worshipfully at his tall, handsome form, "you have to see this done to know how to do it. I could show you with Miss Wells here, but I am too tall-or she is too short, whichever way you want to look at it. Now, let me see…" He rubbed his chin reflectively with his hand and let his eyes rove shrewdly over the small crowd of adults. "Ah, yes, of course," he said, grinning, and apparently struck with an inspiration, "Mr. Northcott is just the man we need."

"Charles!" Charlotte hissed, feeling a distinct premonition of disaster. "What-"

"Mr. Northcott," Charles continued smoothly, completely ignoring his companion, "would you oblige us by demonstrating the three-legged race with Miss Wells here?"

"Charles!"

"Yes, yes, Mr. Northcott," chorused several children's voices, and they all began clapping and cheering.

"Nasty little devils," reflected Devin without moving a facial muscle.

"Charles, are you mad?" Charlotte flared in a furious whisper. "It would not be at all proper."

"The lady is concerned with the proprieties," yelled Charles to the most cooperative part of his audience. "Do we want to see Miss Wells and Mr. Northcott demonstrate this race, kiddies?"

"Yes!" they all shrieked, right on cue.

Over their heads, Charlotte, her face hot and dismayed, met the cool, amused eyes of Devin. He had the unspeakable effrontery to wink!

"Very well," said Charlotte with angry defiance. "Mr. Northcott?"

He strolled forward. "Miss Wells, d'ye mind if I take off my coat?" he asked, all London politeness again.

"Not at all, sir," she replied crossly. "Please do not mind me."

And then her breath caught in her throat as he stripped off the coat and stood in his crisp white shirt. He was not a tall man, but he had a very masculine physique, she thought, before he turned his back to her. She admired his broad shoulders and the body that tapered to narrow waist and hips. She did not hear what Devin said to Charles as he handed over his coat.

"You've embarrassed the lady, Adair," he said coldly, one eyebrow raised disdainfully. "Bad ton, d'ye know?"

One difficulty was discovered as soon as Charlotte and Devin stood side by side and Charles approached them to tie a scarf around their legs. The scarf would have to be tied around their ankles as it was quite unthinkable for anyone to reach higher up Charlotte's leg than that.

Charlotte thought that she had never been so embarrassed as she felt when the scarf pulled her leg firmly against the hard surface of Devin's Hessian. But when Charles stepped back, she realized there was far worse to come.

"Used to do this all th' time with m' brothers and sisters," Devin explained, hoping to relax her by being matter-of-fact about the whole thing. "We have a better chance of not falling if we hold on to one another. Put your arm around m' waist." He put his own arm around her shoulders and gripped her upper arm.

Charlotte, utterly mortified, placed her arm around his waist and clung to a fistful of shirt, fearful that her hand might slip lower if she did not grip on to something.

"Now watch, kiddies," Charles' voice was cheerfully saying. "They are going to run to the white post and back again. Watch and see how easy it is."

"I'll count 'one, two," Devin was explaining to Charlotte. "Move the bound leg first. Ready?"

"I suppose so."

"Right. Here we go, then. 'One, two; one, two.' "

To the ecstatic cheering of the children, they moved down the meadow to the white post. Charlotte was shrinkingly aware of the heat and movement of Devin's body against her own. She had never encountered anything like such close proximity to a man before. She was terrified that she was about to be utterly missish and faint.

"Careful on the turn," Devin warned as they approached the white post.

Charlotte had a fleeting glimpse of jumping, cheering children as they rounded the post, and then she lost her stride. Devin pulled her toward him in an effort to recover their balance, and then toppled sideways-taking her with him, of course. She was conscious of sprawling over his hip; her head came to rest across his neck, her mouth against the bare skin of his throat above his neckcloth. She pushed in panic against his chest, but without much effect; her body was angled downward.

Devin quickly and firmly lifted her off his body and set her down on the grass beside him. He propped himself on one elbow and looked down at her.

"Are you hurt, Miss Wells?" he asked in concern.

"N-no, sir," she stammered, and swallowed nervously.

