Worth the Wait

by Chasity Bowlin

He wasn’t injured at all. As the scent of spilled brandy reached her, she realized with no small amount of ire that he was utterly foxed.

  “Is he hurt?” Rachel called from inside.

  “Not yet,” Augusta replied sharply. “Don’t move from that spot, Rachel. I may be able to use the horses to pull the carriage to a safer spot!”

  Rachel gasped again, but said nothing in protest. She was terrified of horses and riding.

  Moving carefully, Augusta stepped far enough down the embankment to reach the two horse team that had been pulling the carriage. The poor beasts were exhausted as the vehicle had been intended for a four horse team rather than two. Unfortunately, they’d had no other option within their meager budget at their last posting inn.

  Checking the animals over, she discovered that they were unscathed. But as they pawed at the earth, their hooves were tearing at the mud beneath them, creating an utter mess. If she could get them to move forward up the hill a bit, the carriage would be pulled safely away from the edge.

  Patting the agitated animals on the nose, she whispered soothingly. “There, there you poor things. I know… I know. Let’s all get out of here, shall we?”

  The horses whinnied in response. She took it to be accord, but realized that could very well be wishful thinking on her part. While it had been ages since she’d been able to spend any time around such noble beasts, she’d learned long ago that they all had their own character and many of them took great joy in being contrary.

  Retrieving the reins that had slipped from their foxed driver’s hands, Augusta marveled at the fact that he dropped them but managed to hold onto his bottle. She lifted them and began to tug the team forward. Every inch was a battle. The mud sucked at their hooves and at the stubborn wheels of the carriage. They were all mired in it as they trudged ahead, presumably toward safer ground.

  When the carriage itself finally began to lurch forward, Augusta breathed a sigh of relief. They just needed a bit of room between themselves and that rushing stream.

  Her relief was short lived. The carriage lurched again, the broken wheel bumping over a stone and landing with a heavy thud that produced a scream for Rachel.

  That scream, along with the rest of the excitement, proved too much for the horses. They began to prance excitedly. Before she could utter a single soothing word, lightning cracked across the sky, striking a tree not far from them. The horses attempted to rear, and the carriage, ill kept and already coming to pieces, could not withstand the strain. Whatever the apparatus was that connected the horses’ harness to the carriage gave way with a crack and the horses bolted forward.

  Without a second to spare, Augusta dove aside, landing with a splat in the mud as the horses raced past her.

  Sitting there on the sodden ground, both her dignity and her backside bruised and battered, Augusta took stock of her present situation. She’d narrowly escaped death. She was covered from head to toe in mud and heaven only knew what else. They were on their way to a home neither of them had set eyes on based solely on the words of a cousin that Rachel had exchanged a total of six letters with in the last decade by way of an extended house party at an estate so fine she knew they’d be as likely to blend as a sow at Court. It seemed at that point that the only reasonable thing to do was sob.

  Chapter 2

  “They should have arrived by now. You don’t suppose something happened to them, do you?”

  “Who?”

  Hugh said nothing as he watched the interplay between his hosts, the Honorable Simon Atwell and his wife, Daisy. It was truly something to behold. He’d thought he’d become accustomed to it over the years, but apparently only in small doses. As the only guest to arrive for their winter house party so far, he’d been immersed in the strange manner in which their relationship functioned and it left him shaking his head. Though Simon had been a friend for years, and Daisy a friendly acquaintance and dear friend of his late wife, he was regretting his agreement to attend.

  Daisy had paced and worried and wrung her hands for the last three hours. At approximately quarter hour intervals, she’d interjected some vague expression of concern for as yet unnamed guests who were supposed to be arriving at any moment. At each quarter hour interval, Simon would repeat his question like a drunken owl. Who? Who, indeed.

  Had it not been for the fact that Daisy had been such a close friend to Felicity and had come to visit many times after Felicity had grown too weak to travel, he’d have left already. The invitation to her house party had come as something of a surprise, but given the nature of their acquaintance and the loyalty she’d shown to his late wife, it had seemed impossibly rude to refuse.

