“I am going to have a servant carry the tray and show you the way to your room,” she said. “You are in pain, Ben. And you may not deny it. I recognize the signs.”
“I suppose,” he said, “I am smiling too much.”
“Not too much,” she said, “but in too wolflike a way, with your teeth clenched. Quite frightening, in fact.”
He laughed at her as she straightened up and led the way to the door. He made his excuses to the group around him and followed her.
She had not forgotten, then, that travel did not agree too well with him. She had noticed that he was in pain though he had made an effort to disguise the fact.
Ah, Samantha.
It should seem like a sign of defeat that he was propelling himself about in a wheeled chair instead of walking with his canes, Samantha thought as she dressed later for dinner and the grand ball. Yet it was not. Somehow it was quite the opposite.
I am no longer ashamed to admit that my legs do not work as other people’s do. I am as I am.
Despite the fact that he had been in obvious pain—obvious to her, at least—she had been able to see a new confidence in him. He looked like a successful man who had found his place in the world and was at peace with it. And yet he was working for a salary for a man who was not even a gentleman by birth, while he was a titled gentleman with property and a fortune of his own.
Sir Benedict Harper was a fascinating mixture of contradictions, with which he seemed quite happy.
She had come to Cartref yesterday, bringing a delighted Gladys with her as well as Tramp, of course, who had taken up happy residence in the kitchen, where he had become a favorite during the past months. Ben had been expected yesterday but had not arrived even though she and her grandfather had waited up late for him. And today he had been the last of the guests to arrive. Each time someone else came, she had hidden her disappointment and growing sense of gloom behind smiles of welcome. He was just not going to come, she had concluded at last. Something had changed his mind. Perhaps it was the prospect of seeing her again. Perhaps he just could not face telling her that he had moved on since early summer, that he had no desire to renew or to further their acquaintance.
And then, when the gloom of early evening was already settling in, he had come.
She had forced herself to remain in the drawing room with everyone else while her grandfather went downstairs alone to greet him. It had been something of a shock to see him wheel himself into the room in a chair. She had sensed something different about him at the same time as he had looked so achingly familiar that it had amazed her she had not always been able to bring his face into clear focus in her memory.
His greeting had been warm despite his cool hands. Certainly he had watched her with steady eyes as she approached across the room. But he had been in pain, and their journey from County Durham had rushed back to her memory. Of course he was in pain—and hiding the fact behind smiles and warm handshakes, the foolish man, and so there had been no chance for further conversation with him.
Ah, but if she had ever doubted it during the last few months, she doubted no longer. She loved him utterly, totally, pain and lame legs notwithstanding. She loved him.
But perhaps he had come here only to discuss business with Grandpapa.
“There, Mrs. McKay,” Gladys said. “I do like your hair with some curls and ringlets. And you look awfully good in royal blue. The color would swallow up most women, me included, but you can take it with your bold coloring. I wish I was dark like you. I bet all the single men will have an eye for you tonight and some of the married ones too, I don’t doubt, though I oughtn’t to say it out loud, ought I? My mam says it comes natural to men to look at women no matter if they are married or not. That major is here, isn’t he? I thought he was ever so gorgeous back in the summer there. I was disappointed when he went away and nothing happened. Disappointed for you, I mean, not for me. That would be silly. But he has come back even if he was late and almost missed the ball. I bet he will have an eye for you. He did back then, but I suppose he knew you was in mourning for Mr. McKay and it wouldn’t be right to press his attentions on you, didn’t he? You aren’t now, though. Are you glad to see him? I bet you are.”
“It is very pleasant to see him again,” Samantha said.
“Ho, I bet it’s more than pleasant,” Gladys said. “Even more than very pleasant. There. Your necklace is done up. I always have trouble with that particular catch. You are ready to go. Oh, you look a treat.”
“Thank you,” Samantha said, laughing, and she wondered for a moment what Matilda would think of a maid like Gladys. But Matilda was someone from her long distant past even though it was considerably less than a year since they had been living together at Bramble Hall.
She went downstairs early in order to step into the ballroom to see that all was ready for later. Not that it was her responsibility. Her grandfather had made all the arrangements.
The ballroom was large and two stories high. Floor-length mirrors on both long walls made the room seem even larger and multiplied the effect of all the Christmas greenery with which it was decorated. The wood floor gleamed. There were instruments on the dais—the orchestra members would be downstairs having their dinner. Three great chandeliers rested on the floor. All the candles would be lit just before the ball, and they would be raised to hang from the ceiling.
It seemed an extravagance to have such a room in the depths of the country, but her grandfather had told her it had almost always been used several times each year for balls and fetes and grand banquets.