“Not the dowager? But of course, dear, although we shall have to take Robin shopping with us. His taste is impeccable.”
So it was that Annabelle found the purchase of her wedding clothes was to be supervised by a gentleman, and even Allan reluctantly agreed to be advised on the purchase of a new coat to honour his bride.
Annabelle had always thought Mr Robin Dalton something of a dandy, but she had to admit that Rosamund was right. His taste was indeed impeccable. On their first visit to the warehouses and shops, every modiste and milliner and glove maker and purveyor of silks divined at a glance that he was a person of sartorial distinction such as Chester had rarely seen before. The finest materials were produced for his inspection, the prices offered were far lower than Annabelle herself had received just one week earlier and it was, apparently, no trouble at all to make up an elegant ensemble in just three days.
“Oh, there is no need to rush so,” she protested, only to be told that it was no trouble at all, and they would be quite to delighted to oblige her.
“Well, that was interesting,” Annabelle said, as they made their way through the crowded streets to an hotel for some refreshments before beginning the journey home. “There is nothing else for it, Robin, but you will have to move to Cheshire and accompany me on every shopping expedition in future. I have never been so well attended to.”
“Did you mention on your previous visits that you were about to marry the Earl of Brackenwood?” Robin said, eyes twinkling.
“I do not believe I did,” Annabelle said.
“And you asked for the bills to be sent to you, I suppose?”
“Naturally. I shall pass them to Allan, of course, but—”
“And you wore one of your oldest and least fashionable gowns, I daresay?”
“Certainly, in these dusty streets. I would not have worn anything so pale today if you had not insisted. I understand you, I think. Better service is provided to those of higher rank, so Miss Nobody of Nowhere-in-Particular is left to wait, like that poor widow in the milliner’s shop, who was quite neglected while three ladies attended to me. It does not seem entirely equitable, for she was elderly and looked quite tired and out of sorts. It would have been a kindness to attend to her first.”
“She had a chair to rest upon, and I believe she enjoyed watching you order five bonnets at once more than she would enjoy her own purchase of a new ribbon or a couple of feathers. If one has a position in society, one must provide a spectacle for those of humbler rank to amuse themselves at one’s expense.” His eyes twinkled merrily as he spoke. “As for the tradespeople, you forget, sister, how much value they derive from your custom. A gown for Miss Winterton, the governess, is of no interest, but to be able to speak of the future Lady Brackenwood of Charlsby as a customer gives them inestimable pleasure. You must not deprive them of the happiness of serving a countess.”
“I never thought of it in that light,” Annabelle said. “It is not natural in me to put myself forward.”
“It is not, and I believe your future husband is of just such a retiring disposition,” Robin said. “But you will soon be a person of some consequence in this town, and it is as well that the tradesmen recognise it. Ah, there is Lord Brackenwood awaiting us now.”
Allan was standing outside the hotel entrance across the street, his nondescript attire attracting no attention from passers-by. Annabelle guessed that he rather liked such anonymity, as she did herself. His face lit up as he saw them, and Annabelle hurried forward to meet him with so little care that she almost collided with a young lady emerging at a rush from a shop.
“Oh, I do beg your pardon!” they said simultaneously.
Annabelle laughed, but the girl curtsied and lowered her head in embarrassment, and Annabelle recognised her at once. “Why, Miss Lorrimer! How are you?”
The girl looked more closely at Annabelle and blushed scarlet. “Oh! Oh… it is Miss Winterton!”
“Pray allow me to congratulate you, and wish you every joy. Mr Keeling is… the most charming and amiable man.”
Miss Lorrimer blushed even more fiercely, and nodded. “And… and… to you also.”
Annabelle had forgotten just how shy the child was. “Thank you. We have both been most fortunate. But you are not out alone?”
“Oh no… my aunt…”
Annabelle now saw a lady of mature years, rather garishly dressed, standing nearby, smiling and nodding at her, not socially confident enough to ask for the introduction although she clearly wanted it. Her gaze took in Robin and Rosamund, standing a little aside, and there was a certain excitement in her eyes, which Annabelle well understood. Her sister and brother-in-law exuded London style.
