A Mistress for Stansted Hall

by Fenella J Miller

  Emma tingled all over from the touch of his hand on hers. She had been worrying unnecessarily, he did not think her wanton, his sudden departure had been genuine. ‘I am delighted to see you, sir, it has seemed very quiet without you here.’

  His rich baritone chuckle filled the room. He pulled her arm through his and strolled with her to a group of silk covered chairs and matching sofa. ‘Please, my dear, be seated. I have something most particular to ask you.’

  Her heart somersaulted, she could think of only one thing he might have to say that required her to be seated in the drawing room. He was about to make her an offer, they had known each other only a short while but already she knew what her answer would be. It would be yes, not because he could offer her a life of luxury and comfort, be an excellent father to her children, but because she had fallen irrevocably in love with him. Despite his uncertain temper and disfigurement, he was the most handsome and wonderful man in the world to her.

  She was relieved to sit, her legs were trembling with excitement. Her move to the schoolroom, the deference with which the staff were treating her, everything fell neatly into place. They all knew what she had failed to realise, she was to be the new mistress of Stansted Manor.

  Sitting, fingers folded to stop them shaking, eyes lowered demurely, she waited expectantly. He dropped beside her on the silk upholstery. Surely this was not the way the proposal should proceed? John had gone down on one knee before her, and he was certainly not of romantical turn of mind.

  ‘Mrs Reed, I have decided it is time that I rejoined society and I wish you to act as my hostess. Well, what do you think of that? It will mean you must organise yourself a suitable wardrobe, I cannot have you appearing at the head of my table dressed as my housekeeper.’

  Her head jerked up and she stared at him open mouthed, not sure exactly what he meant. ‘Mr Bucknall, you are suggesting that… that… I assume the role of your wife but remain as your housekeeper.’ Her hands flew to her mouth. No sooner had the words being spoken than she wished them back. He had not made any improper suggestions, it was she that had. She had not meant to imply anything of that nature, just that it was unseemly for a housekeeper to act as a gentleman's hostess.

  His friendly smile changed to an expression of incredulity, then to anger. He surged to his feet. ‘I am suggesting no such thing, madam, I thought you would be pleased to be given the opportunity to wear fine clothes and mix in society. We both know that you are no servant born, but a gentlewoman obliged to work for a living through no choice of her own. However, I can see that I have made a grave error of judgement, that you have misconstrued my suggestion.’

  She rose gracefully, biting her lip to keep back her tears. How could she have been so stupid as to think that a man in his position would even consider taking his housekeeper to be his wife? What he had suggested was a kind offer and she had ruined the moment with her foolishness. Unable to speak coherently, she turned and fled from the room not caring any more what he thought of her rudeness.

  She was still a few yards from freedom when somehow he was blocking her passage. ‘My love, I have mishandled this most dreadfully. Please, do not cry, I cannot bear to see you distressed. You mean the world to me, I thought that giving you the opportunity to mix you would find yourself a husband who was worthy of you, a whole man, not someone disfigured like me.’

  ‘I want no one else, why would you think that I needed to look elsewhere?’

  He gazed down at her, his expression slowly changing from concerned to dawning hope. ‘Are you telling me, my love, that you return my feelings?’

  She nodded unable to believe her dreams were to come true after all.

  Chapter Nine

  ‘I love you, Emma Reed, and want to marry you immediately.’ He swept her up in his arms and spun round, his face transformed.

  Laughing Emma threw her arms around his neck, as much for stability as anything else. ‘Please, put me down. This is not the way a marriage offer should be received in polite society.’

  He slid her down his chest, but did not release his hold. ‘Tarnation take society, I've never cared a fig for it.’ His smile sent tingles of excitement all over her. ‘Sweetheart, if you wish me to be conventional in this matter then so be it. I am yours to command.’

  ‘Now that's the most outrageous untruth, sir, and you know it. However, I shall overlook your disregard for honesty and seat myself to await your offer.’

  She settled back on to the sofa beginning to enjoy the role play. She was incandescent with joy; what she had felt for John had been a pale replica of the real thing. More infatuation than true love, that was why the marriage had not been a happy one for either of them.

  He schooled his features and clasped his hands to his chest in dramatic fashion. ‘My dear Mrs Reed, will you do me the…’

  ‘Enough, this will not do at all, sir. You must be on one knee, I shall not listen otherwise.’

  His expression made her giggle, with extreme reluctance he assumed the required stance. Raised a quizzical eyebrow and resumed his speech. ‘Will you do me the inestimable honour of becoming my wife?’

  From nowhere an imp of mischief prompted her reply. ‘I thank you for your offer, Mr Bucknall. I shall give it my utmost consideration and let you know my answer by and by.’

  ‘Saucy minx. You have already agreed, I shall hold you to that.’ He sprung to his feet then resumed his place beside her, his face serious. ‘I should like to be married here, in the chapel, not have banns called in church. Would you object to that?’

  ‘I had no idea there was a private chapel at Stansted. As long as we are married in the sight of God by on ordained minister I care not where it is. However, although I have no objection to being married immediately, I do need time to gather a trousseau.’

