by Tamara Gill
Interrupting her thoughts, Nat leaned against his desk and cleared his throat.
“Miss Jameson… you do not have to go, if you prefer not to.”
She stammered, “I want to… but my duties… you are getting ready to leave. I am needed here…”
“Nonsense. Mr. Jenkins can see to things whilst you are away. When you come back, should you want to come back, your duties will be waiting. But you do want to go, am I correct?”
He watched the emotion wash over her face as she nodded and tears spilled down her cheeks. Her eyes bored into his.
“I can’t believe I have family…” and she dissolved into sobs.
Instinctively, Nat knelt in front of her and gathered her into his arms. He held her to him, his heart aching and rejoicing for her, even as a knot of remorse settled in his gut. Somehow, he knew that she would not be returning. He knew that, when she left his house and rediscovered her family, he would likely never see her again. The realisation left him shaken.
After several long minutes, Penelope drew away and, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket, she dabbed gently at her face.
“My apologies, Your Grace.”
Still on his knees before her, the Duke found it hard to answer her. His voice cracked, “No need to apologise, my dear. Now, you had best begin planning for your trip. I will see that all of the arrangements are made”
He stood up, took the papers from the solicitor in hand, and passed them to Penelope.
“These all belong to you. I imagine that you will want to familiarise yourself with each letter.” Penelope rose and took the papers. She turned to leave, but the Duke stopped her. “One more thing… You will find in those papers the details of your true status in life. You are not simply Miss Penelope Jameson – you are Penelope Jameson, Baroness of Shelton, grand-daughter of the Earl of Asbury…”
“Baroness!”
Penelope jumped as Lady Abigail entered the room unannounced.
“Who is a Baroness?” Lady Abigail demanded.
Nat sighed and sat back at this desk. He ignored Lady Abigail, focusing instead on Penelope.
“That will be all, Miss Jameson. I will send word up when the travel arrangements have been finalised. Please be sure to discuss this with Jenkins so that he is aware of the shift in duties for the time being.”
Penelope ignored Lady Abigail’s cold stare and nodded at the Duke.
“Yes, Your Grace.”
She turned and left, eager to be alone in her room with her thoughts and the precious papers in her hands. As the door closed behind her, Lady Abigail moved to the chair Penelope had just vacated.
“Now. Who is a Baroness?”
Nat leaned back and stared at his sister. He wondered what trouble she might try to cause if he told her what he knew. He opted against divulging any information. Instead, he changed the subject.
“Is your new husband still in bed, Abi?”
Lady Abigail frowned.
“He had a long night. You don’t happen to know who he lost all his money to last night, do you?’
Nat raised his eyebrows at his sister.
“I do not. Why?”
Lady Abigail wrung her hands in her lap.
“No matter.”
Nat could tell that his sister was troubled, and he suspected her new marriage was already losing its shine.
“What on earth possessed you to marry that man, Abi?”
Lady Abigail stuck her chin out.
“Love, of course.”
Nat coughed.
“Love, you say. I have never seen that man before in my life, and somehow you expect me to believe that you married a stranger out of love?”
Lady Abigail shrugged her shoulders.
“I don’t care what you believe, Nat. It is done. You would not believe how the ladies all spoke of him last night. You would have thought I’d married the king himself! They adore him!”
“Well, if that is what matters, then I suppose I should congratulate you again, sister.”
Lady Abigail twisted her hands in her lap.
“You are so cruel, Nat. Why can’t you just be happy for me? I married of my own free will. Oh,” she paused, “that is what irks you, is it not? I married without your approval or consent. No matchmaking. No meddling.”
Nat sighed deeply, “You know me better than that, Abi. I would have matched you well. I would have matched you with someone I knew could take care of you and who would treat you well…”
“With someone who would have kept me under his thumb to play a part I never intended to play. I never wanted to be a quiet little society wife, Nat. I always wanted adventure and excitement. None of the men you would have matched me with would have been able to offer me that.”
“And what’s his name, Lord James, can do those things for you?”
Abigail blushed under her brother’s scrutiny, but she held his gaze and nodded.
“Oh, yes, Nat.”
Nat nodded and allowed a smile to touch his lips. He did not trust his brother-in-law or his sister’s appraisal of him. However, short of an annulment, which he doubted either of the young couple would be party to, it was too late. He had to accept his sister’s marriage and make the best of it. Though he had every intention of finding out everything he could about the young man.
Chapter Five
Penelope stood on the side of the street and watched as the coachman lifted her small trunk to the back of the carriage. That carriage belonged to the Duke and would take her, and the people hired to accompany her, to the coaching inn, where they would board the stagecoach to the town closest to the Earl’s residence. The Duke stood beside her, in turn watching two trunks of his own being loaded to a second carriage. His carriage would take him to the coast where he was to board a ship and make his way to join Wellesley’s ranks, bearing critical dispatches. They had not spoken since the revelation in his study two days before, and both were filled with doubts and concerns as they faced the divergent paths on which they were about to embark.