They both reached for something else to say and found nothing. They gaped foolishly, both suddenly aware of electricity in the air between them. Devin lifted his hand and opened his mouth. The hand seemed destined to find its way to her cheek; his mouth was about to utter heaven knows what sentiment. Neither achieved its goal.

"I never saw anything so funny since Colonel Brody's horse tossed him into a mud puddle just as he was lecturing our regiment on careless horsemanship," said Charles' voice before he broke off to roar with laughter. "The little kiddies are cracking up back there. You have made their day."

He knelt beside the hapless pair and untied the scarf that still bound them together at the ankle. Devin got to his feet and brushed himself off hastily. As he turned to help Charlotte up, he realized that he had been forestalled.

"Come on, Charlotte, my love," Charles said, still grinning, and grasping both her hands with his, he pulled her to her feet and straight into his arms.

"Poor little love," he said cheerfully, "are you all right?"

"Yes, thank you, Charles," she replied weakly into his shirt front. Devin stalked off at that point in the direction of his abandoned coat and the still-mirthful little devils, so did not hear the rest of her words. "But please remind me to give you a gentle push next time we are close to a duck pond, will you? You horrid man. How could you!"

"Well, you were talking about having to think of a plan," he said. "I was merely trying to lend a helping hand, my love. Trying to help tie the knot, and all that-pun intentional!"

"In future you can keep your hands to yourself, Captain Adair," she said haughtily. "Now, shall we get this race started?"

In the late afternoon, the dowager Countess of Brampton and Lady Romley judged the needlecraft and baking entries. Margaret presented the prizes from a dais especially erected for the occasion. Brampton himself presented the prizes to the men for the winners of the various contests of skill and strength. The dowager gave prizes to those children who were brave enough to mount the platform for them.

As the hot sun began to dip in the west, the men who had been chosen for the task lit a large bonfire in the far corner of the meadow and prepared to roast their evening meal. Gaily shouting children rushed into the nearby trees to gather more dry wood for the fire, and some lads and girls, hand in hand, followed them, only halfheartedly contributing to the growing pile of firewood.

In the meantime the people from the house had retired to their rooms to begin the long and serious task of cleaning up and getting ready for the evening banquet.

Charlotte, in her room, was still feeling mortified at the afternoon's encounter with Devin Northcott. Since realizing that she was in love with him, she had been very conscious of the age difference between them. Had he lost interest in her because she was a silly, green girl? He had been interested at the start, she felt sure. She had been determined to behave in a more sober and sophisticated manner when in his presence. She hoped to convince him that she could match his thirty years in behavior, even though she was in fact only eighteen.

And now look what had happened! He had seen her yelling and jumping and romping with a host of children, and he had seen her agree to an unseemly race with a gentleman, manacled by the ankle, and clinging to his shirt, just above the waistband, just like a hoyden! And falling all over him and getting her mouth soldered to his neck. It was all too humiliating to think of.

Charlotte marched over to the bellpull in her room and rang to demand of Kitty where her bathwater was. Normally she would not have been so rag-mannered, knowing as she did that the servants must be rushed off their feet with so much to do within the next couple of hours.

She paced her room, trying to block from her mind the shameful knowledge that she was glad they had fallen over. She would not for the world have missed that sensation of being pressed against Devin's hard male body and the warmth of his throat. What had he been about to do when that infernal Charles Adair had come along cackling with hysterical amusement? Kiss her? Declare his un-dying love for her? Propose to her? Brush a smut of dirt off her nose?

She shook herself with exasperation. Tonight, at any rate, she was going to be all demure femininity. She glanced anxiously at the gown laid out on the bed-a lemon-yellow satin underdress overlaid with white lace, golden ribbons to tie beneath her breasts and to thread through her auburn curls. Very pretty and very maidenly! She was going to look like someone just out of the schoolroom again, certainly not someone to attract the worldly and almost old Mr. Northcott!

Kilty and two other maids arrived with the bathwater just in time to save Charlotte's sanity.