The Widow's Christmas Surprise

by Jenna Jaxon

  “You are a model of frugality, my dear.” Sipping the fragrant tea, Jane nodded, and Maria relaxed back a trifle. “You have been putting that purchase off until I believed we would need to steep the leaves three times ourselves.”

  “I simply feel that as I’ve been left in charge of the estates, it is my duty to Alan’s family name to keep the Kersey legacy in the best manner I can.” It was her daughter’s legacy as well, even though once the heir took possession of the title little Jane might not get a farthing of help out of him.

  “You are conscientious to a fault, Maria.” Jane set her cup down, her face betraying a tinge of surprise. “You have come far since this time last year.”

  “Being widowed twice in almost as many years may have had something to do with that.” She couldn’t help the forlorn tone in her voice. It had only been three years ago that she and William had been running and laughing through the falling leaves on his father’s estate in Oxfordshire, without a care in the world save to make sure they came home in time for supper. If only she could get back to those carefree days, with a man she loved and who loved her by her side. If she and William could have waited, could have grown old together, with children of their own, she never would have made the horrible mistake of marrying Lord Kersey.

  “You needed to grow up very quickly, my dear,” Jane said, patting her hand. “I am sorry for that, I truly am. You should have been allowed to stay in the schoolroom longer, should have had your come-out, rather than be consigned to crepe at the age of sixteen.”

  “At least that indignity is over now as well. I would never have dreamed I would be wearing these clothes again.” Maria smoothed out her half-mourning gown of gray silk. “I am surprised Mama hadn’t already sent them to the church for an overseas mission. When I realized I was about to need them again, I wrote and asked her for them. They arrived two days ago. Just in time.”

  “Well, they still fit marvelously well to judge by this one.” Jane smiled and added more tea to her cup. “Not every woman keeps her figure after having a child.”

  “What will that matter?” Leaning back in her chair, Maria poked out her bottom lip. “Even when I can put aside this half mourning, I still won’t be able to go back into Society unless . . .” She looked up hopefully. “Have you heard from your friends in London?” If the gossip had died down there was a chance she might be received by the ton once more. “Has the scandal of Alan’s death been forgotten?”

  Slowly, Jane sipped her tea, avoiding Maria’s gaze. “When I last heard from my sister-in-law, she did mention that talk had begun to die down, however—”

  “It has?” A thrill of excitement shot through her. Over the past months she’d brooded over what was to become of her if she were asked to leave Kersey Hall. Unless she wanted to move back to her parents’ home—a prospect that filled her with despair—the simplest thing she could do would be to marry again. Not that another marriage was what she wanted at all. If Alan had taught her anything it was that men could be the worst deceivers. But in her straitened circumstances, a husband meant security for her and little Jane. If Maria could be accepted in London once more, she could perhaps meet a man with similar needs—a widower, in search of a wife and mother for his children. Not an ideal match, but one she could perhaps come to accept in exchange for the security it offered. The first step, however, was to be allowed back into the beau monde. “What did Lady Theale say?”

  Looking uncomfortable, Jane replaced her teacup in its saucer, then rose and stalked toward the fireplace, where a fire crackled merrily. “I am afraid the length of time it has taken for the solicitor to find the Kersey heir has brought the matter of the duel and its outcome to the attention of the ton once more. On-dits flying around about claim state that there is no heir and that the estates will be forfeited to the Crown.”

  “Dear lord!” Maria’s hand flew to her throat.

  “It is nothing more than rumor, but, of course, with nothing substantial for people to turn their minds to, they will dredge up old scandals and give them a new coat of paint.” Jane scowled, her frown almost reaching her nose. “If the wretched heir could have been found two months ago, all the talk would have been laid to rest once everyone’s attention had focused on the new earl.” She made a snort of disgust, then turned kind eyes on Maria. “Do not worry overmuch, my dear. It will take years before the property is forfeited.”

