Wyndcross (The Families 0f Dorset Book 1)

by Martha Keyes

  As the door closed, Kate let out a breath she hadn’t realized she had been holding. Lady Crofte was an enigma to her—and an intimidating one. She couldn’t help but feel on edge in the woman’s presence.

  15

  By Thursday, Kate’s ankle was feeling much less swollen and tender, and she was able to bear enough weight on it that she could limp without assistance for short periods of time.

  Ever since informing Kate of the Weymouth scheme, Clara had been worrying aloud about the weather multiple times a day. Driving Lord Ashworth’s high-perch phaeton in the rain would be quite out of the question, requiring them all to make the trek in a closed carriage, if they made it at all.

  To Clara’s pleasure, the day dawned with only a few wispy clouds in the sky. All signs pointed to an enjoyable day ahead. Kate, who knew Clara to be lukewarm about horses, saw in her excitement the anticipation of proximity with Lord Ashworth rather than any particular desire to learn how to drive a phaeton.

  Kate’s mind had been, against her will, somewhat preoccupied with the information she had received from Lady Crofte the day before. Her spirits were low, a state she was unaccustomed to, and various unwelcome emotions and thoughts strayed into her consciousness throughout the afternoon and evening before the planned trip into Weymouth.

  It seemed that, despite her efforts, she had not managed to make herself immune to feelings of a romantic turn for Lord Ashworth.

  She could reason with herself, repeating reminders that the heir to an earldom would naturally look to marry someone nearer his own social standing than the stepdaughter of a tradesman; she could convince herself, far more easily than she liked, that his behavior toward her was simply friendly; she could point out that she barely knew Lord Ashworth and had no intention of marrying for love prior to her arrival in Dorset; but none of those arguments and none of the reasoning could explain away how she felt upon hearing that Clara and Lord Ashworth were not only promised to one another but also in love.

  Her stomach had felt sick at first, her chest strangely hollow. There was no logical reason for it, but there was also no denying it. Nor had the feeling left her. Instead it had morphed slowly into a heaviness, hopelessness, and even recklessness.

  She had also felt embarrassment, her cheeks heating up as she thought back on the few interactions she had with Lord Ashworth. Surely it must have been quite obvious to him that she felt more than friendship for him. What must he think of her, making a fool of herself for someone who was in love with another—with her own friend?

  Each time such thoughts and emotions crept back into her mind, she had forced herself to take a deep breath. If she let the thoughts run their course, she could convince herself that she had practically thrown herself at an unwilling and engaged gentleman. She knew in her more sensible moments, though, that this was a gross and silly exaggeration. She would not forego the trip into Weymouth for such a distortion of the truth.

  The thought of facing him on the expedition to Weymouth made her cringe, though. She had tried before to convince herself that she would not allow more time in his presence to affect her. She had failed miserably. She had failed herself, and she had failed Clara, whose interests she had promised to have at heart.

  But perhaps in this instance she truly could avoid Lord Ashworth. They would spend the day in separate vehicles, so her interaction with him would be very limited. It would be simple enough to avoid him almost entirely and to instead focus her attention on her other companions as well as on Weymouth itself. Her ankle would provide a welcome excuse for any unanticipated situation.

  When Lady Anne and Lord Ashworth arrived at Wyndcross Manor in the high-perch phaeton, Clara’s hands were clasped in front of her chest in anticipation. Henry had a slightly mulish look about him and had yet to utter a word to Kate or his sister.

  Kate sat in the landau with feigned composure, knowing that this was one of the moments where interaction with Lord Ashworth was unavoidable. All the same, she attempted to delay the inevitable by pretending to be occupied with rearranging her bonnet.

  Greetings were exchanged, and the sight of Lord Ashworth’s new pair of matched chestnuts successfully pulled Henry out of his sour mood.

  “By Jove, Ash! I’d heard rumors of these sweet-goers of yours, but I’m dashed if they didn’t understate the case.” He scanned both horses from muzzle to tail with obvious approval.

  “Yes, and he has promised to teach me how to drive them,” Clara exclaimed.

