A Merchant's Daughter

by Arabella Sheen

  “Get in,” she said once again. “And tell your driver to proceed to Merton Manor.”

  Lord Stratton, seeing the danger of the firearm aimed at him, mounted the steps of the carriage and took a seat.

  Just as Emma was about to follow suit and clamber in behind, a barouche drove past and she recognized the man at the reins as being none other than her father’s coachman, Gresham. A fleeting glance of recognition passed between them. But with no time to spare, and reluctant to chase the barouche in order to explain, she climbed without assistance into Lord Stratton’s carriage and slammed the door securely shut.

  Emma hoped her father wouldn’t be too worried by her unexpected absence. But she had other, more important things to deal with that were of greater concern. Namely, getting Windhurst Hall out of the devious clutches of Lord Stratton and returning the rightful ownership to Aaron.

  “You can tell your coachman to drive on,” she said.

  With a forceful knock of his cane on the carriage ceiling, Lord Stratton signaled to the coachman to drive off.

  The coach moved forward at a steady pace.

  Placing his beaver hat on the seat beside him, Lord Stratton removed his gloves and tossed them nonchalantly inside the crown before loosening his tailcoat.

  “You said we have to speak. I’m curious, what can you possibly have to say to me?” he asked. “Are you here to tell me you have changed your mind and you are now wishing to marry me?”

  “No, my lord. Nothing could make me do that.”

  They had reached the outskirts of the city and were heading out into the winding lanes of the open countryside. And as she looked across at Lord Stratton, she felt a sense of revulsion.

  “Then why did you come to see me at my home? And why are you now traveling with me to Merton Manor?”

  “Be patient and all will be revealed.” With the pistol held firmly in her hand, Emma sat back and made herself comfortable as she prepared for what lay ahead.

  And she was prepared to do anything. Anything if it meant Aaron could be happy again.

  Chapter 13

  Aaron walked the short distance to Lansdown Crescent. If he stopped to hail a coach or a sedan chair, it would cost time, and it was time he didn’t have. He had to speak with Emma urgently, and depending on her decision, either cancel the wedding or march her down the aisle, straight to the altar, and tie the knot. He needed her money. He needed the dowry she would provide…and it hurt his pride to ask for it. He felt beholden.

  He would much rather be in a position to say be damned to the wherewithal and simply marry her for herself, without the need for what she could bring to the union. But he couldn’t. Her money was essential to his plans.

  Emma had intelligence, kindness, and compassion, and he would be a fool not to know she would make someone a wonderful wife. It was just so awkward asking her to marry him for the sake of Windhurst Hall. But if she was willing to help, that was all that mattered…for now.

  Arriving at the Brentry’s house, Aaron was shown directly into the library. His gaze drifted to the window and then to the street below. A superb view was to be had that stretched across the city of Bath to the rolling hills beyond, and Aaron could understand why a merchant of means would want to live at Lansdown Crescent.

  The room was spacious, and the décor had a lavish oriental twist to it. Recently influenced by the prince regent, fashion had swayed to blue porcelain and Persian rugs, and the library within the Brentry household had been designed accordingly.

  Mr. Brentry was seated at his desk, and he laid down the journal he’d been reading, and said, “I’m afraid my daughter isn’t home at present. But that’s of no consequence. Take a seat, my boy. It’s good that you’ve called to see us, and Emma’s absence means that you and I have time to speak, alone. I’ve a mind to get to know you a little better. After all, you’re soon to become family. How have things been with you? All set for the big day?”

  Aaron shook his head and walked to the large window.

  “I had hoped to see Emma before speaking with you, sir. It’s a matter of some importance.”

  “And what can be of such importance that you won’t even take a moment to sit with your soon-to-be father-in-law? Be seated and have something to drink. Will you not take a glass of sherry? Or perhaps I can offer a glass of fine Madeira. It’s been in my cellar ten years or more. It was laid down when―”

  “No thank you, sir. Nothing for me.”

  “Then take a seat and tell me what’s troubling you. For I can tell by that frown upon your brow that something is indeed distressing you.”

  Aaron sat across from Mr. Brentry.