  “My cousin, darling!” she answered for the fourteenth time with an exasperated sigh. “Rachel and her companion were to arrive by mid-afternoon and it’s nearly dark!”

  “They’re fine,” Simon insisted. “Probably holed up somewhere to get out of this rain.”

  Daisy started to speak, stopped, wrung her hands, and then started again. “Darling,” the word was uttered through clenched teeth, “Cousin Rachel would not have the necessary funds for extra nights at an inn. She’s a widow and has very limited income.” She turned to Hugh then, an apologetic smile on her pretty but annoying lips. “I do apologize for speaking so indelicately, Lord Elwynn, but I’m so very worried.”

  Hugh nodded and offered a smile that was truly more of a grimace as he ground his back teeth together. “Not to worry, madam. I assure you that my sensibilities can survive a reference or two to one’s finances.”

  Her pacing and handwringing resumed. Hugh looked down at his cards, looked at what had been played already and sighed. He didn’t know what was worse. Daisy’s pacing and fretting or Simon’s complete inability to recall the rules of the game. Placing his cards face down on the table, he rose, “I’ll go look for them. Perhaps they are simply waylaid by the weather or by felled trees. This storm has certainly been fierce enough for it.”

  Daisy smiled beatifically. “Oh, Lord Elwynn! How dashing you are! It’s positively heroic… isn’t it, Simon?”

  There was a definite jab in that last part, but it wasn’t his concern. He’d rather be on horseback in a raging thunderstorm chasing down errant houseguests than dealing with the host and hostess of the house party he’d been emotionally blackmailed into attending. Well, not blackmailed per se, but influenced beyond reason by guilt. His younger sister-in-law, Prudence, had been insisting for months that it was time to rejoin society whether he wanted to or not and the invitation to a house party at Seffington Park, along with his sense of indebtedness and obligation to Mrs. Atwell, had left him with few options. Making a mental note to toss Pru from his estate when he returned home and never speak to her again, he exited the drawing room and found the butler.

  “Have someone saddle my horse,” he instructed.

  “Certainly, my lord. Will you need a groom to accompany you?”

  “I think not… but have them saddle an extra mount just in case. A lady’s saddle.”

  Other than a raised eyebrow, there was no response to that. Taking the stairs two at a time, Hugh returned to his room where his valet was still laboring over his wardrobe.

  “My riding clothes, Talbot,” he said stiffly.

  The man cringed. “In this mud and rain, my lord? Are you certain that’s a wise decision? Your safety—.”

  It was the safety of his boots the man was more concerned with. “There are two ladies that were expected to arrive hours ago and they remain unaccounted for. I have volunteered to go look for them. My riding clothes, if you please.”

  “And who are these guests, my lord?” Talbot asked as he retrieved the appropriate garments from the dressing room. “Are they ladies of consequence?”

  “As to their identities, I couldn’t say. As to their consequence, if such a thing matters, it’s unlikely,” Hugh said as the smaller man helped him out of his jacket. “One is Mrs. Atwell’s cousin. I can only pray that their familial similarities do no
t extend to pacing and handwringing because if I see any more of that today I shall begin to engage in the activities myself.”

  Talbot’s curiously manicured eyebrows rose in alarm. “Surely not, my lord. It would hardly be a fittingly masculine expression of distress, would it?”

  Did no one in all of the Atwell’s home, including his own servant, understand sarcasm? “I shall bear that in mind, Talbot.” His reply lacked even a hint of inflection.

  With his riding coat on, Hugh exchanged his slippers for boots. Talbot followed him down the stairs, greatcoat and hat in hand.

  “Your mounts are ready, my lord,” the butler intoned.

  Hugh nodded in acknowledgement, dutifully waited for Talbot to brush imaginary lint from the shoulders of his coat and then headed out the door and into the rain. The man was a nuisance and a menace.

