by Erin Grace
His father had retired to his room the moment they’d returned to the manor. Not one word had the old man uttered to him throughout the entire service, not that he’d expected any words of comfort.
He glanced along the vast mahogany dining table to where Cecily sat, her hand clenching a fine linen napkin, her despondent gaze drilling a hole through the antique plate setting before her. Though the upper class were known for their emotional fortitude at such occasions, it had somewhat surprised him that through the entire service she hadn’t shed a single tear.
She reached out, picked up her crystal goblet and took a long sip of the red wine, before resting the edge of the glass against her chin.
‘Indeed, Mama. Though perhaps we should be fortunate the vicar wasn’t performing the wedding instead.’
‘Cecily!’ Lady Stanton paled at her daughters’ comment. ‘I admit the man could have used a little more gravitas in his delivery, but you couldn’t expect him to be bright and cheerful. After all, it was Henry’s funeral.’
‘Really? I wasn’t aware.’ Cecily stood abruptly, and tossed her napkin onto her plate where a light serving of trout in aspic lay untouched. Without looking back, she headed for the doorway. ‘Now, if you will both excuse me, I need to lie down for a while.’
The cold bitterness in her tone unsettled him though he would never admit it aloud. In all the time they were together, never once had she uttered a spiteful word. What had changed her?
Clearly gob-smacked, Lady Stanton glared at him. She wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin and cleared her throat.
‘Gabriel, you simply can’t let her leave like that. I must insist you go after her at once. She is upset, and in her condition, she is very delicate.’
‘Captain, if you don’t mind.’
‘I beg your pardon?’ Two deep amber eyes met his with a quizzical gaze. Although Cecily had gained her lovely blue eyes from her father, she’d inherited the rest of her slender figure from her mother.
Lady Stanton had once been the toast of London. In her youth she had been called a diamond of the first water, with guinea-gold hair and a creamy complexion which was still evident despite her advanced years. She had married well, and despite her husband being a good twenty-five years her senior, managed to produce two daughters, but no heir. And, though Lord Stanton had been dead a good ten years now, Lady Stanton had yet to remarry. Not that she didn’t a have a bevy of suitors stalking her every attendance during the season.
Some say she waits for love to strike again, while others suggest love was never a factor of her previous marriage and that she is more likely waiting for a rich enough suitor to come along. It was no secret amongst the ton that beside the trusts held for her daughters’ dowries, Lady Stanton was broke.
Whatever her reasons, he knew for certain she would not give up her freedom so easily now she has it. And, by marrying Cecily off to his family, she wouldn’t have to worry about finding herself a husband. In short, her future would be a secure and comfortable one with her daughter paying the bills.
He wiped the corners of his mouth with a linen napkin then placed it upon the table. ‘From now on, I’d prefer you address me as captain, or Captain Holsworthy, or sir. Whichever you see fit.’
Always composed, it surprised him to see her suddenly so uncomfortable in his presence.
‘I see.’ She raised her fingers to her lips, cleared her throat. ‘I suppose I should expect that, considering the circumstances.’
He rested his fork upon his plate and picked up his glass of burgundy.
‘Cecily is a grown woman, madam. Let her go. I think rest is the best thing for her at the moment.’
‘Well, yes, but shouldn’t you be the one to offer her some comfort? After all, you both will be married soon.’
His fingers tightened around the fragile glass stem. ‘My brother is barely cold in the ground, yet you so freely discuss marriage as if he never existed. I applaud your rather short memory, my lady. However, please do not mistake my agreement to wed Cecily as an indication that you and I are on any kind of intimate ground. You may count on my being cordial in social circles, but that is as far as I am prepared to go.’
‘How can you talk to me this way? I have known you since you were a boy. Your mother and I was the dearest of friends.’
He stood, glass in hand. ‘Would you have me recite the exact reasons?’
She paled and shook her head. ‘No.’
