The Nightingale Girls - By Donna Douglas Page 0,61

And he had done a good job of protecting Millie from the few unwelcome suitors who came her way, too.

But the idea of a ball was simply too exhausting. It was the first time she had been home to Billinghurst in months, and she had been looking forward to exploring the estate and getting to know her old home again.

‘We shall have to prepare,’ her grandmother said briskly. ‘We must decide on a suitable dress this morning, and then we shall have to try to do something with your hair . . .’

‘Actually, Mother, I was planning to take Amelia out with me,’ her father said. ‘I have to see a few of the tenants, and I know she will benefit from some fresh air after being in London for so long. That is, if you can bear to spend a couple of hours with your dull old father?’ He smiled questioningly at her.

‘Oh, yes, please!’ Relief flooded through her at the chance to escape.

‘As long as it is only a couple of hours.’ Lady Rettingham looked askance at her granddaughter’s hair. ‘I can see already we have a great deal to do.’

‘In other words, she wants to dress me up like a doll in a shop window,’ Millie said as she and her father rode out of the stableyard together, she on her favourite roan Mischief, and her father on Samson, his hunter.

‘You are her hobby, Amelia. Everyone must have an interest,’ he pointed out mildly.

Out of the stableyard, she dug her heels into Mischief’s plump flanks and took off down the lane, her blonde curls flying. Samson thundered behind her, easily keeping pace.

Further down the lane she turned off and galloped up the ridge of hill that looked over Billinghurst.

Millie took a deep breath of clean, fresh country air. How she’d missed it in the sooty grime of London.

She loved the hustle and bustle of the city, and the freedom from her grandmother’s watchful eye. But sometimes the narrow streets and dirty buildings seemed to close in on her. Then she longed to be back here, where the sky was so vast above them, like a great cloudless blue canopy, with fields and trees stretching as far as she could see.

From the top of the ridge, she had a wonderful view down over Billinghurst. It sat square and solid, straight out of an Arthurian fantasy with its crenellations and mullioned windows, its thick stone walls burnished golden by the wintry sunshine.

Her father sent her a sidelong glance as they sat side by side, looking down on the magnificent house. ‘Do you miss it?’ he asked.

‘Very much,’ Millie admitted with a sigh.

‘You don’t have to go back, you know.’

Just for a moment, she was desperately tempted. It would be so easy to sink back into her old life. No more rising at dawn to queue up in freezing bathrooms, no more being shouted at or coming home to find Sister Sutton had upended her bed again.

But no hope of having any life of her own either.

‘Do you want me to come home?’ she asked.

‘Only if that’s what you really want.’

‘I don’t have much choice, do I? Grandmother is right, I have to marry for the sake of Billinghurst.’

‘You always have a choice, Amelia.’ Her father was silent for a moment, gazing out over the estate. ‘I admit, I would like to think of you here one day with a husband and a happy family of your own. But at the end of the day it’s just a house. Bricks and mortar are not what’s important in life. What’s truly important is having someone to love and grow old with.’

She looked across at his strong, handsome profile and knew he was thinking about her mother. Even after nearly twenty years, his sadness still lay heavy on him.

Her mother, Charlotte, Countess of Rettingham, had died of fever two days after Millie was born. It had broken her father’s heart and even now he found it difficult to talk about her. Millie had found out nearly all she knew of her mother from talking to her grandmother and the servants. According to them, Charlotte Rettingham was beautiful and graceful, a gifted artist and musician. So far as she could tell, Millie’s only resemblance to her mother was her curly blonde hair and blue eyes.

Despite being alone for so many years, her father had never considered remarrying. But that didn’t stop him being the target for many ambitious women. Millie wasn’t surprised. As