Page 69 of Lady Audacious
He shook his head. ‘And it’s all my fault.’
‘It is not your fault. It’s no one’s fault, other than perhaps my brother’s. He claims that I was in danger and says that he did what he thought was best to protect me. I have yet to decide if that is the truth, but I somehow doubt it.’
‘I have met the man. Can’t say that I took to him. He’s weak and allows his life to be governed by his wife.’
‘As you allowed yours to be by your father and brother. It must run in the family.’
‘Your resentment runs deep, my dear, and I cannot blame you for it.’ The old man dabbled at his cheeks with a handkerchief.
‘Lord Amberley and I suspected as much of my brother,’ Odile continued, ‘but at least he provided for me. He made sure that I inherited this house and had sufficient funds to restore and maintain it. His wife was not aware, and I am absolutely sure it’s the only secret he’s ever kept from her. Now that she’s aware she is desperate to know me but I have not replied to her letter. I don’t think I will.’
Her grandfather inclined his head. ‘You show great good sense, my dear. I cannot imagine how it must have felt to have no memory of your childhood.’
‘And yet I could read and write, and I remembered all the things I had been taught before the accident.’ She frowned. ‘I have often wondered how such a thing is possible.’
‘There have been marked scientific advances recently. Some of the sharpest minds at the Royal Academy have made astonishing discoveries about the workings of the human brain. I must confess that I don’t understand half of them, even though I read all the papers they publish. The subject interests me; more so now that I am aware of your problems. Anyway, it appears that the brain compartmentalises. Some might argue that the trauma of the accident and the subconscious knowledge that you had lost your parents was so brutal that your brain closed out all aspects of that part of your former life. It was simply too painful for a little girl to absorb.’
‘But learning about mathematics and memorising the names of all the kings and queens of England was not distressing?’
Her grandfather laughed. ‘Not in the same way. Do you remember anything, now that you know the truth?’
Odile shook her head. ‘Occasional brief flashbacks. I recognised the gardens here as soon as I stepped into them. I felt as though I belonged and could sense my mother’s presence, if that makes any sense. Anyway, I am glad that you made the effort to travel all this way and that I have a relative whose company I can tolerate.’
The old gentleman harrumphed, then took her hand and squeezed it. ‘Thankyou, my dear, for forgiving a stubborn old fool and making his final years very happy.’
Her grandfather stayed for an hour. He did most of the talking, explaining about his life in Scotland and how surplus to requirements he felt now that his son ran the estate and his grown daughters were married with children of their own whom he seldom saw.
‘Wastrels, the lot of them,’ he barked.
Only after he left did it occur to Odile that he hadn’t mentioned how long he intended to remain in the district, or made any arrangements to see her again. Perhaps he had seen enough, she decided. He had satisfied his curiosity, salved his conscience and intended to return to Scotland at the first opportunity.
Odile shrugged, telling herself that she didn’t care. She had survived alone all these years without depending upon anyone. It was safer that way. She had let her guard down around Reuben, allowed him to touch her heart, and he had left her. Just as Mama and Papa had left her. Just as her brother hadn’t wanted to know her.
‘I don’t need anyone,’ she told Willow the following morning as they returned to their endeavours in the garden.
She glanced up when she heard Emily’s voice calling a greeting. She’d been preoccupied, no doubt too busy feeling sorry for herself to have heard her splashing across the stream. Only as she stood up did she realise that she had not arrived on foot. Instead, she had been driven here in one of Reuben’s carriages. Presumably she was on her way to make calls and had stopped by for a moment or two. She realised her mistake when Emily advised her to change into a gown.
‘Why?’ Odile protested. ‘Where are we going?’
‘It is to be a surprise. You will just have to exercise patience.’ Emily clapped her hands. ‘Hurry up. There’s no time to waste.’
Odile washed, removing smudges of earth from her face and the odd twig from her hair. Suitably attired she became more curious by the moment as their carriage made its way into Chichester and stopped outside of a fashionable modiste’s establishment.
‘What on earth are we doing here?’ Odile asked, mystified.
‘You are invited to dine this evening and I know you do not have a suitable evening gown, or indeed any evening gowns at all,’ Emily said airily.
‘To dine? With your family?’ Odile’s mouth fell open. ‘With the countess?’
‘Of course, silly. Your grandfather is with us and desires your company.’
‘Ah, that would be it.’ Just for a moment she had dared to hope that the invitation had been Reuben’s suggestion. She shook her head to dispel such a ridiculous notion. He had been thoughtful in instigating the reunion with her grandfather, and that was no doubt the extent of his interest in her. ‘But still, how can the gown be made so quickly?’
‘Oh, I placed the order last week,’ Emily replied airily. ‘I have a rough idea of your size. We’re about the same height. You can try it on now and they will make any necessary adjustments while we wait.’
Odile shook her head and followed Emily into the shop, unwilling to admit that she was just a little bit excited at the prospect of owning an evening gown. Besides, resistance would be futile. Emily was a force to be reckoned with when she made up her mind about something—and anyway, Odile didn’t want to resist. She deserved to be spoiled, and if she had to attend dinner at Amberley Hall beneath the gimlet gaze of the countess, she would need to look her very best.
Two hours later they returned to Fox’s Reach with her gown carefully packed in a protective muslin cover stowed in the carriage’s trunk. Odile was so shocked that she could scarcely utter a single word in response to Emily’s cheerful chatter. She hadn’t known that a well cut gown could give a person so much confidence. Emily had chosen burnished gold, almost exactly the same colour as Odile’s hair, in shimmering silk trimmed with cream Flemish lace. The extravagance had brought a protest to her lips—until she tried it on.
