From Waif to Gentleman's Wife

by Julia Justiss

  She was sighing at that image when her newly reactivated sense of danger warned her someone else was approaching.

  The momentary jolt of panic eased when she recognised the man’s limping gait. Returning Sergeant Jesse Russell’s wave of greeting, she waited for him to reach the schoolhouse step.

  The soldier smiled as he made her a bow. ‘Good afternoon, ma’am. I didn’t expect to have to beg your good services again so soon, but here I am. If it would be convenient?’ He angled his head, looking around. ‘I see the workmen have left. If you are ready to head home, I can return—’

  ‘No, it’s all right, Sergeant,’ she interrupted. ‘You’ve brought your supplies—’ she indicated the saddlebag over his good shoulder ‘—which is fortunate, since as of yet I have only slates and chalk here. But the benches and tables are complete, and there’s light aplenty to illumine them. Won’t you come take a look? The carpenters and stonemasons have outdone themselves.’ With justifiable pride, she led him inside.

  Sergeant Russell gazed around the room, his eyes widening before he nodded an approval. ‘A fine job indeed! Looks far more hospitable than the schoolroom where I was educated in Nottingham. Hard benches, a few oil candles as smoky as they were dim, cold, windowless stone walls—and a stack of switches in the corner, which the master used regularly!’

  Joanna felt a momentary qualm. ‘I certainly hope I shan’t need any of those!’

  ‘I don’t expect you will,’ Sergeant Russell replied. ‘All the children I’ve encountered hereabouts are excited to begin—though their enthusiasm at escaping their chores may wane when they discover that school means work, too. Except for Davie Smith. There’s a lad of drive and ambition who seems mad for learning. I hear Mr Greaves has taken him on as an assistant.’

  ‘Yes, but he shall be released from some of his duties to attend school. He does seem particularly eager, and he’s certainly apt.’

  The soldier nodded. ‘With his youth, a sound body and spirit, and the assistance of a man with such exalted connections as Ned Greaves, he should make something of himself.’ He gave a wry grimace. ‘He’ll probably never need the sort of assistance to which those less able must resort.’

  In Davie Smith he probably saw himself, Joanna thought, before the war and circumstances had mangled his body and stunted his dreams. Oh, that the Sergeant might once again believe that he was so much more! ‘One of the benefits of learning, as you must know, is realising a man’s true worth lies not in strength of body, but in the breadth of his mind and the fullness of his heart.’

  He gave her a sad little smile that made her chest ache. ‘Would that the world saw it that way, ma’am. But I do thank you for the encouragement.’

  Hoping she’d cheered him at least a little, Joanna accepted the saddlebag he offered. ‘With what can I help you today?’

  The smile faded altogether. ‘Lord Evers declined my request for a loan. I don’t much like the prospect, but I’ve an army friend, wounded like me, who told me while we recovered that if I encountered problems in the future, to contact him. He claimed his father had extensive holdings and might offer me a leasehold.’

  The soldier sighed. ‘I don’t want to farm, but I might convince the father to extend me a loan instead of the lease. After my sojourn in Hazelwick, I’m more than ever determined to emigrate. There’s nothing left here. I might as well cease fighting the fact—and tormenting myself with what can never be.’ He gave her a lopsided grin. ‘Not really fair to blame a girl for not wanting a crippled, useless old soldier, no matter what promises she made him before the war.’

  So the Sergeant had come back to some local sweetheart, only to be rejected because of his injuries? With outrage and the empathy of one who knew what it was to be heart-wounded, she cried, ‘Nonsense! You may be at a standstill for the moment, but with your education and intelligence, you will find another position, perhaps even a better one!’

  ‘Oh, I shall come about, one way or another,’ he declared. ‘Forgive me for sounding so down-hearted. It’s just…when a man loves a girl, he wants to be able to offer her everything—the strength of a sound body as well as a full heart, and all the bright future he promised when she pledged him her faith. Whether or not she honoured that pledge,’ he added bitterly, staring into the distance.