  Outside, he finally released the breath he had not realized he was holding. Regardless of the storm, of the abysmal weather, he was instantly at peace. Being outdoors, being away from the stuffiness of the house and the unbearable expectations of everyone around him, he felt as if he could finally breathe freely, unfettered by the weight of expectation.

  He was nearing the end of the driveway when he realized that he had no notion of which direction the ladies were traveling from. Putting his money on London, he headed east along the road.

  “Why is it so cold? I can’t understand why it’s this abominably cold!”

  It was a rhetorical question, of course. Augusta had grown quite used to Rachel’s rhetorical questions. But under her breath, she muttered, “Because it’s winter. What else would it be?”

  “Why couldn’t we wait with the carriage?” Rachel demanded petulantly. Her normal plucky reserve had wilted along with her perfect curls.

  Augusta continued walking, trudging along the muddy road carrying a valise of what could be salvaged of their belongings. The mud streaked and sodden remnants had been left with the carriage. “Because the carriage, if you can call that broken down hackney such a thing, was a death trap. The entire thing was ready to splinter apart, Rachel. It can’t be that far to the nearest village. You said yourself earlier that we were only miles from your cousin’s home.”

  Rachel looked away guiltily. “That was just an estimation… I certainly couldn’t say how many miles having never been to Seffington Park.”

  The name sounded like cannon fire inside her head. It reverberated and banged endlessly until she felt dizzy from it. “Seffington Park?” Augusta finally managed to wheeze out past the lump in her throat. “Your cousin lives at Seffington Park?”

  “Didn’t I mention that?” Rachel asked with wide eyed innocence that was pure fabrication.

  “No. You did not. You would not have. Had you mentioned it we both know that I would be firmly back in London, living happily in our close-to-but-not-necessarily-in-Cheapside hovel!”

  Seffington Park was the neighboring estate of Wynn House. She would be on an estate that adjoined the lands of the last man in all of Christendom that she ever wanted to see again. Fitzhugh Elliott, Lord Elwynn.

  “I can’t,” Augusta said. “I simply can’t… You don’t know what you’ve done to me, Rachel!” She could hear the panic in her own voice, the shaking and quivering of the notes belying her emotional state.

  Rachel turned to her then. “You wanted to leave London because that is where he was. He’s never at this estate, you said. Why should it matter?”

  It mattered because if things had been different, if her entire life had not been derailed in one horrible, humiliating moment, then she would have been mistress of Wynn House. She was walking directly into her past, into all the painful reminders of what might have been, and every one pricked as sharply as broken glass.

  “Rachel, I can’t do this. I simply can’t. To be next door to the very place where I should— How could you betray me this way?” Augusta demanded. The deceit and the subterfuge, the willful withholding of information that would have swayed her decisions was not something she would easily forgive. She’d been lied to far too many times in her life already.

  Despite their very different personalities, she’d considered Rachel not only to be her dearest friend, but her only friend. Losing one’s fortune and position in society inevitably resulted in a dramatic reduction in the number of one’s friends and acquaintances.

  “It will be all right, Augusta.” Rachel’s assurance was emphatic as she held out her hand. “I promise you that this will be for the best. Please?”

  Augusta stared at the outstretched hand for a moment. She had no choice, really. London had barely been affordable with their combined incomes. If she attempted to live there independently it would only end in disaster. The fate that awaited any woman who did not independently have the means to clothe, shelter and feed herself would strip her of any remaining dignity. The house they’d been offered was significantly more affordable and gave them the opportunity to have a garden of their own, to have chickens and perhaps a milk cow. It was a step out of poverty and regardless of her past, taking that step was the only option.

  “You’re not forgiven quite yet… But it won’t take me long. It never does,” Augusta admitted ruefully. “Tell me true, Rachel. Is there anything else you’ve withheld?”

  “The house we’re leasing is on the grounds of Seffington Park, but it’s on the western side of the estate, nearer to Wynn House than to Seffington, truth be told.”