“Will you do me the honour of introducing me to your aunt?” Annabelle said.
“Oh… oh yes! Mrs Lorrimer… um, Mrs James Lorrimer. Aunt, this is Miss Winterton. The governess from Charlsby.”
The two curtsied politely and exchanged greetings, but Annabelle could see the lady’s face change. She knew, as perhaps Miss Lorrimer did not, that Charles had been in love with Annabelle. Perhaps she even knew of his most improper offer to her while still betrothed to Miss Lorrimer.
“Not the governess for much longer,” Mrs Lorrimer said unsmilingly. “Congratulations, I’m sure. Who are your friends, Miss Winterton?”
Annabelle turned to Robin with an eyebrow raised in query, but he willingly stepped forward and allowed her to make the introductions. Her voice did not waver, even as she said, “Miss Lorrimer was a guest at Charlsby earlier this year, and is shortly to marry our Brinshire acquaintance Mr Charles Keeling.”
“How delightful!” Robin said, making a sweeping bow that brought even more blushes to Miss Lorrimer’s cheeks, if such a thing were possible. “And how soon is the wedding to be? Are you bound on the same errand as we are today, that of wedding clothes? I have been most favourably impressed with the warehouses here, for the quality is very near as high as one sees in London, and the prices a great deal more moderate, would you not agree? But tell me, Mrs Lorrimer, is there a fan maker you can recommend, for I have not seen one yet which meets the standard one would hope for.”
Mrs Lorrimer instantly launched into an enthusiastic recital of every purveyor of fans in the town, clearly delighted to display her knowledge to a gentleman of such London style. So it was that they did not notice another gentleman approaching, and were quite startled when he burst out, “Annabelle! Good God!”
Mr Keeling! For an instant, Annabelle’s heart lurched in shock. She recovered herself instantly, turning to him with a calm smile on her face. He was the one who seemed jittery, apologising and laughing in equal measure, making a jerky bow before tucking Miss Lorrimer’s hand into his arm.
As the others returned to the interesting topic of wedding clothes, Charles turned to Annabelle and said quietly, “I wish you joy, Annabelle. He is a good man and will make you happy, I am sure.”
She could not help smiling as she thought of Allan. “He will, I know it. And I wish you every happiness, too. She is quite charming.”
“Indeed she is.” But there was a bleakness in his eyes that affected her deeply. Poor Charles! But he had made his choice, and must live with the consequences of that.
And now she was impatient to be with Allan again, and reminded Robin and Rosamund that he was still waiting for them. They made their farewells, and crossed the street to where Allan still stood patiently. He watched Annabelle approach with an anxious look, and they entered and went through to their private parlour without a word being spoken beyond the essentials.
A cold collation was already laid out for them, and they had eaten in silence for several minutes before Allan looked sideways at Annabelle and said, “Is he well? Mr Keeling, that is?”
“He is very well, and Miss Lorrimer also. They are looking forward to their wedding very much. Miss Lorrimer grew quite effusive on the subject, when Robin pressed her. She is to have a barouche for summer use, as well as a closed carriage, and h
er own horse for riding, and their house has something very special in the way of staircases, we must understand.”
“Oh, a staircase. How original,” Allan murmured, smiling at her in a way which warmed her inside.
“Yes, one must approve of a house with a staircase. And a oriel window, apparently. What is an oriel window?”
“One which projects, somehow.”
“Ah. Well, their house has one. Or several, possibly, I am not very clear about that. But it is all very exciting, and Miss Lorrimer’s aunt has been so very kind as to give Robin the directions for a fan maker, three more warehouses and positively the best haberdasher in town, so I believe we shall be obliged to return for more shopping on Monday.”
He laughed, reaching across the table to take her hand with a sigh of satisfaction. “Oh, excellent, for I want my wife to be rigged out in the finest styles.”
“And how about my husband? Is he to be rigged out in the finest styles, too?”
“I am to have a new coat to be married in. Is that not enough for you?”
