A Vow For An Heiress. Helen Dickson

in the dip of a valley, the sprawling ancestral home of the Earl of Ashurst. They passed the gilded, tall wrought-iron gates which carried the Earl’s crest. The house could not be seen from the road, but on her rides she had looked down on it from the surrounding wooded hills.

      Soon Fountains Lodge, a fine seventeenth-century manor house, came into view. Set back from the village of Ashurst, it was a spacious house, east of which were outbuildings and stables arranged around a sizeable courtyard. The Ingram family had built it and remained in possession since. Apart from Amelia Ingram’s maid and housekeeper, who had their own rooms, the staff needed to run the house lived in the village.

      On reaching Fountains Lodge, Rosa strode into the hall with a winning smile for the hovering servants while removing her bonnet and shaking out her bright chestnut mop of curls, which rioted in a wild explosion about her head.

      ‘Hello, Grandmother,’ she said when the elderly lady entered the hall, her cane tapping the tiles as she walked stiffly forward to welcome her granddaughter. Elegant with a regal bearing, at seventy-five she was a small fragile woman. Arthritis and the years had worn away the muscles of her youth, leaving behind a shell of a woman. Her aloof, unshakeable confidence and bearing came from living a thoroughly privileged life. Being a small frail lady, it was difficult to believe she could be so formidably assertive.

      ‘You’re here at last and about time, too.’

      ‘It’s good to be here. How are you, Grandmother?’

      ‘Better now I am home.’

      Amelia cast her eye over her younger granddaughter, knowing she would have her work cut out if she was to see her married in the near future. Rosa’s manners were unrefined and, unlike Clarissa, she knew nothing about genteel behaviour. She was a wild child, as wild as could be. She was intelligent and sharp-witted. She remembered her as being a problematical child—a constant headache. She was also proud and wilful and followed her own rules, but Amelia would not concede defeat.

      ‘We expected you some three days ago. I trust Clara was feeling better when you left London?’

      ‘She was much improved and sends her love to you both. But I’m here now and it’s lovely to see you again.’

      Sweetly Rosa kissed her grandmother’s cheek before going to Clarissa, who followed in her grandmother’s wake. There was an almost translucent quality about Clarissa. As sisters they were not unalike, apart from the colour of Clarissa’s eyes, which were blue, and her hair, which was a light shade of brown. But where Clarissa was of a gentle, placid nature, Rosa was more spirited and inclined towards downright rebellion when crossed, with a wilful determination to have her own way. She was two years younger than Clarissa, but she always felt the eldest. As a result, without any parental control, Rosa had a strong sense of responsibility towards her sister. The sisters hugged one another, uttering little cries of welcome and pleasure. At last they drew apart.

      ‘I’ve looked forward to your coming, Rosa. I imagine Aunt Clara was reluctant to let you leave.’

      ‘She was, but she hopes to see us soon when she comes here for your wedding.’ Clarissa’s smile faded, making Rosa wish she had never mentioned it.

      Amelia tapped her cane on the floor. ‘We have much to do if Clarissa is to marry our neighbour, the Earl of Ashurst.’

      ‘I shall do all I can to help with the arrangements. I like to be kept busy.’

      ‘I intend to see that you are—with matters concerning your future role in life. I haven’t forgotten that a husband must be found for you when Clarissa is settled—although I realise how difficult and unyielding is your nature.’

      ‘Father would doubtless have agreed with you. He ever despaired of me—but the same could not be said of Clarissa,’ she said, reaching out and squeezing her sister’s hand affectionately. She was worried about her sister, who seemed to have lost all her usual vitality. ‘In his eyes you could do no wrong. But where I am concerned, Grandmother, I am in no hurry to wed. I am not like my father. I am a realist. I can see things for what they are and I know I will never be accepted into the upper echelons of the aristocratic society my father aspired to. He could never see that.’

      Their father had been known on the island of Antigua as a hard, authoritative man who worked long hours on his plantation and fully expected everyone else to do the same. Unfortunately, the authority he showed in his working life did not produce the same results in his younger daughter, who was known for her lack of discipline and her inclination to defy his direction, which did not apply to his elder daughter, who was a credit to him.

      ‘You are right, Rosa,’ her grandmother remarked, ‘but nevertheless he was your father and you must respect what he wanted for you and Clarissa.’ There was a hoarseness in her voice that told Rosa of her grandmother’s inner grief over the death of her only son. ‘He may be dead, but you have a duty to abide by his wishes,’ she reminded Rosa, as she did every time Rosa broached the matter. ‘It was his wish that you come to England, where you will be taught the finer points of being a lady—and I shall see that you do if I expire in the attempt. And despite what you have just said, a title will open many doors that will otherwise remain closed while ever you remain plain Miss Ingram. God willing, I will see you both suitably settled before I die.’

      Rosa swallowed down the lump in her throat. How difficult life had suddenly become and how difficult the transition had been for her to leave her beloved Antigua and come to England. ‘I will try not to be a disappointment to you, Grandmother. I will try not to let you down.’

      She spoke truthfully, for she really didn’t want to disappoint her grandmother or upset her in any way, but she was determined to have some say over her future.

      Rosa, always intuitive to her sister’s moods, looked at her, her brow creased with concern. Not until they were in Rosa’s bedchamber and Clarissa had closed the door did they have the chance to talk.

      ‘What is to be done, Rosa?’ Clarissa said, thankful that she had her sister to confide in at last.

      ‘I think you speak of this marriage to the Earl of Ashurst. What can be done, Clarissa? Grandmother is adamant that the two of you will wed.’

      ‘But I don’t want to marry him,’ Clarissa cried tearfully. ‘He is a stranger to me.’

      ‘You will soon get to know him.’

      ‘But I don’t want to get to know him—not now. Not ever. I cannot go through with it. I love Andrew. I love him so much it hurts. I have never known such love—such sweetness...’

      Rosa listened as her sister seemed to shine, her eyes brightly lit with adoration as she continued to speak of her love, her passion for Andrew. ‘Then, feeling as you do, you must speak to Grandmother.’

      ‘I’ve tried, but she refuses to listen. I cannot think of a life without Andrew. I cannot live without him,’ she murmured despairingly.

      Rosa sighed. Never had she seen Clarissa in such a state. Alarmed by this, she sat on the bed. Feeling a great need to protect her, she took her hand and drew her down beside her. ‘Listen to me, Clarissa. She cannot force you to marry the Earl. You are twenty-one. You have a perfect right to decide who you will and will not marry. You must make her understand that you are your own mistress now. How does Andrew feel about all this?’

      ‘He loves me as I love him. B-but he will not marry me without Grandmother’s blessing.’

      Rosa did not need convincing. Andrew’s adoration and the gallantry he showed towards Clarissa when they were together were plain for all to see, but because his family were planters in a small way, Grandmother had refused to encourage the relationship and had departed London as soon as a meeting had taken place between the Earl of Ashurst and Clarissa.

      ‘What is he like—the Earl?’

      ‘To be quite honest we were together no more than a few minutes. He had another engagement and his mind seemed to be elsewhere. Oh, he is handsome and quite charming—in fact, I am certain there is not a woman in