  Henry’s head snapped around, the look of approbation replaced by one of abject horror. Clara’s smile only grew, and she nodded as if to confirm that her claim was true.

  Henry looked to Lord Ashworth to refute his sister’s words. Lord Ashworth only chuckled, leading Henry to shake his head vehemently.

  “No, dash it, Ash! You can’t let my chit of a sister drive those beauties. She hasn’t the slightest clue how to handle the reins.”

  Clara’s expostulation was cut off by Lord Ashworth. “Calm yourself, Henry. This isn’t the first time I’ve taught someone how to handle the reins.”

  “Indeed, he taught me,” chimed in Lady Anne. “He is quite a good teacher, you know.”

  “It isn’t his skill I doubt.” Henry shook his head again, slowly this time, but encountering Lord Ashworth’s warning gaze, said, “But I suppose you know your affairs. Don’t say I didn’t warn you, though.” He shook his finger at Lord Ashworth and climbed into the landau.

  Kate, glad that no attention had been paid her yet, noticed Lady Anne looking down from the phaeton with hesitation. It would have been the sensible and chivalrous thing for Henry to have handed Lady Anne down and helped her down from the phaeton and into the other carriage, but he was already making himself comfortable in the landau, oblivious to any claims on his chivalry.

  Kate’s eyes shifted involuntarily to Lord Ashworth. What did he think of his friend’s negligence of his sister? Lord Ashworth’s twinkling eyes caught hers. She suppressed a smile and then reminded herself that he was as good as engaged. Her smile turned perfunctory, and she looked away.

  Lord Ashworth stepped down to assist his sister down from the phaeton and into the landau. As he handed Anne up, he looked at Kate who found something on her gloves demanding her full and urgent attention.

  “Oh dear,” Clara said, drawing back as she took her seat in the phaeton. “I believe one of your servants must have left this—” the corners of her mouth turned down in disgust as she searched for the word “—sack on the seat.” She indicated a dirty rucksack next to her.

  Lord Ashworth hopped deftly up into the phaeton and took the offending object.

  “Ah yes, it must be my groom’s.” He placed it snugly between his feet as Clara looked on with a dubious expression, as if the sack might find its way next to her again.

  Lord Ashworth instructed the landau driver to pull ahead while he gave Clara a few words of instruction. She seemed to require much assistance, particularly in the manner of holding the reins, and as the landau pulled away, Kate’s last image was of Lord Ashworth, his arms entangled with Clara’s as he guided her hands in the correct technique.

  She swallowed and looked away.

  The drive was pleasant for those in the landau, the passengers being shaded almost fully by the half of the roof which was expanded for the ride. Though the landau began in front, the phaeton overtook them after only a few minutes. Kate caught a glimpse of Lord Ashworth grabbing the reins from Clara, a look of alarm on his face as they grazed by the landau with only inches to spare.

  She smiled at the sight. Was Clara truly as inept as Henry had given them all to believe? If so, Lord Ashworth would have plenty of time to regret his decision. With the interaction between Lord Ashworth and Clara in full view, Kate’s humor dissipated quickly.

  Knowing that Lady Anne was of a more reserved disposition and Henry effectively oblivious to social niceties, Kate had worried that the responsibility of maintaining small talk would fall to her. To her s
urprise, though, Lady Anne performed the task, not only preventing any awkward silence but managing to keep Henry quite entertained. It was almost as if Lady Anne had sensed Kate’s mood and left her to her thoughts.

  Then she remembered Lady Crofte’s words about how Lady Purbeck was such a stickler for social forms. Perhaps she was right. Perhaps Lady Anne and Lord Ashworth’s behavior was simply instinctive and Kate had been reading too much into it.

  As they approached the town, the traffic became heavier, and the dust from the phaeton kicked up in clouds ahead of the landau. Clara surrendered the reins to Lord Ashworth who looked relieved to be back in control.

