by Darcy Burke
“That sounds nice. West loved his father very much too.” Ivy patted her hand. “I’m glad you told me this. I did wonder that you were maybe rushing into something or that David was maybe not good enough for you.” Now it was her turn to look sheepish. “I’m afraid I was worried you might repeat my mistakes.” She held up her hand. “And don’t tell me if you have with regard to sex. If you and David have already done that, it’s not my place to advise you. I’m just glad you’re getting married soon. And how soon is soon?”
Fanny suspected her cheeks were probably crimson. “He’s going to purchase the license tomorrow. Then I suppose we just pick a day and arrange it with the rector. Thank you. For everything.”
“I’m so glad you’re happy and that you’ll be living nearby.”
Fanny was glad for that too. She just hoped things would go well when David arrived at Huntwell. If they didn’t… Well, she didn’t really want to think about that.
“You look concerned all of a sudden,” Ivy said.
“I’m just thinking about David and hoping his mother and uncle aren’t too upset. He just lost his father last fall. I’d hate for him to lose them too.”
“He’ll do whatever he must for you, Fanny. Just like you’re willing to turn your back on our parents in the name of love—for me and for David. If they’ll accept you and let love conquer the hate, they’ll be happy too.”
Fanny hoped her sister was right.
Despite riding instead of taking his coach, David still arrived at Huntwell after dark. Thankfully the moon was nearly full to illuminate his way.
Arnold, his butler, greeted him at the door. “Good evening, my lord. We weren’t expecting you.” He looked past David toward the drive, where a groom was taking West’s horse to the stable.
“I didn’t send word ahead,” David said. “My apologies. Are my mother and uncle here?”
“Your mother is. Mr. Langley is at the dower house.”
David had expected that, and in truth, preferred to have a conversation with his mother first. He wasn’t entirely sure how to deliver the news of his betrothal to Uncle Walter given how he reacted whenever Aunt Catherine came up.
“Is she in the drawing room by chance?” David asked, knowing that was where she typically spent her evenings following dinner.
“Yes sir. I’ll let Gibbs know you’re here.” Gibbs, his valet, had been a bit put out when David had left him here instead of taking him to Yorkshire.
“Thank you.” David made his way to the drawing room at the rear of the house and found his mother sitting in front of a low fire intent on her embroidery. She was working on a piece in a stand positioned before her. A bright lantern burned on the table to her right illuminating her work.
She looked up as he entered. “David, what a surprise.” Her gaze dipped over his travel-worn costume. “Did you just arrive?”
“I did.” He went to the sideboard and poured a glass of port. “Would you care for sherry?”
“A refill would not come amiss.”
He looked over and saw she had an empty glass on the table next to the lantern. He took the bottle and filled the glass, then returned the sherry to the sideboard.
Picking up his port, he sat in a chair angled beside her settee. “I have news to share.”
“Where did you go? You didn’t say, and your staff wouldn’t tell us either.”
He decided to just tell her without preamble. “I was in Yorkshire with Miss Snowden. She has agreed to become my wife.”
The countess had just taken a drink of sherry and began to sputter. David reached to take the glass from her fingers before she inadvertently splashed it on her embroidery.
When she regained her composure, she gaped at him. “After everything I told you, you’re going to marry her anyway?”
He set her glass on a table between his chair and her settee. “I love her. Shouldn’t I marry the woman I love?”
She stared at him a long moment, her lips pursing. “Why do you have to love her?”
He started to relax, feeling as if he were finally making progress. “I don’t think we get to choose whom we fall in love with.” He sipped his port.
“Nonsense. You have a brain, and you have choice. You could have chosen Miss Stoke. You should have chosen Miss Stoke.” On second thought, his mother was being incredibly obstinate.
“Why are you so hell-bent on Miss Stoke?” David tried to keep his voice from rising and failed.
“Because your father wanted you to marry her. And you promised. Your word to him should mean something! He deserves to be respected.” Her voice had risen too, and her cheeks flushed a dark pink.
David took a deep breath. “I don’t want to fight with you about this. I am marrying Fanny, and you can either support our union or live far away from us and stay out of our lives. Which would you prefer?”
She clenched her jaw. “Your uncle will never understand or forgive you for this. Snowden kidnapped his sister and all but killed her. For all we know, he did kill her. We have no idea what happened.”
David worked to keep his ire in check. “If Snowden had killed her, why would he bring her back here to be buried? Wouldn’t he have run far away for fear of imprisonment? The same goes for kidnapping her. If he did that, why bring her back here and face all of you?”
“He was a fool. He didn’t want to be charged with murdering her, so he brought her back and claimed they ran off together because they were in love.”
“That just doesn’t make sense, Mother.”
She glared at him. “It makes perfect sense.”
He set his port down next to her sherry and scrubbed a hand over his face. “I don’t suppose you know what happened to Snowden? His family believes we are responsible for his disappearance.”
“Bah, that’s balderdash. Snowden ran off after he brought Catherine back. Walter says he went to America to escape the magistrate.”
“Uncle Walter talked to you about this?”
She shrugged. “A bit.”
David found that highly curious but supposed they might have discussed it at some point in the last thirty years. “I will speak with him about this.”