  ‘I believe that there's an excellent seamstress in the next village. Send for her, use the materials upstairs. I should love to see you in the gold silk.’

  It was a considerable time later that all the plans were in hand. Rupert, for that is how she must address him now, insisted that she move downstairs and take a suite of rooms on the first floor. Jack and Mary could remain in the nursery with Tilly. An advertisement for a suitable governess was to be placed immediately in The Times, and the staff to be told of her forthcoming nuptials.

  ‘And, my love, I wish to see no more of those hideous caps hiding your glorious hair.’ His eyes darkened and he gathered her close. ‘I cannot wait to see it loose about your shoulders, run my fingers through its silky tresses.’ He lifted her until her mouth was on a level with his and then kissed her lovingly. With a sigh of regret he put it down and stepped away. ‘I have deep pockets, my darling Emma. Although, as you quite rightly pointed out, I am not a biddable man, everything I have is yours. I shall not stint you or the children in any way.’

  She touched his gloved hand. ‘I should like to write to my father and tell him where I am and that I intend to marry again. We have been estranged too long, he does not even know he has grandchildren, perhaps this time he will be more approving of my choice.’

  ‘Do that, I shall not go to London for the special licence until next week, then I can combine it with the arrival of my fleet from India.’

  The days sped past in a blur of happiness and excitement. Even Mary lost her reservations about Rupert, and it was a pleasure to see them interacting together. Jack, of course, was overjoyed he was to have a new papa. The seamstress proved as excellent as her reputation; she had brought with her three girls to assist in the making of gowns in fabulous colours and materials. There were to be so many Emma feared she would never have the opportunity to wear them all. Both children were also measured and new garments made for them.

  The chapel, which had been disgracefully neglected these past three years, was scrubbed clean and made ready for the marriage ceremony. The rector was delighted to be asked to officiate and appeared genuinely pleased that Rupert had found happiness after so much grief.

  R
upert decided to ride to Town, William was to accompany him with the baggage horse. He was not expected to be gone more than three days, when he returned they would be married. She was as skittish as a kitten; although a mature and experienced woman, she could have been no more excited than if she was embarking on her first relationship. This is what it felt like; she had found her soul mate and believed that he had found his.

  In the nursery early the following morning Jack said he had something important to ask her. ‘What is it, my dear? You know you can tell me anything that's troubling you.’

  ‘Will my new papa shout at me when I am disobedient?’

  Shocked she dropped down to her knees beside him. ‘Why should you ask that, Jack? Hasn't he always been kind to you?’

  Tears trickled down his cheeks and he shook his head. ‘He shouted at me, he was so angry I fell in the lake.’

  Mary overheard this comment. ‘Serves you right. And anyway he fished you out again, didn't he?’

  Emma's emotions were in turmoil. Had she made a dreadful error agreeing to marry a man with an uncertain temper? She must speak to him immediately, get his promise he would not treat her children roughly and not raise a hand to them in anger.

  ‘Mary, take Jack in the garden, I shall send Tilly down to join you later.’ The children left and she could hear Jack talking loudly about the accident, it would be all over the house in no time. It was imperative that she spoke to Rupert, heard what had happened from him.

  She recalled how William had said his master was tetchy after the accident – this must have been the cause. A guilty conscience would have made him cross. Did she know this man well enough to spend the rest of her life with him? She had made a mistake once, rushed into something too impulsively, perhaps this was a good reason to slow things down?

  Not waiting a moment longer she gathered her skirts and ran through the house, seriously startling two footmen hanging a painting in the corridor. She knocked on Rupert's sitting room door praying he was still there, that she was in time to speak to him.

  The door opened beneath her fingers. She was too late, he had already gone. She must speak to Tilly about this, Jack might have said more about the incident to her. Was this a good idea? Talking to the servants about such matters would surely be inappropriate? If only Rupert had told her at the time.

  Undecided as to what to do next, she was hesitating on the landing when Foster puffed up the stairs waving a letter.

  ‘This has come by express, Mrs Reed. It is addressed to yourself.’

  Snapping the wax seal open she read the contents with growing dismay. ‘Mr Foster, have the carriage made ready, I must leave immediately.’

  Papa was on his deathbed, wished her to return to her family home at once so that they could be reconciled before he died. She could hardly refuse, it was her duty. On her return to her apartment she called for Tilly. ‘Quickly, pack a trunk for the children. We must go to Essex at once. Send word downstairs that the children must come back immediately and get ready.’

  The girl who acted as her abigail was efficient and soon had a trunk packed and ready to be transported downstairs. In the interim Emma wrote a quick note to Rupert explaining where she was and asking him to join her as soon as he could. She then placed it in a prominent position on the desk in his study where he would see it. With a heavy heart she climbed into the carriage and sank onto the smart, navy leather squabs.

  Even Jack was subdued, content to stare out of the window and enjoy the novelty of travelling in a private vehicle for the first time in his life. ‘Tilly, we should be at our destination this afternoon. Cook has prepared us a delicious picnic hamper so we shall stop somewhere suitable to eat.’

