The best of everything had been bespoken and they were given the attention such expense merited. Serena and Millie were almost sorry when the carriage turned into the impressive stone gates and began the final stage of their trip down the three miles of impeccably tended drive.
The length of this, and the splendour of the park, silenced even the girls. Lady Althea's head turned eagerly, noting changes and recognizing landmarks she had not seen for twenty-two years. Emily sat, staring straight ahead, feeling more nauseous by the minute. She wished that she could vanish from the silk-lined coach and miraculously return to Glebe House.
She realized that her decision to sacrifice her own happiness to provide security for her sisters was not going to be easy. The nearer they got to their destination the more frightened she became. She wished she had not eaten so heavily at breakfast.
“Stop; please—stop.” She banged frantically on the coach roof and the vehicle lurched to a standstill. Not waiting for the steps, Emily threw open the door, jumped down, and ran for the privacy of the bushes where she cast up her accounts; she was watched with concern by her mother, amusement by her sisters but disgust by the man, mounted on a magnificent chestnut stallion, his presence hidden by the overhanging branches of the yew trees.
Chapter Three
Jenny, seeing her mistress's distress, scrambled down from her place in the following carriage. Emily finished her retching and wiped her mouth on the damp cloth Jenny handed to her. Her head was spinning and her knees weak. “Thank you, Jenny. I am recovered now.”
She stepped away from the bushes and stood whilst her maid attempted to restore order to her appearance. She glanced up to see three anxious faces watching from the carriage. Pinning a smile to her pale face she walked back and climbed slowly up the steps that had been lowered in her absence by one of the postilions.
“I'm so sorry, Mama. I do believe that something I ate at breakfast must have disagreed with me.”
“And I am sorry, my dear. I should have got down to assist you. But I am no use in such circumstances, as you well know.”
“Please do not apologise, Mama. I'm quite old enough to vomit on my own.” She heard a smothered giggle. “It's quite permissible to laugh girls. I'm not so stuffy as to object.”
Amelia grinned. “You were very sick, Em; I'm so relieved that you got out of the carriage in time.”
Emily joined in the laughter. “Amen to that, Millie.” She reached up tapped, gently, on the roof, and the carriage resumed its stately process down the drive.
Whilst the girls exclaimed in wonder at the extent of the rolling parkland and the handsome trees both Emily and Lady Althea sat silently, immersed in their own thoughts. Lady Althea had no reservations about her return to Westerham. It was where she belonged now that her husband was no longer alive. She had accepted her reduced circumstances happily when she was sharing them with her beloved Peter. Without him the misery of her penury had quite overwhelmed her.
She knew that now she had returned she would get well again and be able to take her place in society. Lady Althea glanced down at her new dress and her thin lips curved in appreciation. Soon her father would replenish the whole of her wardrobe and she could start re-establishing herself in the ton. The season had barely begun; in a few weeks she was certain that she would be strong enough to enjoy escorting Emily to the balls, soirees, and musical evenings on offer in London.
Emily's thoughts were not so sanguine. Her mother's happiness, maybe her very life, was dependent on her fulfilling her grandfather's wishes. She had no doubt that his benevolence was linked to her marriage to his heir, the Viscount Yardley. If he had truly wished to restore their fortunes he could have done so two years since, when he received the first letter asking for help.
She looked across at her mother, so thin and frail, but at least she was smiling. Edwards had assured her Lady Althea was no longer taking laudanum every night to help her sleep. Everything rested on Emily's shoulders. Well, they were strong enough; she had been running Glebe House, and educating her sisters, for the past two years. She doubted that many 19-year-olds could do as she had done. Compared to that, persuading her cousin Sebastian to make an offer should present no difficulty .
“Em, Emily, look, look at the house! It looks just like a castle.” Serena tugged at her sister's sleeve to gain her attention.
Sorry, Serena, I was wool-gathering. Are we there?” Emily leaned forward and peered out of the window. “Good heavens, it's huge! And you never said it was half castle, Mama.”
“Did I not, my dear, I must have forgot.” Her mother joined them at the open window. “It is exactly as I remember it. I am so glad that I am back here at last. I have missed Westerham every day I have been away.”
Emily's brow creased a little. Was her mother's enthusiasm unnatural? Surely all young woman understood they had to leave the familial home when they embarked on matrimony? Was this obsession with Westerham a sign that she was still unwell after her prolonged period of mental instability?
“Well, you're home now, Mama. I cannot wait for you to show us all the places that you have talked about so much.”
Her mother finally focused on her eldest daughter. “You still look a trifle hagged, my dear. Pinch your cheeks and press your lips together; try and restore some colour to your face. You want to make a good impression, do you not?” Lady Althea smiled and for the first time in two years humour was reflected in her eyes. “I believe that one pallid individual is quite enough for this family, do not you?”
Emily laughed out loud; the relief at her mother's return to normality replacing her anxiety about making a favourable impression. “We do look like a pair of underfed sparrows, don't we? But I'm certain will both be robust again now that we're here.”
“There're dozens of footmen waiting outside to greet us, Em. They look like soldiers on parade with all that green and gold frogging,” Amelia commented in awe.
“Do I have to speak to them?” Serena sounded anxious, as the horses dropped to a sedate walk.
“No, darling; you merely nod and smile at servants. Never offer your hand, curtsy or say thank you. It is not done, you know.”
“Not say thank you, Mama? That's so impolite. Emily has always told us we have to treat our staff with respect.”
“That was all very well, Serena, at Glebe House. But here, at Westerham, things are done differently. You do not want the staff to consider you ignorant, do you?” Serena shook her head, all her pleasure squashed by her mother's words. She shrunk up against Emily's side and pushed her cold hand into her sister's. Emily squeezed it and tried to smile. It was not a very convincing effort.
The coach shuddered to a halt and there was instant activity. Two footmen jumped forward, one opened the door whilst the other pulled the steps into position. The three girls sat immobile, but Lady Althea surged forward. Regally she held out her hand and a footman took it and guided her to the ground. He bowed again, she nodded. Without waiting to see if her daughters followed she walked forward, nodding from time to time, her head high, the ostrich plumes on her bonnet bobbing as she went.
Emily realized they had to move. “Come along, girls, we're getting left behind.” She stood up and, still clasping Serena's hand stepped out, ignoring the bowing footman. She waited, back straight, for Amelia to jump down after her, and set off, not wishing her mother to vanish and leave them alone, surrounded by a sea of unfriendly, supercilious servants.