  Weymouth was almost unrecognizable from the town Kate remembered visiting as a child. The frequent visits of George III had resulted in a significant rise in visitors, shops, and buildings. Seagulls flew along the street facing the bay, sounding the familiar cackle she remembered from childhood. Though the street itself was barely recognizable to her, the coastline in the distance was the same as it had always been, chalky cliffs topped with green grass, dropping into a blue abyss.

  The landau continued following the phaeton along the seafront, and Lady Anne identified points of interest which hadn’t existed at the time of Kate’s last visit. She regaled Kate with tales of all the famous people who had begun to frequent the town as a result of King George’s visits. Henry had his own stories and embellishments to add to Lady Anne’s tales, and the three of them passed a very agreeable morning riding in the town.

  Kate found her stomach aching from laughter. She felt that she might well pass the entire expedition without any interaction with Lord Ashworth, and only the slightest pang of disappointment marred the relief she felt in that knowledge.

  The sudden stop of the carriage brought her laughter to a halt.

  Henry descended from the landau, informing Lady Anne and Kate that he had some business to attend to on his mother’s behalf before they returned home.

  “Won’t take above five minutes,” he said.

  The phaeton had stopped as well, and Lord Ashworth assisted Clara down to join Henry in the commissions they needed to fulfill.

  At Henry’s assurance of a quick errand, Lord Ashworth hopped back up into the phaeton.

  “Ha!” he scoffed. “If they are back in a minute under twenty, I shall pull the landau home myself. Forgive me, Miss Matcham and Anne, but I have no intention of keeping my horses standing for twenty minutes.”

  He winked at them, and the phaeton moved forward.

  Lady Anne and Kate sat patiently in the landau, Kate massaging her ankle gently. Harper, the Croftes’ coachman, expressed his intention to follow Lord Ashworth’s example if the ladies were agreeable. The landau lurched forward, and Kate clenched her jaw at the abrupt movement.

  “It would seem,” said Kate, “that Harper sets as little store by Henry’s claim as your brother does. But I don’t mind the chance to see more of the town if he is intent on keeping the horses moving.”

  The phaeton was still visible up ahead, but it soon turned onto a side street, leaving their view. In a matter of two minutes, the landau turned onto the same street, and Kate was surprised to see the high-perch phaeton sitting stationary up ahead on the side of the road.

  A scruffy man stood at the horses’ heads, holding the reins as Lord Ashworth pulled something from the sack which had so disgusted Clara. He threw what appeared to be a large cloak across his shoulders, took off his top hat, and placed a tricorne in its stead.

  He hopped down from the phaeton, crossed the street, and entered an inn. It was not the sort of establishment Kate would have expected to see a gentleman frequenting, and she turned her head to see if Lady Anne had noticed her brother’s queer behavior and destination.

  Lady Anne, though, had her head down and was searching in her reticule for her handkerchief.

  The door to the inn opened again, and two men walked out. Their feet shuffled, and they walked with a hint of instability, evidence of the drink they had consumed. Both were attired in dark clothing spattered generously with dirt. The edges of their faces were streaked with a dark substance, as if they had made only a half-hearted attempt to wipe it away.

  Kate couldn’t think what Lord Ashworth might have in common with such persons which would lead them to frequent the same inn.

  As the landau approached the inn, it became clear that the two men intended to cross the street, despite the equipage bearing down on them. Whether Harper was unaware of them or simply confident that they would move, he seemed resolved on pursuing his course. Kate was sure that the men would take notice and move, but they did not.

  “Stop!” she cried, and both the landau and the two men came to an abrupt halt. Lady Anne’s head shot up. She stared, brows drawn together, as Harper made proper, though somewhat begrudging, apologies to the men. The two of them shouted slurred threats before continuing across the street.

  “Good gracious,” Lady Anne said to Kate as the landau resumed its course. “Those two men owe their well-being to you, though they seem not to be in state fit to recognize it.”

  “Who are they?” asked Kate, unable to contain her curiosity.

  “Free traders,” said Lady Anne in a dispassionate tone as Kate stiffened imperceptibly beside her.

  “Did you not see the blacking on their faces?” Lady Anne dabbed her brow with her handkerchief. “One often sees them frequenting this particular inn the morning after a shipment, though they are more often found at The Crown in Osmington Mills.”