  As the comfortable coach trundled on she had ample opportunity to consider the implications. If her father was indeed about to meet his maker she would be obligated to go into deep mourning for at least six months. All thoughts of marriage must be put to one side until that period of time had elapsed. How could she endure the wait? At least this enforced separation had settled the doubts she might have had about the marriage. She loved and trusted Rupert, what had transpired at the lake had been an accident, she would not hold it against him.

  *

  Rupert thundered up the drive, the marriage licence and betrothal rings were burning a hole in his waistcoat pocket. He expected to be greeted by the children, Jack especially, but there was no sign of them. He vaulted from his horse and tossed the reins to William.

  ‘Take him round to the stable, join me as soon as you may as there are things we need to put in motion for tomorrow.’

  The front door opened as he reached the bottom of the marble steps. It was his man of affairs. ‘Thank God you are here, sir, the house is in uproar. Mr Foster was found dead in bed this morning and neither the housekeeper nor senior footman seem capable of dealing with the matter.’

  ‘Why does Mrs Reed not manage things?’ Tavistock shuffled and looked away. ‘What is it, man?’

  ‘Mrs Reed left here three days ago, the same morning that you did. Nobody appears to know where she's gone or why she went.’

  Rupert could not deal with this information now, there would be a simple explanation when he had time to discover it. He must take command of his household. ‘Has Doctor Andrews been sent for? What about the undertaker?’

  His man of affairs had only just arrived himself and had yet to ascertain this information. Rupert examined the body, rigor mortis had already set in, so the old man had been dead for some time. He was sad to see him go, but Foster had lived a decade more than his allotted time.

  ‘As no one has thought to lay him out in his best outfit this will have to be done tomorrow.’ He turned to Tavistock who was hovering behind him. ‘I shall leave this matter to you, do whatever is necessary. The funeral can be in the chapel and he can be buried in the family graveyard. I do not wish to be disturbed.’

  There must be a letter waiting for him, Emma would not have left without explaining her reasons. There was nothing in the study, nothing in his apartment or hers. Taking the stairs two at a time he arrived in the nursery to find it deserted, he checked the bedchambers and the nursemaid's room but the beds had not been slept in.

  The first trickle of doubt brought a sour taste into his mouth. Perhaps the old gardener would know where they had gone, Jack and Mary spent a deal of time with him. He strode through the house and round to the stable yard. William came up to him, he did not look happy.

  ‘Mrs Reed left here in your carriage with the children and Tilly, Tom Coachman drove and Bert accompanied him, they returned without them. They went to her family home.’ He fiddled with his cap. ‘May I speak frankly, sir?’

  ‘Get on with it. Whatever you have discovered I wish to know it immediately.’

  ‘It seems that Master Jack was in the yard and told the stable boy, who has become a particular friend of his, that Mrs Reed had been very upset to find out…’ he cleared his throat and ran his hand around his neck cloth as if it had grown too tight. ‘Master Jack said Mrs Reed had been upset to discover you had been the cause of his accident.’

  Rupert's happiness fell in ashes round his feet. He should have told Emma at the time, had known one day Jack would tell his mother whose fault it had been. She had left him, and he didn't blame her. He had all but killed her precious son and then been too much of a coward to own up. Small wonder she had changed her mind and run away.

  He needed to be on his own, away from sympathetic faces, he would lock himself in his study as he used to do until he felt able to face the world again. He was sorely tempted to demand a decanter of brandy but refrained. Although his beloved had gone, she had changed him, and in her honour he would not slip back into his reprehensible ways.

  Maybe she would find it in her heart to forgive him eventually, might come back one day. He would be waiting for her, she would find the house immaculate, the grounds also; all improvements he had planned to his estate, on the farms, must still go ahead. Maybe
he would get in that Capability Brown fellow to landscape the gardens.

  Weighed down by his grief, almost blinded by tears for what might have been, he stumbled back to his sanctuary and collapsed, head in hands at his desk.

  *

  ‘Are we nearly there yet, Mama. It has been an age since you said we would be there soon.’

  ‘Jack, my dear, can you see those tall trees through the window?’ The little boy nodded. ‘They are the boundary to your grandfather's estate. We shall be turning into the drive at any moment. By the time Tilly has wiped your face and straightened your garments we will be there.’

  Emma checked her bonnet was straight, the pretty blue ribbons neatly tied beneath her chin, that her pelisse was unwrinkled and her matching, half-kid boots unmarked. Scrambling about in a meadow with the children after the picnic could well have mired them. Satisfied she was neat, that in her new ensemble she would make a good impression on the man who valued money above family ties, she smiled at her children.

  ‘Remember, both of you, you must be on your best behaviour at all times. Your grandfather is very poorly, that is why we are here.’

  ‘Shall we be going home soon, Mama?’ Jack asked plaintively.

  Mary scowled at him. ‘We cannot go back to Stansted Manor until either our grandfather recovers or he dies.’ She stared earnestly at Emma. ‘We will have to stay for several weeks whatever happens, won't we? I hope that our new papa will come soon to keep us company.’

  ‘As do I, my love. I have explained it all to him in my letter, I'm sure that he will be with us by the end of the week. He was not due to return from London for at least three days, which means he should be able to join us by Saturday. I'm sure we will all be counting the hours.’