When Antonia waved two sheets of hot-pressed paper Donna put down her needlework and asked placidly, ‘Is that the answer to the advertisement in The Times? Do stop jigging around the room, dear, and let me see.’
Antonia whirled to a halt on the newly-cleaned salon carpet and handed over the letter. ‘I am so relieved. After putting all this work in hand, I must admit to dreadful apprehension that we would not find a tenant willing to take it.’
‘I, too,’ Donna confessed as she smoothed out the sheets to con them again. ‘After all, it is almost four weeks since you wrote. So much money has been spent, although I must say it is most pleasant to be able to sit in here, instead of sharing the kitchen with Mrs Brown, especially now the weather is so fine.’
They both turned to look from the wide bay window across the green swathe of lawn, finally responding to Old Johnson’s frequent scything. The fine weather had allowed the workmen to complete almost all their work on the Hall and tomorrow they would commence the smaller task of making the Dower House habitable again.
The river glinted in the sunlight, recalling her moonlight encounter with Marcus Renshaw. Antonia struggled to suppress the nagging feeling of disappointment that struck her every time she thought of that incident. She had honestly expected him to call again, to start wooing her.
She had teased herself, wondering if he was interested in her for herself or her property, and then had felt disheartened on learning that he had left for London the following day. She told herself that it would teach her not to jump to conclusions, or indeed, flatter herself that a duke would have serious intentions towards someone with no fortune, no sophistication, no experience. I would make the most inadequate duchess.
It was a wonder that he had spent so much time in the neighbourhood. Surely dukes had a full social calendar in London and business to transact on their many estates?
‘Are you attending, my dear?’ Donna had obviously been speaking for some minutes. Antonia recalled herself and apologised. ‘I was saying that Mr Blake states his intention of calling the day after tomorrow unless he hears to the contrary. I do believe we should send a positive response today, because we are quite ready to receive him.’
‘Yes, you are right. That would create a good impression and it is important that he convince his principal that this property is perfect for him.’
Antonia felt far from confident that she could negotiate the lease successfully. She had still not told Donna that it was only with Marcus’s intervention that the bank loan had been granted. By herself, she had failed utterly with Mr Pethybridge and Mr Jeremy Blake was a man of business too, probably one cut from the same cloth. And this time she could hardly call on the Duke of Allington to negotiate on her behalf, even if he had been at Brightshill.
Two days later Donna was flitting around with a duster polishing wood that already gleamed and driving Antonia to distraction. She was nervous enough about their visitor as it was. ‘Please, Donna, come and sit down, Mr Blake is due at any moment. Oh, listen. Is that a chaise I hear now?’
Donna thrust the duster under the sofa cushions and patted her hair firmly under her cap. Antonia smoothed out the folds of her only respectable morning gown and cast a hasty glance in the over-mantel mirror. She felt confident her appearance would impress an elderly lawyer. Her unruly hair was caught back smoothly under a blue ribbon, her high-necked dress was trimmed chastely at collar and cuff with Brussels lace and her only ornaments were a good amber set inherited from her mother.
She turned as their newly appointed maidservant announced, ‘Mr Blake, ma’am.’
A man scarcely older than herself stood on the threshold of the salon. Mr Blake was a pleasant-looking gentleman with a cheerful, plain face, neatly trimmed brown hair and immaculately fashionable, if sober, clothing. He was a far cry from the desiccated lawyer they had be expecting.
And if they were taken aback, so too was Mr Blake, it seemed. He was not quite quick enough to conceal the look of first, surprise, and then perhaps, pleasure as she stepped for
ward to greet him. He had his expression under control before he took her proffered hand.
‘Good day, Mr Blake, I trust you had a pleasant journey from Town.’
‘Thank you, ma'am. I spent the night in Berkhamsted at the White Hart in tolerable comfort.’
‘May I present my companion, Miss Donaldson.’
Antonia suspected that Donna was more in the style he had been expecting. He exchanged polite bows with Donna and accepted both the seat and the cup of tea that were offered.
‘I realise you have only had the most cursory of first impressions of Rye End Hall,’ Antonia said, attempting to sound unconcerned, ‘but may I ask if this is the sort of property your principal is seeking?’
‘Yes, indeed,’ Mr Blake said warmly, then apparently seeing the dangers of appearing too eager, recollected himself. ‘That is to say, the location is precisely what Sir Josiah desires, and the house appears charming.’
‘Sir Josiah?’
‘I think there is no harm in revealing that I represent Sir Josiah Finch, who returned from the East Indies some twelve months ago and is now desirous of settling in this area from whence his family originated.’
‘How very interesting. No doubt he will find the countryside hereabouts a great contrast to the Indies.’
They continued to exchange pleasantries while the tea was drunk. Antonia talked on, doing her best not to betray her instinct that Mr Blake was not only very favourably disposed towards the Hall, but also towards herself. It was very pleasing to feel admired, and she was enjoying the respectful appreciation in Mr Blake’s eyes.
‘Another cup of tea, Mr Blake? No?’ Antonia rose to her feet. ‘Then may I take you on a tour of the Hall?’
As they crossed the entryway, Antonia paused to allow him time to observe its proportions. ‘Are you well acquainted with Sir Josiah?’
‘Indeed, I am, Miss Dane. We are related by marriage.’
‘I asked as I was wondering if he intended bringing his family. There is ample accommodation.’