  Augusta closed her eyes and prayed for strength. It was far worse than she’d thought. Tugging to pull her hand free, Rachel resisted.

  “Let go of me,” Augusta said warningly. “I’ve no notion what diabolical thing has taken root in your mind that you would believe this is—.”

  Rachel pulled Augusta’s clasped hand closer regardless. “You are imprisoned by your past, Augusta. You are my dearest friend and yet every day of your life is spent reliving things that only cause you pain. How can being here physically bring you any more pain than the fact that your mind is permanently entrenched here regardless?”

  “You lied to me.”

  “To make of our lives better,” Rachel insisted. “Both our lives. I could not live in London, anymore… Augusta, I am not a widow.”

  “What?”

  Rachel sighed. “My husband is alive… I left him. I left him because he’s a brutal and vicious man, Augusta. Had I stayed, he would have killed me. And I have reason to believe that he’d discovered that I had moved to London. Being here on the estate at Seffington, I am sheltered from him in a way I would not be elsewhere. Please say you understand… I would have told you everything had I that option. I need to be here for my own safety and you, my friend, need to be here to finally confront all of your demons and lay them to rest!”

  Augusta frowned at the confession. “Why would you not tell me this sooner?”

  “Admit that I have abandoned my husband?” Rachel demanded, her voice rising and her eyes filling with tears. “By law, Augusta, he can beat me if he chooses. He can kill me and naught would ever be done to him because it’s his right! I had to conceal myself from him and those who would see me returned to him regardless of my own will.”

  Augusta sighed heavily and rolled her shoulders to ease some of the tension that had settled there. “Then we shall go to Seffington Park, and we will take refuge in Wynn House itself if need be… For I can not lose the only friend I have.”

  A relieved smile broke over the other woman’s face. “Then come along. The longer we stand here the more we resemble drowned rats!”

  Accepting the encouragement, Augusta stepped forward, moving with Rachel along the road. It would be dark soon and the dangers of being on the road then, two women alone, were too numerous to ignore.

  “I knew you’d never agree if I told you,” Rachel admitted after a few moments. “And it isn’t just that I needed to be far from Arthur’s reach, but I also knew that you needed to be away from London. Far from the city and the painful memories… not just of him,
but of your grandfather and all that happened afterward. That city haunts you, Augusta. I did lie—both by fact and by omission, but that is a lie just the same—and I’d do it again because it was done out of love.”

  Augusta said nothing in response. There was little she could say because she had no doubt of the truth of Rachel’s confession nor of the sentiments that she professed were at the root of her actions. Instead, she linked her arm through her friend’s and said, “When we take up residence in our little cottage, what should we do first, do you think? Get the house in order or the garden? The chicken coop, perhaps?”

  “The chickens. Definitely. Oh, how I long for fresh eggs and the ability to bake lovely cakes again,” Rachel said.

  “I shall be too fat to leave the house!” she answered with a laugh.

  The sound of hoofbeats on the road interrupted their moment of levity. There was no guarantee that the approaching rider would provide assistance. There was also no guarantee that their situation might have worsened dramatically depending on the unknown nature of the stranger.

  “Should we hide?” Rachel asked. “We could conceal ourselves in the woods.”

  “We’re not far enough from the carriage for that to be of any help… If they are a kind hearted soul, they will look for us. If they are not, they may look for us still. And if they are indifferent, it will not matter either way.”

  Even as she said it, Augusta was testing the small garter tied to her forearm beneath the sleeve of her pelisse. The dagger had been her grandfather’s and it was cold against her skin, but for the first time on their journey, she found herself very glad to be in possession of it. Squaring her shoulders, she braced herself for whatever might be coming.

  Chapter 3

  Hugh had been on the road heading towards London for only a few moments when he’d seen the pair of runaway horses, still dragging bits of their broken harness and rigging behind them. He’d managed to catch them before any further damage could be done to the wild eyed beasts. He’d left them tethered near the road, happily munching on grass and staring after him suspiciously.