  Hoping Emma’s wroth would not descend upon his head once she discovered what he was about to impart, he broadly outlined the facts to Mr. Brentry. He explained that after some consideration, and knowing Emma was keen to wed and was not averse to a marriage of convenience, he’d accepted her suggestion that they should marry, and sort of proposed.

  “Emma offered her dowry so I could pay off my cousin’s debt and regain my home. Only Windhurst Hall is no longer in the clutches of Cuthbert Williams. The promissory note has now been transferred to Lord Stratton.”

  “That puts a different light on things,” Mr. Brentry said. “I had thought Lord Stratton to be a true gentleman. But this tale you’ve told smacks of wrongdoing. Why would Stratton go out of his way to get that note? Something fishy is going on here, my boy.”

  “Yes, sir. So now you know why I wish to speak with Emma. I need to know what she would like me to do. Realizing I might not be able to get Windhurst Hall back, I’m quite prepared to call off our wedding. It will leave her free to find a more suitable husband. Someone who can offer her a good foundation upon which to build a marriage.”

  “My Emma is no fool. If she saw potential in you as a husband and will have you as you are, penniless and without a roof over your head, then that’s fine by me. Emma knows her own mind, and once she has made a decision, there’s no stopping her. I’d advise you not to try wriggling out of this union.”

  “But―”

  “How much is it you need? In the morning I shall call upon my bank and see that a banker’s draft is made out to you and the money transferred.”

  “But I wouldn’t want you to―”

  “There will be no need for you to pay me back. I see the money not as a loan, but as an investment for the future. Windhurst Hall will become my daughter’s home, and all being well, also the home of my grandchildren. One day they will inherit it. The house will be kept in the family, and that’s all the assurance I need. A sound investment if I say so myself.”

  “You are too generous, sir. But I’m not sure Emma will agree to such a scheme. She might not allow me to take advantage of your generous offer. I believe she is set in her ways, and I know she would not wish you to―”

  “You’re right. It seems you’ve come to know my daughter very well. She’s her own mistress and wouldn’t appreciate her father meddling in her husband’s affairs. We’ll just have to wait and see what she permits us to do. And between you and me, I suggest we find a way of making her think it was her idea that I’m to lend you the money. For in Emma’s eyes, a loan it will be. Emma is very like her mother in that respect. My wife ruled me with a rod of iron, and I thanked her for it. I wouldn’t have gotten to where I am today without my dear Isabella telling me what to do.”

  There came a knock on the library door and a footman, with some hesitation, entered.

  The footman bowed in Mr. Brentry’s direction. “Mrs. Walker would like a word with you, sir. She says it’s most urgent and concerns Miss Brentry.”

  Mr. Brentry sat bolt upright in his chair.

  “Show her in at once, man. Show her in.” Mr. Brentry then turned to Aaron. There was a worried frown upon his brow. “Something must be wrong. As a rule, my servants never trouble me. My steward or my daughter gives the household their instructions, and I’m never bothered with the day-to-day running of
my home. Something must be terribly amiss for them to come pestering me.”

  Aaron stood and was on the alert. If Mr. Brentry was concerned, then so too was he.

  A woman entered. She was of senior years and dressed in a black gown with a white apron tied at the waist. A white laced cap covered her hair. A large keyring with a number of keys attached were secured to her person around her waist by a chain. It was clear Mrs. Walker was Mr. Brentry’s housekeeper.

  “What is it?” Mr. Brentry asked the woman.

  “I know it ain’t my place to bother you, Mr. Brentry, sir. But being as it concerns Miss Emma, I thought you’d want to know.”

  “Know what?” asked Mr. Brentry and Aaron simultaneously.

  “It’s Gresham.”

  “What about my coachman?”

  “He’s just got back from collecting Miss Emma from Lady Bridgeworth’s house, only she weren’t there. Lady Bridgeworth said Miss Emma had walked off in the direction of Pulteney Bridge. And then Gresham said he thought he’d seen Miss Emma near The Paragon, but he couldn’t be sure. Only it couldn’t have been her ’cause she was getting into a carriage with someone that looked like his lordship. Gresham did mention his lordship’s name, only I can’t remember it. I’m thinking that it began with an S.”

