THE BARONET'S DAUGHTER

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE (Finale)

             CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

LATE AUGUST, CHARNOCK PARK, NORTHAMPTONSHIRE

Eleanor was at the bureau in the library writing to Lady Susan Birkett when James Cooper, her house steward entered the room.

‘A visitor, Miss Wellesley,’ he said.

Surprised, Eleanor looked at the clock on the mantelpiece.

‘At this hour? It is barely ten o’clock of the morning. Who is it, James?’

‘A gentleman. Major Ambrose Warburton.’

‘What!’ Eleanor rose quickly to her feet, almost stumbling in her astonishment. All at once she was flustered.

‘I mean...show Major Warburton into the drawing room, please, James.’

When James had gone Eleanor sat down again; her legs feeling weak. Ambrose Warburton had come to see her and she wondered why. Their parting in London had been so acrimonious she thought she would never see him again. What did it mean? Her heart began to pound at the thought of coming face to face with him. What more had they to say to each other?

Eleanor rose and walking to the mantelpiece looked at her reflection in the mirror above. Her skin had darkened in the summer sun, and she thought she must look almost countrified by now.

She smoothed down her simple morning gown. If only she had put on something more fashionable this morning. He would find her much changed for the worse.

Composing herself, she straightened her back and went out into the hall to walk to the drawing room. As she entered a familiar tall broad-shouldered figure turned from the open French windows and faced her.

He wore a riding outfit of buckskin, with high black leather boots. The scars he had received when fighting were now hardly visible. He looked as he had when she had first met him.

Eleanor’s mouth went dry at the sight and she wondered if she would be able to speak.

‘Ambrose,’ she did managed to say.

He dipped his head to her. ‘Eleanor, I hope I find you good health? You look remarkable well.’

Eleanor lifted a hand to her sun-tanned cheek in embarrassment.

‘Yes, I am very well, thank you,’ she answered quietly. ‘I trust you are the same, Ambrose.’

‘Yes, I am well.’

There was a small silence and then they spoke at the same time.

‘I...

‘I...

Another embarrassed pause and then Ambrose bowed again, and extended a hand in a gesture which suggested she should speak first.

‘I cannot believe you have ridden all night to reach here by this o’clock,’ she said.

‘I have been in the village two days,’ he said. ‘I am staying at the village inn.’

‘Two days?’

He looked discomfited. ‘I am ashamed to admit that it has taken me that time to gather my courage together to come to see you. I did not know what my welcome would be.’

‘You do me a disservice, Ambrose,’ Eleanor said gently. ‘No matter what has passed between us in the past, you would always be welcome in my home.’

He gave a little bow again. ‘You must see that I am a gauche individual,’ he said. ‘And have little finesse in the art of society manners. You must forgive an old soldier.’