  Clutching her cup, Maria’s heart sank. The longer it took to find the heir, the longer it would take for talk to die down, which meant she couldn’t show her face in Town and so could not find another husband. Of course, as long as the heir was absent, she could live quietly here at Kersey Hall. At least she hoped she could. Her gaze met Jane’s. “So I could stay here all that time?”

  “That, I’m afraid, is a question for Mr. Clarke.” Jane shook her head. “Such things are far beyond my knowledge. But I assume if your steward can keep this estate running properly, and you require the other properties to give quarterly reports to him, that you can manage them yourself with . . . What is your steward’s name again?”

  “Mr. Granger.” Maria had already come to rely heavily on the handsome young man in the past few months. He managed the day-to-day business of the estate and the outlying tenant farmers with ease, consulting her from time to time when he felt it warranted, but generally doing what he deemed necessary with great efficiency. “Alan said he’s been here for quite some years, and knows his work exceedingly well. I frankly don’t know what I or the estate would have done without him these past months.”

  “Well, thank goodness for that.” Her cousin nodded as she set her cup on the table with such force it clattered into the saucer. “Speak with him about taking over the management of the earldom’s other holdings. He may be doing so already.” She paused. “Do you know how many there are?”

  Maria shrugged. She and Alan had never spoken about business at all. He had been so young there didn’t seem to be any rush for him to explain to her how the earldom operated. That was something he would do with his son one day. By the time the duel was imminent, they spoke only briefly, but she’d been so angry at him they hadn’t talked of anything save his infidelity. “I’m sure Mr. Granger does. Alan seemed to depend on him quite a lot, so I expect he knows all about the other properties as well.”

  “If I were you, I’d seek him out and make sure those properties are also being managed as well as possible. Oh, and I had another thought you can ask him as well.”

  “What is that?”

  “Ask if there is a dower property on the estate.”

  Maria frowned. “What is that?”

  “Last night I remembered Letitia—Lady Theale, that is—talking about her mother-in-law moving to the estate’s dower house when Lord Theale brought Letitia home after their marriage. It’s a smallish manor some estates use to house the previous lord’s widow. She becomes the dowager countess or marchioness, or what ever her title is, so there will be no confusion with the wife of the current lord. With the lord’s permission, the widow can often stay there until her own death.”

  A small ray of light in a pitch-black tunnel. Maria clasped her hands together, pressing them so tightly her nails bit into her flesh. She didn’t want to hope again only to have it dashed, as previous expectations had been. “You think the baby and I would be allowed to stay there?”

  “It is a possibility. If there is indeed a dower house on the property.” Jane rose. “I must write to Lord Kinellan and postpone my journey to Scotland once more.”

  “I am so sorry, Jane.” Maria’s cheeks stung with heat, distracting her from this newest chance at a future. She’d kept Jane with her these many months as a companion and friend and as a result, she’d come to depend on her very much. Jane had time and again put off her trip to see Lord Kinellan, for whom, Maria understood, her cousin had a bit of a tendre. Maria hated to impose on her so, but she would be completely lost without her excellent counsel.

  “It’s no great mat
ter.” Jane’s eyes held a glimmer of sadness before she put on a smile and turned toward the door. “I suspect he will be disappointed, at least I hope he shall be. But my duty is here, at least until things are more settled.”

  Maria jumped to her feet and flung her arms around her cousin. “You are too good to me, Jane. I declare, I do not know what I would do without you.” She leaned back to face her cousin. “Do you think Lord Kinellan will be terribly angry?”

  “If he is, all the better.” Jane tossed her head, a confident smile on her lips. “If the mountain will not come to Muhammad, perhaps Muhammad must come down from Scotland.”

  “Why doesn’t the mountain invite Lord Kinellan to visit?” Maria linked arms with her cousin and they strolled out into the corridor.

  “That could perhaps be done. Although it would be much better if he simply appeared out of the blue as though he couldn’t stand another day without me.” Jane gazed down the staircase, a satisfied smile on her face, as though she could see Lord Kinellan striding up the stairs in search of her. “Yes, that would be quite satisfactory.”