  “Stratton? Lord Stratton?” asked Aaron.

  “Yes, that’s it. Lord Stratton. Anyway, Miss Emma ain’t returned and…”

  “And?” Mr. Brentry was now standing with his hand rested on the back of his chair, as if seeking support.

  “Gresham said he were off to the stables to saddle a couple of horses, in case you be wanting to chase after her. He’s going to bring ’um around to the front of the house.”

  “Is anything missing from Miss Brentry’s room?” Aaron ran his fingers hurriedly through his hair. “Has she packed a portmanteau or a hat box? Are her clothes still there?”

  Aaron’s stomach knotted. Instinctively, he knew something was wrong. It didn’t add up. Emma would never willingly seek contact with Lord Stratton. Not after the rough dealings she’d had with him in the garden.

  Mrs. Walker wrung her hands. “I’ve checked Miss Emma’s room and all that seems to be missing are the clothes she’s wearing. She’s not run away if that’s what you’re thinking. And I doubt there’s been an elopement, even though everyone knows his lordship was smitten with her.”

  Mr. Brentry looked across at Aaron. Seeing Mr. Brentry’s distress, and the desperate, urgent appeal in his eyes, Aaron knew what had to be done.

  “If I may have the use of your horse, sir?”

  Mr. Brentry frowned thoughtfully then shook his head. “No, don’t take a horse. Have Gresham prepare the barouche. You will need it if you are to bring my Emma home.”

  “Very well, sir. As soon as the carriage is ready, I will go to Lord Stratton’s house and make enquiries. Someone there will know if his lordship’s from home and where he can be found. I have to know if Emma willingly accompanied him or if she was forced into the carriage. If Gresham’s suspicions are correct and Emma is indeed with Lord Stratton, I will follow and ensure she is brought home. You have my word that I shall not sleep until she is safely returned to your door.”

  Chapter 14

  The carriage traveled at a swift pace, and as they journeyed toward Merton Manor, Emma wondered if she had made the right decision. With foolish, reckless abandonment, she had climbed unthinkingly into Lord Stratton’s carriage and was now no longer in reach of the safety and sanctuary of her father’s home.

  In deciding to join Lord Stratton, she had taken a perilous risk. But it was a risk deemed worthwhile if it meant that her efforts to challenge Lord Stratton ensured Windhurst Hall could be returned to Aaron, intact.

  With her pistol held pointedly at the ready, she felt in control of her destiny, yet she knew staunch vigilance was still very much needed.

  If her guard were to slip, Lord Stratton could overpower her, and then the reason for her journey to Merton Manor would be over. Her honor would be compromised. Aaron would not wish to have soiled goods, and her effort to reclaim Windhurst Hall would be pointless.

  The road they were on twisted and turned. And as the carriage swayed from side to side, Emma looked out of the window and noticed a familiar sight―it was The Stag and Hounds posting inn. She had fond memories of her time spent there with Aaron. The night they had made love, exchanged kisses and passionate embraces, and she had become his for all time, was etched in her heart forever.

  But the carriage didn’t stop at the watering hole. Instead, driving past the inn and surging onward, they continued along the Bath Road toward Corston and Bristol until they made a sharp left, heading in the direction of a small hamlet that was Newton Saint Loe.

  Upon reaching Merton Manor, Emma noticed it was a grand building. Built in a gothic style with solid gray stone walls upon which grotesque gargoyles and surreal figureheads had been carved, it stood majestic behind a tall boundary wall in the subtle afterglow of the early evening’s sunlight.

  Without the need of assistance, Emma swiftly alighted from the carriage, leaving his lordship to follow at will. With the assured steps of someone who was on a mission and had a purpose, she walked determinedly toward the house and entered through the open doorway.

  She was met in the hall by a servant. He was dressed resplendently in a livery uniform, with a white powdered wig upon his head. “Good afternoon. Can I be of service, miss? I’m Lord Merton’s butler, Carter.”