“He won’t be happy. You’re betraying your family. You may even find a few of the older retainers haven’t forgotten.”
On the ride from Stour’s Edge, David had wondered if there were still retainers on the estate from that time. He was suddenly itching to interview whomever he could. If he could put this matter behind them once and for all, it would be best for everyone.
David picked up his glass of port and stood. “Uncle Walter will need to find a way to accept it—as will you. And you won’t breathe a word about the Duchess of Clare—Fanny told me of your outrageous threats. I’m ashamed of you, Mother, and I won’t hesitate to cut you off without a farthing if you disclose secrets that are best left buried. I won’t allow you to hurt my wife or her family.” He took a healthy drink of the port and set the glass back on the sideboard on his way out.
He immediately went in search of Arnold and found him downstairs, speaking with the housekeeper. Arnold was in his forties and had come to Huntwell as a footman about fifteen years ago.
David looked toward Mrs. Reid. “Pardon me for interrupting, Arnold, may I have a word?”
“Of course, my lord.” Arnold inclined his head.
“May we go to your office?” David asked.
“Certainly.” Arnold indicated for David to precede him to the office. “How can I help?” He closed the door and faced David.
“I’d like to know which retainers were employed at Huntwell thirty years ago.”
“I’ve a ledger.” He went to his desk and opened a drawer from which he removed a bound volume. “This goes back some fifty years.” He handed it to David.
Taking the book, David sat down in a chair situated at a small table in the corner. He opened the ledger on the table and scanned for entries in the 1780s.
“I seem to recall that a couple o
f the grooms were here at that time, including Scully,” Arnold said.
That was the head groom. David’s eyes landed on the man’s name. He’d started here as a groom in 1790. Two entries before that was George Snowden, who’d also been hired as a groom in 1789. “Excellent, thank you.” David located a third groom who’d started two years later.
Going back a bit further, David recognized another name. He looked up at Arnold. “I didn’t realize Mrs. Johnson had been here that long. Why isn’t she the head cook?”
“She’s never wanted to be,” Arnold said. “She’s quite content to be the primary assistant.”
Nodding, David went back to the ledger but didn’t recognize anyone else. Ah well, this gave him three people to interview at least. He closed the book and handed it back to Arnold. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure. May I ask what this is about and if I can be of further assistance?”
“I’m investigating something that happened about thirty years ago. I’d like to speak with those three retainers as soon as possible.”
“Is this concerning Lady Catherine?”
Apparently, Arnold had heard of the tragedy. “You’re aware of what happened?”
“I’ve heard recollections from the retainers who were here at the time, some of whom are no longer in your employ.” His face creased briefly with concern, a rare display of emotion from the typically stoic man. “It affected many people, particularly because it involved one of us.” He glanced away.
“Do you have any sense as to what sort of man Snowden was?” David realized he was asking for rumor, but wanted to know what the staff had said about him.
“He was supposedly a friendly sort—always quick with a joke. People liked working with him. They were shocked when he disappeared with her ladyship.”
“They may have been in love.” David realized he was starting to share Fanny and Ivy’s hope—that his aunt and the footman had been in love. “Did anyone mention that?”
Arnold shook his head. “Not that I heard.”
Disappointment curdled in David’s chest. “Thank you, Arnold. I’ll just go speak with Mrs. Johnson.”
He left the butler’s office and made his way to the kitchen. As soon as he entered, he heard a gasp. When he turned his head, his gaze fell on a young scullery maid who was sweeping the floor. Her eyes were wide at seeing him, and it took her a moment to duck into a curtsey. “Beggin’ yer pardon, my lord.”
David gave her a warm smile. “Don’t concern yourself, please. I’m in search of Mrs. Johnson. Can you point me to her location?”
“She’s in the larder.” The maid tossed a glance toward the opposite corner of the kitchen.
“Thank you.” David inclined his head, then crossed the room to the larder.
Mrs. Johnson, a round-faced—and round-middled—woman turned from the shelves. She wiped her hands on her apron. “Good evening, Your Lordship.” She eyed him with a bit of apprehension.
David sought to put her at ease. “Good evening, Mrs. Johnson. I’m sorry to disturb you. I wanted to ask you a few questions about my Aunt Catherine and the footman called Snowden.”
The woman’s eyes widened briefly. Her answer was slow and measured. “That was a long time ago.”
“Yes, but I’m hoping you’ll recall some details. As you can imagine, that event caused a great deal of distress for my family—and for the Snowdens. As it happens, I am to marry a Snowden in a few weeks.”
“Indeed? Well, that is happy news.”
“It doesn’t bother you that I am marrying someone from that family?”
She looked mildly horrified. “I wouldn’t presume to judge.”
“What I mean to ask is, do you harbor any ill will? Because of what happened?”
“I try to keep my nose out of the family’s business.”
He understood that. “Of course, but I would greatly appreciate your help in determining what actually happened. My family believes Snowden kidnapped my aunt. However, the Snowdens are certain the two were in love. Do you by chance know which was true?”
She exhaled and looked at the flickering candle she’d set on the shelf to her right. “I don’t.” She didn’t meet his gaze, and he wondered if she was telling the truth.