  Tears pricked Maria’s eyes. If only her life could be handled so easily. Determined not to become a perpetual watering pot, she blinked back the incipient downpour and started down the steps.

  “Where are you going?” Jane’s voice held a note of surprise.

  “The weather is so nice I thought I’d sit out in the garden for a short time. The leaves are so pretty swirling about. Soon they will be gone.” As she herself would, most likely.

  “Be sure to put on something warm. You do not want to come down with a cold or a severe chill.” Her cousin put on her best “mothering” expression, looking down her short, upturned nose.

  “I promise.” Maria waved her hand over her shoulder and continued down the steps. Mothering was all well and good, and she’d be sure to wrap up, even though the day looked warm. One never knew when the wind would change.

  That was why Maria needed time to herself, to think things out and form a plan. Relying on Jane all her life was no solution. As she stepped onto the floor, she straightened her shoulders. She must think how to begin yet again.

  * * *

  “Tend to Galahad, please Peter.” Hugh Granger slid down from atop his roan gelding and tossed the reins to the young groom, who bobbed his head and quickly moved off to walk the horse as he cooled down. The ride had been long and the news at the end of it hadn’t been the best. He shouldn’t put off telling Lady Kersey, much as he hated to add to her burdens.

  The lady who’d arrived at Kersey Hall, almost a year ago now, had had Hugh’s sympathy from the moment he’d been introduced to her. Very young she had been then, carefree and seemingly much in love with her husband. Hugh had wished his master and mistress happy, although based on his then only two months’ acquaintance with Lord Kersey, he doubted that the lady would remain so infatuated with the earl.

  From the moment the old earl had died, the new Lord Kersey’s behavior had been less than circumspect. Even while he’d been in mourning for his uncle, Kersey had managed to entertain himself on a regular basis with local women. The man had been generous with his coin, so Hugh had gleaned from the servants downstairs, but he’d had no compunction against taking his pleasure as often as he pleased, with little regard for whether the girl was completely willing or not.

  Heading for the front entrance in search of Chambers to discover Lady Kersey’s whereabouts, Hugh slowed his brisk strides a trifle. His anger always got the better of him if he didn’t pause and reflect. The earl was dead and in his grave these past six months. No further punishment could be levied against him, save that doled out by God in heaven. Or Satan down below. Not that Hugh had any doubts which way the late Lord Kersey had journeyed. Still, he couldn’t help the fury that overcame him whenever he thought about the burdens Lady Kersey had had to bear because of the earl’s perfidy. Not only the shame of discovering her husband’s infidelity, but uncertainty of her future here at Kersey Hall.

  He’d been sure the document he’d signed on that fateful day in April had been a will. God knew Lord Kersey had to have known his chances against Lord Remington were long at best. Why hadn’t the man provided for his wife and child as any gentleman with means would have done? But, apparently, from the gossip in the servants’ hall, Lady Kersey had been left absolutely nothing by her husband. Shaking his head, he knocked on the front door, the funerary hatchment still hanging there, dark and forbidding.

  Chambers opened the door and Hugh strode in. “Can you tell me where Lady Kersey is?”

  “I believe her ladyship is in the rose garden, Mr. Granger.”

  Hugh nodded, then did a quick turn and headed back outside, striding across the gravel drive and onto the grass lawn. The garden was located to the rear and east of the house, a large area filled with roses of all description during the summer months, although now only a few blooms still clung to life there. Still, on such a mild day as this had been, the garden would likely prove an oasis for the countess.

  Rounding the archway that served as entrance to the garden, Hugh glanced about, but the nearest seating area was empty. She might have ventured deeper into the vast landscape, toward the farthest end of the enclosure. The semicircular courtyard there, paved in white Italian marble, with a three-tiered fountain of the same stone, had been a favorite haunt of the previous earl. The tranquility of the place—the quiet splashing of the waters coupled with the occasional birdsong or gentle sighing breeze—had not been lost on Hugh when he had occasion to visit it in search of his master. Given her circumstances, Lady Kersey certainly had need of such a place.