“Very well, Your Grace. The house is in order and will await your return. I am prepared to fill in for Miss Jameson until her return as well.” Jenkins nodded at Penelope and then bobbed a short bow to Nat.
“Thank you, Jenkins.” the Duke replied, his eyes on the carriage in front of him.
Jenkins took that as his dismissal, and he quickly disappeared into the house, closing the door firmly. Penelope heard the click of the door behind her, and it sounded like an end to this short chapter in her life. She felt it in the pit of her stomach and wondered what the next few days or weeks would bring for her. Her grandfather had not expressed his intentions regarding the duration of her visit, just that she should make haste. She glanced at the Duke out of the corner of her eye. He stood so still and stoic, like a marble statue. Would she ever see him again? She had every intention of returning, but he was going to war, and who knew? War was final for so many.
Nat felt her gaze on him and he turned with a small smile.
“Miss… I mean, Lady Shelton, I do hope that you will return.” He flashed a grin letting her know that he was speaking for the benefit of the coachman and footman who would be riding with her as they took her and other travelers north of London.
Penelope blushed, “Yes, Your Grace, so do I.”
Nat leaned in and whispered, as he brushed his lips against her cheek. “I hope that, in future, we can be less formal with each other.”
Penelope’s heart began racing wildly, and she gripped her coin purse tightly, willing herself not to swoon from the feel of his breath and lips on her face.
He stood back and took her gloved hands in his.
“I wonder if it would be totally out of place…”
He paused.
Penelope leaned in, “Yes?”
Nat smiled warmly at her.
“I wonder if it would be acceptable to you if I wrote to you on occasion, and if you would write to me. I would like to know how this visit goes. And
if you return to London, how the house fares.”
Penelope smiled.
“Of course. I would be honoured.”
Nat beamed at Penelope and then moved toward her carriage. He opened the door and extended his hand to help her up. She took his hand and climbed into the carriage, where Mrs. Thompson and the footman already waited, immediately taking her seat. Her hand still in the Duke’s, she raised her eyes to his. There was a sparkle and a sadness competing in his eyes that caused her to wonder. She looked at her hand in his, and she could not hold back her smile. That simple gesture, one so taken for granted, an act of kindness, and it felt like so much more, and so natural.
Nat smiled and pressed his lips to her hand.
“Safe travels, my Lady.”
Penelope smiled and nodded, “And to you as well, Your Grace.”
Nat released her hand and closed the door firmly. Suddenly, he was overcome by emotions that he did not understand, so he moved swiftly away from her carriage and climbed into his own. He heard the clatter as the other carriage moved away from the house, and then he felt his carriage begin to move in the other direction. He closed his eyes and envisioned Penelope as he had just seen her. No one would imagine the life she had led so far. No one would guess that she was his housekeeper, and now a Baroness in her own right, and a potential heiress. No one would have looked at her in the fashionable attire of the day and seen the same water-logged waif he had picked up on the moor so recently. As visions of her floated in front of his eyes, he fell asleep.
Chapter Six
Penelope stifled another yawn.
She had spent the time so far turning her situation over and over in her mind. That her father had been the second son of a Baron when he married her mother, and an artist by trade, had been surprise enough, but then to learn that, not a month before his own death, his older brother had died, leaving him Baron, had added to her shock. But the most startling thing of all was the fact that the Barony of Shelton was an old title, and one of the few which could pass to a daughter, in the absence of a living son. Which made her a Baroness in her own right. The papers which the Duke had handed her had explained it all, and also noted that there would be, after she had been formally confirmed in the title, some property, and funds to pass to her. It all seemed completely improbable – yet it was true.
She yawned again, exhausted by the long day traveling.
Mrs. Thompson was already asleep, as the coach rolled along, and the footman was riding on one of the small seats outside at the back, with the guard. The only other passengers were an older gentleman and his son.
The older gentleman continued talking on and on as the carriage traveled along the wide road. She was not even certain what the man was trying to discuss with the young man sitting next to him, but it was obvious that the young man did not care at all. At first, Penelope had worked hard not to make eye contact with either of the gentlemen, but as they were the only other passengers with her, and they were also going to the same town that she was, she had little choice but to acknowledge their existence.
She had grown uncomfortable under their scrutiny when they made their introductions, even though they did not ask her any prying questions. They had introduced themselves as Parson Thomas Jennings and his son, James, who was not much older than Penelope was.
As the father and son delved into a heated discussion at the beginning of their ride, Penelope observed as the younger man eased off the conversation little by little, until he finally fell completely silent and stared out of the window at the passing countryside. Penelope could see the family resemblance in the father and son - both were thin and angular with thick hair and bushy brows. Parson Jennings sat quoting Bible verses and theological debates until he started coughing. At that point, James quickly drew out a flask from his pocket.
“Here, father, have some water.” As his father drank deeply, James chided him, “You get too worked up over these things, you know.”
The older man’s eyes flashed and he opened his mouth to start again. Unable to take any more, Penelope leaned forward.
“Have you both lived in Derbyshire your whole lives?”
The older man clamped his mouth shut and nodded at her.
