It had not dawned upon him, though, until now that these people were his people, that they shared a background and heritage and memories with him, that they had known him most of his life, that they were, in fact, fond of him.
They were all eager to meet his wife, and it struck Jasper that word of the scandal that had precipitated them into marriage had undoubtedly arrived here. But rather than looking upon him with disapproval and Katherine with suspicion, everyone seemed more inclined to take their own to their collective bosom and let the world beyond their neighborhood go to the devil.
It was clear to him that they all fell in love with Katherine almost as soon as they met her. She had beauty, of course, and charm and a way of dressing that was smart and elegant without in any way suggesting that she was trying to put on town airs. Her roots were in a country village. These might not be people she knew, but they were people with whom she could identify. And they recognized that in her and respected it and liked her the better for it.
And she had a way of showing interest in everyone, of deflecting attention away from herself and onto them. She listened to their stories, their woes, their triumphs, their jokes, their reminiscences of the past and always responded appropriately.
And of course-he might have expected it-she had only to mention the idea of reviving the Cedarhurst summer fete and ball for everyone to exclaim with delight and offer to help in any way they could. The older people remembered the fetes as the high point of the year and had wondered when his lordship intended restoring them.
“It had not occurred to me,” Jasper explained more than once as they moved from house to house, “since the last one happened before my birth. Now that my wife is determined to revive it, however, I am all enthusiasm.”
For which pronouncement he was always favored with a dazzling smile from Katherine and fond nods of approval from his neighbors.
The younger people could not wait for the revival of something they had heard spoken about with happy nostalgia so often down the years.
Before the three days of visits were over, they had seen everyone there was to be seen and had drunk more cups of tea and consumed more cakes than Jasper had done in a decade. And the fete was well on the way to becoming a reality. Mrs. Ellis had agreed to head a committee to organize games for the children, Mrs. Bonner had volunteered to look after the needlework contests, Mrs. Penny had been unanimously declared the best one to be in charge of the baking contests, and Mr. Cornell had been persuaded by his wife and four daughters and a sister-in-law-he had not stood a chance, poor devil-to form a committee to plan games and activities for the men.
“And an ale-drinking booth will not suffice, Cornell,” Jasper had said with a straight face.
All the ladies had laughed heartily at the witticism but had then assured Cornell that indeed it would not.
And the Reverend Bellow, Miss Daniels’s betrothed, would take it upon himself to prepare a blessing to be delivered at the opening of the fete.
“For it has been brought to my attention, my lord and lady,” he said in the gentle, serious manner that had endeared him to all his parishioners, “that the old fetes were sometimes described as being the devil’s work-which a community celebration of the joys of summer and neighborly fellowship is assuredly not. But it will be just as well to let everyone know that the Lord’s blessing is upon such innocent amusements.”
“Oh, thank you, Mr. Bellow,” Katherine said. “We had hoped you would do something like this, had we not, Jasper?”
“Indeed,” Jasper said, raising his eyebrows.
It was all done, then. They had established themselves with their neighbors to such a degree that he guessed social life at Cedarhurst would be active for years to come. They were to reestablish the summer fete, probably as an annual event. They were expecting a houseful of guests and two weeks of frolicking. And there was to be an apple orchard planted at the east end of the house and a rose arbor beneath their private sitting room. They had been married for a little less than one week.
If he could have seen into the future just six weeks ago, Jasper thought, and seen this, he would have wept. Or got thoroughly foxed.
He actually felt remarkably cheerful.
Of course, there was still a three-legged race to be run, which might be quite entertaining if it was Katherine’s leg that was to be bound to his own.
And fruit tarts to judge-but country ladies were always the very best of cooks.
And country dances to be jigged. Hmm.
And a houseful of mostly very young persons to entertain. Plenty of giddiness and giggling to be expected there.
And a wager to be won.
And love to be fallen into. But he already liked her very well indeed. And he already desired her-a thought best avoided for the next three weeks or so.
He had never been very good at celibacy-not since he had lost his virginity at the age of eighteen, exactly one day after leaving Cedarhurst.
Though come to think of it, he had been celibate for almost a year when he had come back to Cedarhurst after Vauxhall.
Jasper spent a full morning with his steward. He looked strangely attractive when he set off for the home farm, clad in what looked like an old, somewhat ill-fitting brown coat and drab breeches that bagged slightly at the knees and top boots that had seen better days.
Katherine spent the early part of the morning in conference with Mrs. Siddon and the rest of the morning writing long-overdue letters to Margaret and Vanessa. It felt good to relax a little after the busyness of the past few days, though there was, of course, much to be done for the house party and the fete. She had no intention of leaving everything to the servants and the neighborhood committees. But today she was going to take off just for herself.
She changed into fresh clothes after a late luncheon taken alone since Jasper had not returned from the farm, and stepped outside. Her first plan was to go down into the parterre garden to sit. But she had not yet seen any other part of the park except from a distance, and the lake was not far away.
She walked past the stable block and down the sloping, tree-dotted lawn beyond it until she came to the lakeside. The lovely summer weather was still holding. There was scarcely a cloud in the sky or a ripple of a breeze. She opened her parasol, glad she had thought to bring it with her.
She went and sat on a little wooden jetty that jutted out into the water of the lake not far from a boathouse, her knees drawn up, one arm clasped about her legs, the other holding the parasol at an angle to shield her eyes from the sun. She was surrounded on three sides by water, which was glassy calm and a shade darker than the blue of the sky. Opposite her was a grassy bank, a wooded slope above it, and a little thatched stone cottage farther to the right, which she suspected was a folly, since it looked far too small to be a real habitation. Beside it, a waterfall fell like a ribbon over the steep bank. She could even hear it from where she sat-a peaceful, rural sound. A family of ducks swam across the water, a row of little ducklings in hot pursuit of their mother, leaving V-shaped trails behind them.
Behind her were the sloping lawn, the stables, the terraces and the house, and, behind it, in a great horseshoe arc, low, tree-covered hills.
There was something very special about Cedarhurst, something that spoke to her soul. She could sit just here forever, she believed, not reading or painting or doing anything useful, not talking, not even thinking. Just being. A part of it all. Solitude had always been something she had actively sought out whenever she could. There was never quite enough of it. Perhaps here she could find both a busy life to keep her mind off the negative aspects of her marriage and peace too.
And perhaps eventually there would be more solitude than she had ever wanted. She had not really looked beyond the next few weeks. What would happen after the house party was at an end and all the guests had returned home? Would he remain at Cedarhurst? Or would boredom soon drive him away, to return again for brief, unsatisfactory visits down the years? What could she offer that would keep him here with her, after all? And did she want to keep him with her?