  He topped a slight rise that gave on to a set of steps leading down to the courtyard and spied the lady seated on a bench beside the fountain, exactly where he supposed she might be. But the tableau before him differed from what he’d expected. He stopped on the top step, gazing at the small figure in gray twirling a bright yellow leaf idly in her hand. Something about Lady Kersey had changed.

  The neat, dark hair was piled up on her head, charming as always with the stray, unruly curl that had managed to escape its pins. A paisley shawl draped around her slim shoulders, the long black fringe almost brushing the ground, had slipped open in the front, revealing the pale gray of her gown.

  Gray gown?

  Hugh stopped halfway down the stairs. Lady Kersey had replaced the unrelieved black of full mourning with the dull, but still lighter, colors of half mourning. He’d become so accustomed to seeing her in dark clothing that this change had struck him at first as out of place. Nothing could be further from the truth. The silvery shimmer of the pale cloth gave the lady a vibrancy not present while she’d been garbed in black. A beautiful woman, to be sure.

  She raised her head as if she’d heard his thought, and Hugh sucked in a breath at having been caught staring at her. What on earth had he been thinking? Continuing on down the stairs, he nodded to the countess, trying to be as nonchalant as possible, despite the odd beating of his heart.

  “Good afternoon, my lady. Chambers said I could find you here.”

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Granger.” She laid the golden leaf in her hand carefully on the bench and smiled up at him, her amber-colored eyes wide and bright. “What brings you to find me today?”

  Hugh’s words suddenly stuck in his throat. She looked so innocent sitting there, and rather peaceful. He hated like the devil to be the bearer of more bad tidings for her.

  She cocked her head. “Mr. Granger?” Her petite brows dipped slightly. “Are you quite well?”

  Shaking off his mental misgivings, Hugh nodded and found his tongue. “I am, thank you, my lady. But I have sad news to tell you. I had an urgent summons early this morning to go to the Tates’ house at the farthest boundary of our holdings. Mr. Tate apparently fell through the roof he was patching yesterday and broke his leg rather severely.”

  Lady Kersey flinched, her face twisting in sympathy. “How ghastly. Has the man been tended to?”
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br />   “I sent immediately for Mr. Lambert, the surgeon in Wickford, to attend him. While I waited I walked around to inspect the property, which seemed well, except for the now gaping hole in the roof over the kitchen. I’ve sent several fellows from the home farm out to repair the damage, but Mr. Tate will likely be incapacitated for some months to come.” Hugh swallowed hard, the sight of the farmer’s broken bones poking through his flesh still fresh in his mind. “He may lose the leg, the surgeon said. Or worse.”

  “Dear lord.” Lady Kersey gasped and her face paled. She stared at him, blinking back tears. “What can we do for him and his family, Mr. Granger?”

  “You are very kind, my lady.” That the countess’s first thought had been for the family’s welfare and not for the possible economic burden to the estate itself made Hugh respect the woman even more. Of course women tended to think more on the personal side of things rather than the business. But then, that’s what he was there for. “They are fortunate that the accident occurred after the crops had been gathered in, for there’s nothing much left to do in the fields until spring. They have a small garden and some animals for their personal use, but Mrs. Tate and their older children take care of them. I told her that, once the roof is fixed, if she needed any other such work done about the place, to notify me and I’d make any necessary arrangements.”

  “Very good, Mr. Granger.” The lady smiled warmly at him and Hugh’s heart thudded painfully. “I will prepare a basket with some things for the family if you can have it taken for me?” Her face darkened. “When will the doctor know about Mr. Tate’s fate?”

  “When I left he simply said he would have to wait and see. He’d set the bone and dressed the wound and planned to return to the farm in a week to see how the break was healing. If all was well, and there was no infection, he’d be more optimistic about Mr. Tate’s outcome.”