  A moment later, he snapped his attention back to Joanna. ‘She made her choice, and it wasn’t me. Hard as that is to accept, it’s time I settled that into my head and moved on.’ His bitter tone abruptly lightening, he gave her a rueful smile. ‘Though a lady does have a way of invading a man’s mind and heart such that it’s awfully difficult to pry her out and feel whole again.’

  Her thoughts went immediately to Thomas—and her heart twisted. ‘I protest, Sergeant! My sex is not alone in the ability to invade and bruise hearts—or cause a grief from which it is very difficult to recover.’

  A ready sympathy sprang into his eyes. ‘Forgive me for prosing on about my disappointment when your loss of a loyal husband must cut far deeper than my regret over a faithless jade. Well, distasteful as I find it, shall we do that letter?’

  Nodding, she set out the supplies on the table, then scribed carefully as he narrated, though her attention kept straying to the sad business of the lady who had disappointed him. After he’d packed up his supplies, thanked her and they’d exchanged goodbyes, she couldn’t help adding, ‘The love of a wise, loyal, honest man is a priceless thing, Sergeant. Whoever the young lady was, she was a very great fool to let you go. I pray you will find another more worthy of you.’

  He gave her another sad smile. ‘Thank you, ma’am. I hope someday you’ll find another good man, too.’

  I already have, a little voice in her heart said—if he wants me.

  After a wave goodbye, she stood in the doorway and watched as Sergeant Russell walked back in the direction of the village. Her lingering sadness veered abruptly to a sense of joy when, coming from the opposite direction, she spotted the approach of a familiar gig.

  Perhaps Mr Greaves was driving by after all!

  Chapter Eleven

  N ed’s heart lightened as, his new assistant Davie at his side, he directed the gig down the lane towards the schoolhouse, returning a wave of greeting from Sergeant Russell as they passed. He really should have put in a few more hours at Miller Farm, but when Tanner the stonemason told him as he drove his cart by Miller’s field that all the workmen at the school had finished for the day, he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation to halt long enough to escort Mrs Merrill home.

  The gig rounded the bend and he saw her, framed in the doorway of the school. The copper glow of her hair and the brilliance of her smile seemed to capture the warmth of the sun itself, stealing his breath and making his body ache with need and gladness.‘I hadn’t expected to see you,’ she said as she walked over to greet them. ‘Are you travelling towards the manor?’

  ‘Yes, I thought we would swing by and accompany you home before I drive Davie back to Granny Cuthbert’s.’

  ‘Mr Tanner said the school be nearly done,’ David said.

  ‘Yes, it is.’ No doubt noting the excited look on the boy’s face, she said, ‘Would you like to take a look?’

  He nodded eagerly. ‘If’n I might, ma’am.’ After a nod of approval from Ned, he scrambled from the gig.

  She gestured to the door. ‘Please, go in. Select a seat, if you wish.’ After waving the boy past, she glanced back to Ned. ‘Have a look yourself, Mr Greaves.’

  He smiled back. ‘Perhaps I will.’

  She followed Davie back towards the entrance while Ned alighted and secured the gig. His spirits quickened as he went to join her, every sense springing to the alert at the prospect of being near her.

  Struggling to keep his thoughts focused on the boy, Ned stopped beside her on the threshold. ‘He can’t wait to begin,’ Ned said, watching Davie wander about, wonderment on his face as he traced a reverent hand over the smooth surfaces of the benches and desks.

&
nbsp; ‘So Sergeant Russell said,’ she replied. ‘Instructing him will be a joy.’

  Abruptly recalling they had just passed the soldier on the road, Ned felt a sharp stab of what felt uncomfortably like jealousy. Had the Sergeant tarried here, alone with Mrs Merrill?

  ‘You’ve spoken to Russell recently?’ he asked, trying to keep an unwonted irritation from his tone.