“For now,” she said. “Next year, perhaps, we might venture to persuade you to a new waistcoat, and the year after perhaps a pair of Hessians.”
He laughed, and she patted his arm playfully. “That is better. You looked so anxious for a while there. But I am quite done with Mr Charles Keeling, so you need not worry about me.”
“Ah, you two are so delightful together,” Rosamund said with a sentimental sigh. “Nothing could be more perfect, and as soon as we return to the house, I shall write to Lucy, Margaret and Fanny to reassure them.”
“Reassure them?” Annabelle said. “About what?”
“Why, they were worried that you might be still in love with Charles, of course, and marrying Lord Brackenwood merely to obtain a comfortable home, but now that I have seen you with both gentlemen, I can tell them that matters are very much otherwise.”
“Oh, yes,” Annabelle said happily. “Very much otherwise.”
“I am very glad about it, for it is much the most prudent outcome,” Rosamund said.
“Oh, very prudent on my side,” Annabelle said. “Every young lady should fall in love with a handsome, wealthy earl if she can possibly manage it. But not at all prudent on Allan’s side. A penniless governess — how shocking!”
“You are Miss Winterton of Woodside,” Allan said with dignity. “You are the daughter of a gentleman, and therefore an excellent match for a poor, lonely earl with no social graces.” And he lifted her hand gently to his lips.
Rosamund laughed. “What a pity Fanny is not here to see such romantic behaviour. She would be quite in raptures.”
“Poor Fanny!” Annabelle said. “Who knows when we shall see her again?”
“What about Christmas?” Robin said, smiling. “Would that suit you?”
Annabelle squeaked with astonishment. “But how? Allan and I talked about it, but he is not minded to travel so far north as Yorkshire before the roads improve in the spring.”
“Would you consider a journey to Brinshire, Brackenwood?” Robin said. “It is my father’s idea. He is not well, and, as often happens when a man is confined to his bed for long spells, he has been fretting rather over Rosamund’s sisters, scattered about the countryside. He regrets that he did not exert himself more in January to help them to stay together. Now he wishes to invite all four of them to Westerlea Park for Christmas. And there is another reason, also. I have finally found a buyer for Woodside, so there are papers to sign and so forth. The new owners hope to be in by Candlemas, so this will be the last opportunity for the Miss Wintertons to see their old home before it is lost to them, should they choose to proceed with the sale.”
Annabelle turned beseeching eyes to Allan.
“You would like to go, I can see that,” he said, “and I am not minded to deny you such a pleasure. I know how close you are to your sisters, as the daily avalanche of letters attests. Let it be so, and we must all hope there is not too much snow, for travelling in winter is foul at the best of times, and unendurable in snow. You may write to your father, Dalton, and tell him that the Earl and Countess of Brackenwood would be delighted to visit him at Westerlea Park at Christmas.”
“Thank you,” Annabelle whispered. His warm answering smile was full of affection.
“And now, if everyone has eaten their fill, let us send for the carriage and go home, for I should like a little walk up to the woods before dinner. Perhaps you would care to accompany me, Miss Winterton? There is a very fine oak tree there where we might rest for a while.”
Annabelle blushed so fiercely that Rosamund said, “Now what in the world is so interesting about an oak tree that sets your cheeks aflame, sister?”
“It is a very fine tree,” Allan said blandly. “A large, well-grown tree with a bench around its trunk.”
Rosamund looked mystified, but Annabelle laughed. “Mistletoe!” she whispered.
“Ah! Then that entirely accounts for it. Enjoy your walk, Lord Brackenwood.”
“I believe I shall,” he said.
“And so shall I,” Annabelle said.
THE END
The next book in the series is The Chaperon, and features the third Winterton sister, chatterbox Lucy.
You can read a sneak preview of chapter 1 after the acknowledgements.
For more information or to buy, go to my website.
Thanks for reading!
If you have enjoyed reading this book, please consider writing a short review on Amazon. You can find out the latest news and sign up for the mailing list at my website.