‘I didn’t think so.’ Though he couldn’t blame her entirely for Cecily leaving him, he did recall she didn’t discourage her daughter either. After all, who would want a second son, when the heir was both willing and wanting? ‘And as for the child, your presence will be tolerated to a point. But be aware if I feel at any time your influence over Henry’s child is detrimental to its happiness or health then you will be banned from Etford forever. Do you understand, madam?’
Lady Stanton fidgeted with her plate and kept her eyes downward. ‘I understand.’
‘Excellent. Then I will bid you good day, madam. I believe I need some air.’ He placed his goblet on the table and moved to make his way to the balcony, desperate to feel the sting of cold air on his face. He’d had enough suffocating company for one day.
‘Captain…If I may, there is one more matter I need speak to you about.’ He paused by the French doors and glanced back.
‘What is it?’
‘My other daughter, Lydia, is unwell, so I must return to London tomorrow. Unfortunately, Cecily and I had only brought one lady’s maid with us, and it is imperative we procure one for her before I depart.’
A tight smile curved his lips. ‘After everything that has transpired, you concern yourself with your daughter’s virtue?’
‘It is hardly the point. Would you deny her the care she needs, or at least the appearance of her honor? After all, nothing has been publicly announced as yet.’
‘Very well. I don’t have much experience in such matters, and I believe we don’t have anyone suitable at Etford. Our female staff consists only of a housekeeper, cook and scullery maid. As much as I dislike the notion, I will have a word with the vicar. I am certain his wife will enjoy the task of finding Cecily a suitable maid until your return.’
‘Thank you, Captain. That is very generous of you.’
‘I don’t want your thanks, Lady Stanton. I am not doing this for you.’
‘Stephaney. Come away at once.’ Lily cringed as her little sister balanced precariously upon the high rafters inside the vicarage barn. Showers of dust and hay fell around her as she prayed her sibling didn’t do anything foolish.
Blast Henrietta for making Stephaney work in the stables. ‘I’m fine, Lily. Please stop worrying. Just a few…more…Got it!’
A huge brown bundle landed inches from her feet, sending a plume of dirt and muck all over her.
She coughed and waved the dust away. ‘Stephaney, what on earth are you doing?’
Two scrawny legs, covered in calico pantaloons, scurried down the wooden ladder, confirming her belief that her little sister really should have been a boy.
Stephaney nodded toward the lump of leather and buckles. ‘It’s a saddle.’
‘Thank you, I can see that. In fact, I almost wore it. I’ll thank you to know the difference between me and Dobbin from now on.’
Her breath caught, as for a brief moment she swore her sister smiled. Or, at least the very hint of one. Then her hope faded as a scowl formed on Stephaney’s mouth.
Her sister hadn’t smiled once since their papa passed away.
‘If you look more closely, Lily, you’ll see it’s a side-saddle and blanket. Mr Gleeson said I might find one up there.’
‘What on earth will we do with it?’
Stephaney grunted as she hauled the heavy object up against her and began dragging it out to the stable yard. ‘What do you think we shall do with it? Ride, of course, silly.’
She raised an eyebrow at her sister’s impertinence but chose t
o ignore it. ‘But, you have not had enough lessons. You can’t ride properly yet.’
‘No.’ Stephaney dumped the saddle down upon the worn cobblestones and met her weary gaze. ‘But you can.’
Suddenly, the thought of riding again sent a tiny thrill scurrying throughout her. It had been over a year since she’d ridden. Mama had always insisted the girls learn how to ride, and she would spend many Saturday mornings in Hyde Park taking lessons.
‘Oh, Lily. You must! How perfectly wonderful. You simply must go for a short ride at least.’ Dressed in a beautiful peach hooded cloak trimmed in fox fur, Annabelle had been waiting for her outside in the stable yard. Though, in truth, considering there were only two horses in residence you could hardly consider it a proper stable.
Yet Mr Gleeson would come several times a week and donate his time to the vicarage by looking after Dobbin and Albert, the two aging workhorses.
It amused her that her sister and the elderly gent got on famously, the man often mentioning how Stephaney was a natural with horses and most other animals they had in the yard.