  ‘A few minutes ago. He wished me to write another letter for him.’ Her bright look dimmed to a frown. ‘Unfortunately, it appears the gentleman who was to employ him has declined to offer any other assistance, so he is forced to look for another source of funds. He is still set on emigrating…’ She paused, then shook her head with a little sigh. ‘Though his family resides in Nottingham, apparently he returned to Hazelwick seeking his former sweetheart, who either decided not to wait for him, or rejected him after he returned wounded. Oh, to add that emotional pain on top of his physical losses! How badly I feel for him!’

  Ned recalled the scene at the Hart and Hare. Could the barmaid Mary have been Russell’s former love?

  Admittedly Ned understood women about as well as a tailor knows ploughing, but he would have guessed a girl would prefer marriage to an educated man with good prospects like the Sergeant—regardless of his political views—to the questionable security of the path Mary now trod.

  But perhaps he was mistaken, and the Sergeant’s faithless love was another girl entirely.

  He emerged from his contemplation to find Mrs Merrill studying him hopefully. ‘You’ve been able to do so much for the rest of Blenhem Hill’s people. Might there be among your acquaintance, or that of your employer, someone who could find a position for a soldier who has served his country as faithfully, and paid for that service as dearly, as Sergeant Russell?’

  Ned supposed it was a positive sign that she’d even considered having him solicit his ‘employer’ on the soldier’s behalf. Still, if the Sergeant were deeply involved in Spencean planning, he might well be counting on emigration as a possible escape, should a plot gone awry throw him into the hands of the authorities.

  Nicky wouldn’t thank him for embroiling him in the affairs of such a man, though Ned had as yet nothing but a handful of words to indicate the Sergeant might in fact be a radical. Besides, if the soldier were a potential agitator, better to export him to the Americas and let him work his mischief there.

  All rational reasoning aside, when the lovely Mrs Merrill stared at him with that look of appeal in her moss-green eyes, seeming to exude confidence in his ability to successfully resolve the situation, how could he refuse?

  ‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said at last.

  With a radiant smile, she clasped his elbow, sending little shivers of delight up his arm and down his body to settle in his loins. ‘Thank you. I knew you couldn’t simply stand by and watch such an injustice.’

  Ned wasn’t sure about that, but he did know he could stand here forever, breathing in her exotic spicy scent, eyelids fluttering shut in rapture at the feel of her fingers against his arm, while the sweet torture of her nearness set his loins aflame. He swallowed hard, his pulse pounding at the effort necessary to curb the nearly overwhelming need to draw her into his arms.

  Just then Davie bounded towards them. To Ned’s mingled relief and regret, Mrs Merrill released his arm and stepped away.

  ‘It’s wonderful, ma’am! A whole sight better’n a big dark room full of clacking, clanking looms! Kin I sit right here?’ He pointed to the desk in the front row beside the window.

  ‘Of course. If Mr Greaves agrees, we shall open the school the first day of next week.’

  ‘So soon?’ Ned replied, a bit surprised the workman had progressed that far. ‘I can see the carpenters have finished, but I understood from Tanner that the stonework wasn’t yet complete.’

  ‘There’s just a bit left, for which Mr Tanner is obtaining the rock. Truly, there is so little still to do that they all abandoned me early this afternoon.’

  A slight shadow passed over her face. ‘Though I did have one…unusual caller, whom I felt sure you would want to know about.’

  The troubled look cleared the last vestiges of sensual fog from his brain. ‘Tell me, then,’ he urged, now completely on the alert.

  ‘A Mr George Hampton stopped by, saying he was a friend of my brother. Are either of you acquainted with him?’

  Ned shook his head, while Davie said, ‘Ain’t never been anyone hereabouts by that name.’

  ‘He said he’d often been a guest at Blenhem Hill when Greville was the manager, and expressed his concern over what he thought was the…shabby way my brother had been treated. He said he’d sought me out hoping I might know Greville’s current direction, as he had some situations in mind for him.’

  ‘Often had parties of gents from Lunnon at the manor,’ Davie confirmed. ‘Females, too, though they weren’t—’ At a sharp look from Ned, the boy halted abruptly, his face flushing.

  ‘Quite gentlemanly of Mr Hampton to enquire about your brother’s welfare,’ Ned inserted smoothly. ‘But, forgive me if I’m misreading this—’ he cast another look at her still-troubled face ‘—you seem somewhat distressed after his visit.’