“Did you know Snowden? I’d like to have an idea of what sort of man he was. Arnold heard he was well liked.”
She shot him an uneasy glance. “He was, my lord. But I didn’t know him well. I was a young scullery maid back then. I just focused on my work, like I do now.”
“Mrs. Johnson, I am quite happy with your work, so you need have no worry that anything you say will affect your employment. If you can think of anything that might help me understand what happened with my aunt and Snowden, I’d be much appreciative. I want my new countess to feel welcome here.”
“Oh, she will be.” Mrs. Johnson looked at him now, and her gaze was fierce. “Snowden was a good man—to all of us anyway. To think that his relative will now be lady of the house would make him happy, I think.”
“Do you have any idea where he is?” David asked softly.
She looked down and shook her head sadly. When she lifted her gaze to his, he knew she was being honest. “I do not. But I hope that he’s happy. It’s so sad what happened to Lady Catherine.” Her voice had grown small.
Though she hadn’t said so, David was certain the woman had liked Snowden and believed that he and Aunt Catherine had wanted to be together—or that at least he hadn’t kidnapped her. Why would she want a kidnapper to be happy?
“Thank you, Mrs. Johnson. I do appreciate your honesty and recollection. If you think of anything else about that time, I’d love to hear it.”
She nodded. “Congratulations to you and your bride, my lord. We’ll cook up quite a celebratory feast.”
He smiled. “We shall look forward to it.”
He turned and left the larder and made his way through the kitchen on his way back upstairs. Though he was tempted to go to the stables and speak with Scully and the other groom, he was bone tired after the day’s travel. Tomorrow would come soon enough.
After he interviewed the others, he’d have to talk to Uncle Walter. David only hoped his uncle could understand. And forgive.
Chapter 15
After sleeping rather late, Fanny was eager to see David. Unfortunately, he was fifteen miles away at Huntwell. Unless he was in Clare purchasing their marriage license. Surely he would come visit.
Certain this was the case, she went downstairs to wait for him in West’s library where she would peruse her favorite book about birds in anticipation of sharing it with him.
Before she could get to the library, however, the butler intercepted her. “Miss Snowden, a note arrived for you.” He handed her the folded parchment.
Fanny opened it and quickly read the contents.
My dearest,
If you can get away to meet me alone, I will be at the hunting lodge all day. I hope to see you.
Yours,
David
Smiling, she held the paper to her chest. This was even better than coming here. He’d told her about the lodge as they’d traveled from Yorkshire. It sat on three hundred acres that adjoined Stour’s Edge and was approximately two miles northwest of the house.
She’d ride out immediately. Dashing upstairs, she changed into her riding habit and informed Barker where she was going.
“You’re going to take a groom, I hope.” Barker gave her a pointed look, then rolled her eyes. “Never mind. I daresay you won’t want a groom hovering about. Do be careful.”
Fanny suppressed a smile. “I will. Thank you, Barker.”
“Yes, well, don’t tell anyone that I’ve utterly failed as a chaperone.”
Fanny hurried to the stables, where a groom readied the mount West had given her last summer. She’d spent a great deal of time learning to ride more proficiently and getting to know the sweet mare.
After declining the offer of a groom—she said she was only going f
or a short ride around the house—she set out for the hunting lodge. She realized this was perhaps the only time they could meet like this. She couldn’t keep riding off alone for a few hours at a time. She and David would have to devise some other plan. Perhaps he could come stay at Stour’s Edge for a few days at a time. She missed him so.
When the hunting lodge came into sight, she rode a bit faster. His horse grazed in front of the small, two-story timber structure. It had a steeply pitched roof and a single chimney.
She dismounted and set her horse to graze with his. Surprised that he hadn’t come out to meet her, she went to the door. Should she knock? Should she just walk in?
He was expecting her…
She unlatched the door and pushed it open. The ground floor was a large, rectangular room with a fireplace in the back left corner. A cozy seating area was arranged around a small blaze of a fire. To her right was a dining table, and a staircase marched up the far left wall.
But the room was empty.
“David?” she called. There was a doorway to the left of the center on the back wall. Perhaps David was in there. Or, maybe he was upstairs, where there was likely a bedroom.
Excitement stirred in her belly when she thought of him lying in wait for her in bed…
She moved toward the stairs, only to stop at the sound of an unfamiliar voice.
“Good afternoon, Miss Snowden! I’m so glad you’ve arrived.”
She slowly turned as her excitement changed to apprehension. The man looked familiar. Had she seen him with David in London? He certainly resembled David.
“I’m Mr. Langley,” he said, smiling warmly. “David’s uncle. I’m pleased to finally make your acquaintance. I sent the note for you to come here—I wanted it to be a surprise.”
What the devil was going on? “So David isn’t here?” she asked, not bothering to keep the disappointment from her voice.
“Oh no. He’s at Huntwell. This is my lodge, where I like to paint. I thought I would paint your portrait for a wedding gift for my nephew.”
Fanny relaxed. “What a lovely idea. How long will that take? I came without a groom, so if I don’t return relatively soon, I’ll be missed.”
