Free A Second Spring by Carola Dunn Page B

over the reins of the household. That was not enough for Phyllis, whose chief joy in life was the exercise of authority. First, Miss Lindisfarne must go.
    Lindy, Nell’s governess before she went away to school, had returned as her companion when her mother died. But Nell needed no companion, Phyllis said, now that her brother’s wife was living at Brantwood. Nell would have fought, but Miss Lindisfarne, foreseeing endless battle, chose a graceful retirement.
    At once Nell made plans for them to set up house together. Her personal income was adequate for a perfectly comfortable existence with as many of the elegancies of life as interested either. Phyllis was horrified. Everyone would say she had driven her husband’s sister from her home.
    For Bertie’s sake, Nell stayed. Envying Lindy her escape, she frequently visited her friend at her cottage near Hungerford, some five-and-twenty miles distant. Phyllis promptly made it plain that she didn’t actually want her sister-in-law at Brantwood. It was Nell’s duty to find a husband and remove herself in an unexceptionable way for which no one could hold Phyllis to blame.
    So Nell had accepted Lord Clifford.
    “I cannot live with a man who never laughs,” she said firmly as Agnes loosely plaited her hair for the night. “We shall go and live with Miss Lindisfarne.”
    “Just give me the word, my lady, and I’ll pack.”
    “Bless you, Agnes. What should I ever do without you?”
    Nell felt much better for having come to a decision. She fell asleep quicker than she had in weeks, but when she woke in the small hours of the morning, all the difficulties seemed overwhelming.
    The moment she revealed that she meant to cry off, the nagging would start. Phyllis was quite capable of following her to Lindy’s and making both their lives a misery. In the end, if only for the sake of peace, Nell would give up and return to Brantwood. She’d find herself tied for life to a man she didn’t know.
    Throwing a wrap about her shoulders, she went to sit on the windowseat. Maera scrabbled out from under the bed and came to lay a heavy, loving head in her lap. Outside, beneath a full moon, white candles bloomed on the chestnut trees in the park and the fragrance of lilac wafted in through the open window. Under the calming influence of the May night, the answer came to her.
    If she disappeared the day before the wedding, it would be too late for anyone to fetch her back.
    To desert him at the last minute was not very fair to Lord Clifford, she acknowledged, but it was not as if they were to be married at St George’s, Hanover Square, before half the peerage. Besides, it allowed him three more weeks to reveal to her what sort of man he was. If he showed himself to be a real person with feelings to be hurt, she would reconsider.
    If he remained distant, impassive, uninterested in discovering what sort of person she really was, let him look elsewhere for a bride.
    She went back to bed and slept soundly.
    * * * *
    In the three weeks to follow, Nell received two letters from her betrothed. One informed her that he was at his country house, refurbishing and redecorating the apartments which would be hers. Apparently it did not dawn on him to consult her taste in colours and furnishings. The second letter informed her that he would be unable to arrive at Brantwood until the eve of the wedding as he had business in London the previous day. He failed to explain his business and expressed only the most polite, proper, perfunctory regret.
    Both missives addressed Nell as “Madam,” and were signed with equal formality, “Your most obedient, humble servant, Clifford.” She didn’t expect professions of undying love, but still…
    Nell told Agnes to pack.
    “I wish you could come with me,” she said, “but Miss Lindisfarne’s cottage is far too small. You shall join me as soon as I have found a suitable house to rent. In the meantime, I wish you would take a holiday and visit that brother