  “How ironic,” said Kate, turning back to look at the inn.

  “What is?”

  “Smugglers choosing to patronize an inn called The Crown.”

  Lady Anne’s brow wrinkled.

  “Ironic,” Kate explained, “because their livelihood is dependent upon defrauding the king and crown.”

  Lady Anne chuckled. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I suppose it has been that way for as long as I can remember so that it never occurred to me.”

  Kate’s nose and brow wrinkled. “Do they not fear being caught?”

  Lady Anne tilted her head, not understanding.

  “They don’t seem overly concerned about being arrested despite their attire and despite the marks they wear being such obvious indications that they are smugglers.”

  Lady Anne shook her head. “Not here. Free-trading is largely accepted. And even among those who dislike it, no one is fool enough to go up against Emmerson and his people. They have ears and eyes in places you would least expect, and they can be quite ruthless to any tale-bearers. Even the excisemen hold Emmerson in awe. I believe many of them turn a blind eye to his affairs.”

  Kate’s throat constricted. “Emmerson?” Her voice came out hoarse. She cleared her throat.

  “Yes, Charles Emmerson. He is the man whom everyone believes to be behind the rise of smuggling in Dorset. He and his family.”

  Kate stared ahead with blank eyes. “I am familiar with him,” she said in a colorless voice.

  Though no one had ever been convicted for the shooting of her father, the man responsible had been arrested—the young Charles Emmerson.

  Witnesses had been brought to testify against him, but once the trial began, not a single one remained willing to testify. Each one had been intimidated by Emmerson’s cronies, and Emmerson had been released due to a lack of sufficient evidence.

  For years, Kate had reflected on the person Charles Emmerson, and for a long time, she had felt great hatred toward him, a stranger. He had not only altered the course of her life, he had taken away her greatest friend. As a young girl, she had wished Emmerson harm, but as the years passed, those fiery emotions had given way to a simpler pain, dull and deep-seated.

  Her great dislike of free trade was a natural product of her father’s death, but never had she imagined that the very person responsible would not only be roaming free but also directing the entire trade along the coast.

  She thought of Jasper Clarkson, his wife, and his baby,
and she felt sick. In general, she was a proponent of giving people the benefit of the doubt, but she found it hard to understand why Lord Ashworth would be frequenting the well-known haunt of smugglers—in secret and partially disguised, no less. If there was a reason for it, she couldn’t think what it might be.

  But everyone in the county was apparently either apathetic toward or hand-in-glove with the free traders. Perhaps Lady Anne wouldn’t bat an eye to know of her brother’s behavior.

  “Is something wrong, Kate?” Lady Anne asked. “You don’t look well. Is it your ankle?”

  Kate forced a smile. “Forgive me, I’m not feeling quite myself. Perhaps it is my injury.”

  Lady Anne looked at her with concern and then shook her head, brow furrowed. “I should have listened to William.”

  Kate, who had been dazedly gazing ahead of the landau, turned her head. “What do you mean?”

  “He was insistent that you shouldn’t come, but Clara and I overruled him. Very selfishly, I’m afraid.”

  Hearing that Lord Ashworth had wished for her absence on the expedition could hardly have been expected to assuage the emotions Kate was experiencing, but she was spared the necessity of a response due to the sight of Henry and Clara up ahead. Both stood with various packages and boxes and were engaged in conversation with two gentlemen Lady Anne identified to Kate. Henry stood with Mr. Robert Chapman, Clara with Mr. Patrick Bradbury.

  Before the landau stopped, Mr. Bradbury relieved Clara of her burden. He was rewarded for his troubles by as warm a regard as Kate had ever seen. Her eyebrows went up at the sight.

  “There you are, Harper,” yelled Henry with a touch of annoyance. “Been waiting an eon for you.”

  “Don’t believe him, Harper,” said Mr. Chapman, pretending familiarity with the coachman. “He hasn’t been out here but two minutes.”

  Harper began to make his apologies to his master.