Book 2 of the series is The Chaperon, featuring Lucy, and you can read a sneak preview of Chapter 1 after the acknowledgements.
Family trees: Hi-res version available here.
A note on historical accuracy: I have endeavoured to stay true to the spirit of Regency times, and have avoided taking too many liberties or imposing modern sensibilities on my characters. The book is not one of historical record, but I’ve tried to make it reasonably accurate. However, I’m not perfect! If you spot a historical error, I’d very much appreciate knowing about it so that I can correct it and learn from it. Thank you!
About the series: When Mr Winterton of Woodside dies, his daughters find themselves penniless and homeless. What can they do? Unless they wish to live on charity, they will have to find genteel employment for themselves. This book is set in England during the Regency period of the early nineteenth century. Book 0 takes place 5 years before books 1-4, and book 5 ten years later.
Book 0: The Betrothed (Rosamund) (a short novel, free to mailing list subscribers)
Book 1: The Governess (Annabelle)
Book 2: The Chaperon (Lucy)
Book 3: The Companion (Margaret)
Book 4: The Seamstress (Fanny)
Book 5: Woodside
Any questions about the series? Email me - I’d love to hear from you!
About the author
I write traditional Regency romances under the pen name Mary Kingswood, and epic fantasy as Pauline M Ross. I live in the beautiful Highlands of Scotland with my husband. I like chocolate, whisky, my Kindle, massed pipe bands, long leisurely lunches, chocolate, going places in my campervan, eating pizza in Italy, summer nights that never get dark, wood fires in winter, chocolate, the view from the study window looking out over the Moray Firth and the Black Isle to the mountains beyond. And chocolate. I dislike driving on motorways, cooking, shopping, hospitals.
Acknowledgements
Thanks go to:
Jane Austen and Georgette Heyer, who jointly inspired me to try my hand at writing a Regency romance.
Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics for the cover design.
My beta readers: Mary Burnett, Barbara Daniels Dena, Amy DeWitt, Quilting Danielle, Keti Vezzu.
Last, but definitely not least, my first reader: Amy Ross.
Sneak preview of The Chaperon Chapter 1: A Journey To Shropshire (January)
‘19th January 18— L
ongmere Priory, Shropshire. My dear Mrs Price, or may I call you Lucy? For I feel sure that we shall be the greatest of friends from the moment we meet. We have heard so much of your amiable and charming nature, and we are all wild to see you, especially my two step-daughters who will be your particular charges. They cannot wait to go back into society again, and I am sure that under your watchful eyes and with your experience in the ways of young girls, they will be perfectly well behaved. I do wish that I could take them about myself, but I am strictly forbidden from exerting myself in any way, and there is no one else who can oblige in this manner. But you, with your experience of social occasions and your relationship to Lord Westerlea, must be of the utmost benefit to my poor dear step-daughters. We are all so grateful to you for rescuing the dear girls from the dreadful prospect of no society but the family. All is prepared for your arrival, so you may travel here whenever it suits your esteemed brother-in-law to bring you to us. Yours, in great anticipation, Augusta Kingsley.’
~~~~~
JANUARY
Lucy waited in the hall, her boxes stacked near the door. She wore her new black pelisse over a new travelling gown, for although she would not normally wear anything fine for travelling, it was important to make a good first impression on her employer. Besides, she would be in Robin’s rather fine carriage, and stopping only at the very best inns, so there was little risk of mud.
The pelisse depressed her. For the full year after her husband’s death she had managed perfectly well with her old black cloak, for she went nowhere and was seen by nobody. Now she was in black again, for her father this time, but she would be venturing into society and even a chaperon must look respectable.
A chaperon. How lowering at the age of two and twenty to be relegated to the benches reserved for dowagers and matrons. It had not seemed so bad here in Brinshire, for everyone knew her well, but in Shropshire she would be pitied, she knew, and how she hated pity. No one need waste their pity on her, for although she was widowed young, she had chosen her husband with her eyes wide open and regretted none of it.
The Governess (Sisters of Woodside Mysteries Book 1) Page 26