  Lord Stratton joined them. Setting down the hat, gloves, and cane he was carrying onto a nearby table, he said, “I don’t understand why everyone is in the habit of leaving their doors wide open. Anyone could enter the house and without warning. The place could be robbed.”

  Carter bowed low. “All are welcome at Merton Manor, sir. And as a rule, we country folk are honest people. The most that might go missing is a pheasant or two, or perhaps a trout, but―”

  Lord Stratton flashed a look of disdain in Carter’s direction, warning the butler he had overstepped the bounds of a servant. Carter had spoken when no response had been needed, and as a result, with a piercing stare, Lord Stratton had instantly silenced him.

  Trying to ease the tension, Emma said, “We have come to enquire if Lord Merton is at home. We would like to see him on a matter of some urgency.”

  “Certainly, miss. May I tell him who is enquiring?”

  “Lord Stratton and Miss Brentry, if you please.”

  “I’m not sure his lordship is in a condition to receive callers, but I’ll ask him if he will receive you and―”

  “Show us the way,” Lord Stratton said in a gruff voice. “We haven’t come all the way from Bath to be told we have wasted our time. Lead the way, man. Take us to his lordship at once.”

  Carter hesitated but conceded. “If you would care to come this way. I believe his lordship is in the garden room.”

  Carter escorted them through a grand hallway toward a room situated at the rear of the house. With another low bow, he stood aside and allowed them to enter.

  The room was spacious, and the décor was similar to that of her father’s house in Lansdown Crescent. Although Emma was not enamored with the new trend that had been influenced by the prince regent, her father was, and it appeared Lord Merton was as well.

  Slouched in a high-winged back chair with his legs spread wide and feet stretched out before him, Lord Merton looked more than a little relaxed. He had a snifter in hand and a bottle of brandy positioned strategically on a mahogany table at his side.

  Carter coughed. “A Miss Brentry and a Lord Stratton to see you, my lord.”

  “Is that you, Carter? I’d said I wasn’t to be disturbed.” His lordship raised his glass unsteadily to his lips, and in one toss, he swallowed the dark liquid down his throat.

  Although somewhat disheveled, Emma thought Aaron’s cousin to be quite handsome in appearance, and there was definitely a distinct family resemblance of sorts to Aaron. The only problem
was that his lordship had obviously consumed an inordinate amount of alcohol, rendering him to some degree, incapable of clear, coherent speech. And that was a great disappointment. Had her journey been wasted?

  At a glance, Emma assessed the situation and knew action had to be taken. Turning to Carter, she said, “We shall need a large pot of coffee, or tea, or something. Anything but spirits. And these windows must be opened to let in some air. This room is stifling.”

  Emma went to the windows, and lifting the frames high, allowing fresh air to enter and circulate, she then crossed to the French doors and flung them wide.

  “Much better,” she said to no one in particular. “Coffee, Carter…and now if you please!”

  “Yes, miss.” Carter closed the door firmly behind him as he left the room.

  Lord Merton momentarily surfaced from his stupor and realized he was no longer alone.

  “Ye gods, man! If it ain’t Stratton. What the devil are you doing in this neck of the woods? Newton Saint Loe ain’t the sort of place I’d expect to find you. Especially not at this time of year. I would have thought you to be in London, prancing on the dance floor at Almack’s or spending a night in Vauxhall Gardens, hunting for women. What brings you to my door, Stratton? And with such a delightful companion too. And who might you be, my dear?”

  There was a lecherous look in his lordship’s eyes as he leered in Emma’s direction.

  Ignoring his suggestive innuendo, and not even offering a respectful curtsy, Emma stepped forward and said, “Lord Merton, allow me to introduce myself. My name is Emma Brentry. I’ve come from Bath and―”

  Lord Stratton rudely held up his hand, stopping Emma mid-sentence. He then turned to Lord Merton and said, “I believe Miss Brentry has an avid interest in Windhurst Hall. She is eager to speak with you on a matter concerning Trent.”

  Emma looked at Lord Stratton, and with a frown, she shook her head. “I think now is not the time to discuss the reason why I am here. As you can see, his lordship is…uum…slightly the worse for wear.”