“Aye. That we have. Several generations in fact. I had hoped for several generations on, but my son has ideas of his own.”
“Father,” cut in James. “Please, let us not bore the Baroness with more of our debating.” He turned his attention to Penelope. “Are you a distant relation of Lord Asbury’s, or a friend visiting him?”
Penelope glanced at her hands and then met the young man’s eyes.
“I am his granddaughter.”
“Well, well. The prodigal daughter returns after all.” Parson Jennings interjected.
Penelope smiled at the Parson.
“My mother passed away, sir. When I was but a child.”
The parson’s smile vanished.
“My condolences. I knew your mother. She was a delightful young lady. When she left, I think the entire area mourned her. Though the rumours that spread from the servants at the house made it perfectly clear that she was not welcome back. Some big to-do about an artist.”
Penelope sat quietly, but when the parson paused, she leaned forward eagerly.
“Did you ever meet that artist?”
The parson raised an eyebrow.
“Why, yes. Just once. He had been commissioned to paint a family portrait. He had been here a great deal of time, if memory serves me correctly, when there was rumour of a scandal at the house.” The parson saw the curiosity in Penelope’s eyes. “But surely you know all of this. Surely, your father told you in the absence of your mother.”
Penelope shook her head.
“I am afraid not. I do not recall my early childhood. I can only very vaguely recall my mother, and I do not recall my father at all, for he died well before my mother did. In fact, until recently, I had no idea of my relationship to the Earl.”
“No idea…” echoed James. “Well, this must be a great bit of good news for you!”
Penelope smiled warmly.
“I hope it is, but if it is not, I have a position in London.”
The parson chuckled.
“A position she says. That will not fly with the Earl. If he accepts you as family, he will have a thing or two to say about how your future turns out. And with a title… how would an employer countenance employing a Baroness?”
James smiled at Penelope and leaned toward her.
“I am sure that you will have nothing to worry about. Lord Asbury is a stubborn man, but he is not an ogre.”
Penelope warmed to the young man and smiled in appreciation of his positive outlook. The three lapsed into silence, punctuated only by Mrs. Thompson’s gentle snores, and Penelope turned her gaze out to watch the passing land. Some of it reminded her of the only home she knew, and she felt a sudden pang deep inside as she thought of Derhamshire, nestled in the rolling hills, imposing in its architecture. That, of course, made her think of the Duke and all of the times that she had passed him in the most innocent of ways as she ran her errands in the small town near Lady Dankerson’s house.
She thought of the great luck it was that she had been found by him, and not someone else, that day she’d run away. She smiled to herself as she thought of how eager he’d seemed to keep her away from Lady Dankerson, as though he wished her a better life even more than she did. She lost herself in her thoughts of the Duke and finally fell into a light slumber as the carriage bounced along.
A touch on her hand woke her abruptly.
James cleared his throat and pulled his hand back from hers.
“I beg your pardon.” Penelope blinked as she tried to gain awareness of her surroundings even as she realised that the carriage had come to a halt. James continued, “We have arrived, Baroness. This is where we leave you. I see that Lord Asbury has sent his finest carriage to take you the rest of the way.”
He had barely finished
his sentence when the carriage door swung outward and the coachman peered in at Penelope, just as she roused Mrs. Thompson.
“This be the place, Missus.”
He held out a hand to assist Penelope out of the carriage.
She took the man’s hand and stepped down to the edge of the road. Just ahead of her was a grand carriage, not any less grand than the ones that the Duke owned. A footman waited for her with the door open, and she moved in his direction, but paused suddenly. She turned back to the Parson and James as they peered out at her. Smiling brightly, she called to them.
“Thank you for your company!”
The men nodded, but took their bags, said nothing, and disappeared from sight, walking down the road, as Penelope took a deep breath and walked to her grandfather’s carriage. The footman helped her, and Mrs. Thompson, in and closed the door behind her. The footman she had brought with her was seeing to the unloading of her trunks. The coachman did not turn or address her, sitting stoically facing forward. She turned in her seat and watched as the footmen unloaded her belongings from one carriage and brought them to the other. Once they were strapped down securely, both men climbed up, and the first carriage moved on ahead of her grandfather’s carriage.
Once it was several paces ahead, the coachman urged his horses into a walk. As he drove along, Penelope took in the area surrounding her. Tall trees dotted the areas near the houses. In the distance, she saw several small towns on the hillsides, and she saw the rooftops of several houses that appeared quite grand. When the carriage turned down a tree-lined lane, she peered out of the window. At the end of the lane, she could see the front of her grandfather’s house, and as the coach entered the courtyard before it, she could not help comparing it to the Duke’s house in Derhamshire.
The Earl’s home was much more modern. It lacked the brooding history of the Duke’s large home. Asbury Hall was large, with three floors of high windows overlooking the courtyard. It was welcoming and more like a home, rather than an imposing estate than she had expected. As the carriage came to a stop, and the footman hopped down to help Penelope out, she saw the double doors of the house suddenly open, and out rushed Lord Asbury.