  Her eyes widening in surprise, she replied, ‘How perspicacious, Mr Greaves! Indeed, I am. You see, after expressing his solicitude for my brother, Mr Hampton went on to espouse quite radical sentiments about the inequity of the aristocracy holding land and power, then professed a scornful disregard for the consequences visited upon those who break the law. You mentioned earlier that there might be a group of Spenceans in the area. I haven’t any experience with the sort, but from my observation of military men, combining as he did the look of a gentleman with a decided eloquence of speech, Mr Hampton appeared more likely to be the leader of such a group than a follower.’

  She gave a nervous laugh. ‘Trying to play on my sympathies for my brother, he even tried to recruit me.’

  Excitement and urgency stirred Ned’s hunter’s instincts to full cry. Might this mysterious stranger be the man who had orchestrated the attack on his carriage, who directed—or at least encouraged—the meetings of the disaffected local workers at the Hart and Hare?

  ‘Did Mr Hampton say where he was from?’ he asked.

  ‘No, though from his words and accent he didn’t appear to be local. More London-bred, I would think.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  ‘Not in a way that would be of much assistance. Medium height and build, nothing notable about his face, clothing such as any country gentleman might wear. And forgive me, I neglected to get a look at his horse, so…unsettled did he make me.’

  Something in her tone and expression penetrated his urgency to discover more about Hampton’s political connections, arousing his deepest protective instincts. ‘Did he threaten you about joining his cause?’

  ‘Not…exactly.’ She cast a look at Davie, her face flushing. ‘He just made me…uncomfortable.’

  He’d made advances, Ned realised at once, his desire to find and confront Hampton intensifying to a rage. Mrs Merrill obviously didn’t want to provide any further details in front of young Davie, but if this miscreant had laid so much as a single rabble-rousing finger on her slender arm, Ned was ready to tear his throat out.

  When the sudden haze of anger in his brain settled, he found Davie frowning. ‘Not right for a gentleman to threaten a female. ’Specially not a lady like you, ma’am. Don’t you worry none, though. Blenhem Hill don’t get many strangers. If he lingers hereabouts, someone will notice, and we’ll take care of him.’

  By querying the group that met at the Hart and Hare? Davie, who sometimes mucked out stables there, might know more about such a group. After giving the boy a look that implied they would discuss the matter further out of Mrs Merrill’s hearing, Ned said, ‘We will indeed. Until the matter is settled, however, if you are planning to work again at the building before the pupils arrive, I should feel better having Davie accompany you.’

&
nbsp; For an instant, she frowned and made as if to reply, then halted, her eyes darkening with a look that might be disappointment. Would she prefer it to be him, rather than Davie, who stayed near to safeguard her, though she’d not wound the boy’s feelings by saying so? he wondered hopefully. Or had lust and longing made him read into her expression a meaning that wasn’t there?

  She gave them a rueful smile. ‘It’s hen-hearted of me, I know, but I must admit, I would feel easier about completing my work here if I had an escort. At least until the mysterious Mr Hampton is run to ground.’

  As if to verify his suspicions, she turned her attention to Davie. ‘Accompanied by a young gentleman who stood up to a villain like Mr Barksdale, I shall feel quite safe.’

  Davie stood a little straighter, puffing out his chest. ‘Mean snake of a man, Barksdale. More’n chousin’ folks out of their rents, he liked for ’em to be afraid of him.’ He grinned. ‘Which was why he had no use for me.’

  ‘And why he had to ambush you at night,’ she replied.

  ‘But I’m on my guard now. Seen folks just like Barksdale in the mills. Bully always backs down if a body stands up to him.’

  As Davie pronounced that truth, Ned’s attention was caught by the sound of hoofbeats. Turning towards the road, he saw one of the mill workers riding up at a gallop.

  ‘Mr Greaves, come quick,’ the man shouted as he slowed his mount to a trot. ‘There be a fire at the stocking mill!’

  Chapter Twelve