Some summer mornings she would come out for eggs, only to find her sister dozing in a sunny spot, a chicken nestled cozily on her lap.
The girl was forever covered in dirt.
‘Good afternoon to you, Miss Lily.’ Mr Gleeson tipped his cap and began fitting the saddle as she smiled and stroked Dobbin’s neck.
‘Good afternoon. I see my sister intends for me to go riding, but I don’t think poor Dobbin would appreciate it.’
‘Oh, now don’t you worry about old Dobbin. He’s strong ‘orse, he is. If he can pull carts and a plough, taking you on ‘is back would be like carrying a sparrow.’
‘Go on, Lily.’ Annabelle placed down a small wicker basket and joined her to pat the horse. ‘I will wait here with Stephaney.’
‘But, we were supposed to be going into the village to look at books.’ One of the rare times Henrietta had actually given her a free afternoon – as long as she was home in time to start dinner. Seems her aunt was so enraptured with the way matters went with the funeral service that morning, she was inclined to spend the afternoon swimming in the praise of her ladies’ group.
Though, in her opinion, the church decorations had been a bit over the top. Never had she seen so many flowers in one place, the church rivaling a busy London florist. Henrietta must have purchased every hothouse bloom between Speckles Wood and London. She could only imagine the hideous cost.
She smiled to herself and stroked down along Dobbin’s nose. Well, if it cost the captain a pretty penny, he could certainly afford it. It was well known by all the local mothers with eligible daughters, that not only was the captain’s family rich, but he’d accumulated a vast personal fortune through his own business investments. Regardless, perhaps next time the captain will be more careful when he stated ‘spare no expense’.
She sighed and stepped back from the animal. ‘No. No, I couldn’t possibly go out in this weather. Besides, I no longer have my riding habit.’ Or much of anything else. Their poor mama had been forced to sell off most of their possessions before she left London.
Papa’s death taxes had been most cruel.
And, from what she could ascertain, what savings her parents did have in the bank had been spent on several investments her papa had made just before he became ill. In short, they’d lost everything.
Stephaney groaned and rolled her eyes. ‘You don’t need a habit. There is no one here to see you. We are in the middle of nowhere. It’s not as if you are a taking an afternoon canter in Hyde Park.’
‘Go on, Lily. Stephaney is right.’ Annabelle’s eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘If you head over to the hills behind the vicarage there is a lovely view of Etford Park. There will be no one about. And, when you return, we will still have time to look at books.’
Mr Gleeson finished adjusting the saddle and glanced up at the grey sky. ‘I don’t think it’s going to snow until this evening, clouds don’t look right. So, if you hurry, miss, I think you can manage a nice ride. It’s going to be brisk though, make no mistake. Just take care around any thick patches of snow. You never know what’s lying beneath.’
She smiled broadly and nodded. The temptation was too much. ‘Very well, then. But, just a short ride.’
‘Yes. Yes, come along. Up you go.’ Stephaney had dragged over a small wooden crate to help her mount up.
But, no sooner had she positioned herself in the saddle, than she realized her awkward position.
‘Good, Lord. You can see my calves!’ Mr Gleeson blushed and looked away as she reached down and attempted to cover up her legs. ‘No, help me down, Stephaney. I can’t do this.’
The sudden spark of mischief in her sister’s eyes was little warning as Stephaney smacked Dobbins rear, sending her and the wretched horse catapulting towards the open field.
‘Oh!’ She gripped the reigns tight as the animal bolted faster than she had ever assumed it could. So much for being a humble workhorse. Just wait until she got hold of her little sister.
But, within a few minutes, familiarity set in and she found herself getting more comfortable with the horse. The chill afternoon air tingled her cheeks, cold wind rippled up through the layers of petticoats and dress, but the exhilaration of the ride soon warmed her blood.
She’d almost forgotten how much she enjoyed it.
As she came to the crest of a small hill, she pulled back on the reigns a little and brought Dobbin to a stop. Breathless, she reached forward and patted the horse’s neck. Fog billowed from the animal’s nose as she took in the magical view. ‘What do you think, Dobbin? It’s beautiful, isn’t it? Pity there are so few living there who appreciate it.’
Like the majestic, ancient manors of old, Etford Park sat like a monument in the midst of a shallow valley, surrounded by glistening snow-covered gardens and orchards. She’d been to the manor twice since arriving in Speckles Wood and had to admit the grand house was just as magnificent inside.
An icy breeze trickled around her legs and, despite Mr Gleeson’s weather prediction, the first flakes of fresh snow began falling around her.
Forgetting about the increasing cold, she marveled at the powder-like flecks as they floated through the air and landed upon the horse’s mane, until they looked like tiny pearls woven through the long strands of grey hair.
A fine layer of white dusted her green pelisse, making the worn fabric appear finely embroidered and trimmed with lace. She smiled, and for a brief moment, she imagined herself in a very different life – one where fathers didn’t die of disease, and families could stay together and live happily ever after.
But she wasn’t some character in a fairytale. No. Her life was all too real and, somehow, she must learn to live with it.
Fighting back the tears threatening to fall, she glanced up at the manor through the falling snow and gasped. Now, there was a true fairytale scene. She reached out with her gloved hand and cupped the tiny manor in her palm. ‘How wonderful it would be to capture this moment.’
But, nothing lasts forever.
She lowered her hand and brushed away the snow, her thoughts straying to what Captain Holsworthy might be doing at that exact moment. Not that she should care. No doubt he was glad the service was over, and he could return to whatever life he had before.
She gazed at the manor once more and sighed.
Indeed, the captain’s future would be changed forever with the passing of his brother. Now he was the heir to this grand estate. Surely, he would have to be around more to oversee its care.
Oh dear. She hadn’t thought of that.
Imagine him coming and going from the village as he pleased? Dropping in to the vicarage unannounced in the middle of the day then quite rudely scolding those who simply tried to help.
‘Miserable wretch.’ She unhooked her right leg from the lower pommel, stretched it and let out a deep breath.
‘No one I know, I hope?’
‘What?’ She tu
rned sharply at the sound of the male voice, before slipping from her seat, her leg catching upon the head of the saddle. Frantic, she clutched onto the flap of the saddle, her head dangling a few feet from the ground as blood rushed to her head. ‘Bloody hell!’
Her skirts billowed down around her waist and it became impossible to keep any shred of modesty without letting go of the leather stirrup and falling to the ground.
‘Good, God. I didn’t mean to startle you.’
She looked up through a tangle of auburn hair to find the captain leaning over her. Somehow, this all seemed horribly familiar.
‘Yes, you did.’ She pushed away his hand, and struggled to pull herself up, but failed miserably. ‘I didn’t hear you approach. How long were you watching me?’
‘Long enough. You seemed rather preoccupied. Come now, don’t be difficult. Allow me to help you.’
‘It seems to me, each time you help, matters become worse.’ Despite her opposition, his strong arms reached around her shoulder and her thighs as he fairly lifted her from horse and lowered her gently to the ground.
He held her at arms’ length, his critical gaze trailing down along her body, leaving an odd sensation in its wake. ‘Can you stand on your own?’
‘Since I was two years old.’
He scowled and released her, though she did wobble for a few moments. ‘What in blazes are you doing up here in this weather? On your own? And without proper attire?’
Perfect. Of all the people she hadn’t wished to meet.
Annoyed by his arrogance, she brushed down her skirts, took a pin from her hair to restrain an offending lock and gave him a sunny smile. ‘I was riding, naturally.’
His face grew dark, his blue eyes now the color of a stormy ocean. ‘You rode without a groom?’
She bent down and retrieved Dobbins reins. ‘I thought we had already established that? I fear you are repeating yourself, Captain.’
She groaned inwardly. Oh, please. Couldn’t she stop talking before she dug herself into a bigger hole? Though disappearing right now seemed most desirable.
