by Joan Smith
They returned, chatting, to the parlor. “No, I am a widow,” Lucy replied firmly, with a meaningful stare at her aunt, who glared but did not deny it.
Bigelow’s smile stretched to a grin as the full wonder of this state of affairs washed over him. By Jove, a dasher of the first water right on his doorstep. In his house, in fact. A million excuses to be calling on her ten times a day. He soon bethought himself of something better than calling on her.
“I say, I’ve just had an idea,” he announced, jumping to his feet. “Come to Milhaven for lunch.”
“No, really we could not impose on you,” Lucy said politely, but with interest peeping from her eyes.
“But you have no food here. It will take a dog’s age for your servants to get to the village and shop and cook you up something.”
“We planned to eat at the local inn,” Mrs. Percy said.
“You would hate it. The place is full of farmers and cits. Do come home with me. I’d love to have you.”
“Your mother will not be expecting us,” Lucy demurred, yet the offer did not seem inappropriate. She looked to her aunt for guidance.
“She ain’t home,” Bigelow said. “She’s visiting Cousin Morton, and I shall have to eat my mutton alone if you don’t come with me. Dash it, don’t make me eat alone.” He included the aunt in his eager invitation, and as Lucy saw no reluctance there, she accepted for them both.
Within half an hour of arriving at their new house, the ladies were off again in their traveling carriage for lunch with Lord Bigelow. Milhaven, while not touching Chenely in size and magnificence, was a handsome brick residence surrounded by park land. The meal provided was indifferent, as Bigelow usually took lunch with his uncle during his mother’s absence. But it was enjoyable for all that.
He set out to make himself agreeable to the charming young widow and had no little success. Lucy recognized him at once for a fool, but such an amiable one, and so clearly infatuated with her, that the summer promised to be amusing. He would not let them away till he had shown them all over Milhaven, with heavy emphasis on the stables. When they finally left in order to get their own house set to rights before dark, he trotted alongside the carriage with a besotted smile on his face.
After escorting them to their door and promising to see them again very soon, Bigelow took the idea of going to tell his uncle about the mix-up in the tenant’s marital status. No worry clouded his simple mind that Adrian would be anything but as delighted as he was himself at the circumstance.
Avedon was out when his sister returned from Rose Cottage, but they met at tea, and he listened with mixed feelings to her account. He was happy to learn the women were respectable. That they were apparently well-to-do was a matter of indifference to him, though it was what impressed Lady Sara. When Mrs. Percy began to emerge in the tale as “so very charming,” “really quite youthful,” and finally “extremely attractive,” his heart sank.
“How did Tony behave himself?” he asked with foreboding.
“Oh, very polite. Distant, you know. The husband is a captain, by the way, and he must be youngish, which means he bought his commission, so there is clearly money in the family somewhere.”
“If there were real money, they would not be renting up a little cottage; they’d have an estate to go to.”
Lady Sara ignored the comment. “I counted at least six servants, four women and the groom and a footman. Or perhaps he was a butler.”
“Living beyond their means,” Avedon scoffed. “Are they to take Jinny’s milk, by the way?” he asked, wondering if success in that quarter colored his sister’s account.
“No, it does not agree with her, but she wants dairy products and vegetables. I daresay she will be happy for some chickens and eggs as well.”
“You speak as though there was only one woman.”
“The chaperon was there, too. An elderly lady, a respectable dame, certainly. There is nothing to fear there.”
It was at this point that Bigelow sauntered in, smiling from ear to ear in a besotted way that announced he was in love. “Oh, God!” Avedon moaned. “I hope you haven’t been making up to a married woman all afternoon, Tony!”
“No, to a widow,” he answered, “so there is no need to be looking at me in that disparaging way, as if I was a lame nag.”
Avedon jumped to his feet. “Is that Lacey creature back here?”
“Lacey?” Bigelow could hardly remember his former love. “No, you sent her to Tunbridge Wells.”
“What widow has got that imbecilic smirk on your phiz?” Avedon demanded.
“Widow Percy,” he replied promptly. “Mrs. Percy ain’t married at all. That is to say, she was married. The husband’s dead. Ain’t that a stroke of luck, Uncle?”
Avedon looked in alarm to his sister. “Sal, is this true?”
Lady Sara looked alert but not worried. “It cannot be. She said her husband is a captain. I’m sure that is what she said. And the letter, you recall, said, ‘My husband is in the Peninsula with Wellington.’ Might she have meant he is buried in the Peninsula? Oh, dear!”
“That’s the way it is,” Tony informed them, beaming with pleasure at this fortunate stroke.
“Did you not mention her wearing something pink, Sal?” Avedon inquired. “An odd way for a respectable widow to be dressing.”
“She wore a lovely pink lawn gown, which was very inappropriate for travel, now I think of it. Only it is warm today, of course, and that might account for it.”
“The husband’s been dead for years. She ain’t mourning in the least,” Tony assured them.
Lady Sara was never slow to find fault and was soon reassessing her first generous opinion of the ladies. “That was a very lively bonnet I saw perched on the stairpost in the hall, now that I think of it,” she said. “Très gai for a widow. Almost garish, in fact, with a surfeit of primroses.”
“Not so garish as that basket of cherries you had on your head,” Bigelow objected.
“I am not a widow, dear,” Lady Sara pointed out.
Avedon looked from one to the other in consternation. “You have been telling me for the last quarter hour what a stylish dresser she is,” he said accusingly to his sister.
“Stylish for a married lady; garish for a widow,” she explained.
“Surely you haven’t been at Rose Cottage all this time?” Avedon demanded, turning to his nephew. “You left here three hours ago.”
“Of course not, Uncle. I ain’t a complete flat, you know. I took the ladies to Milhaven for lunch.”
The serene smile on Bigelow’s face was the last straw. “You damned cawker!” his uncle exploded. “Dragging a fast widow over to Milhaven, and your mama not even there.”
“I never got her alone for a minute. Mrs. Percy’s chaperon was with us the whole time. A very respectable old dame, dull as ditch water.”
Lady Sara rose and put a restraining hand on his arm. “Oh, my dear Anthony, I tremble to think what your dear mama will say.” The trouble, of course, was that his dear mama would not say a word. She was as big a fool as her son, and with no papa in the house, the pair of them would be easily fleeced.
“She wouldn’t say anything,” Bigelow informed them. “There’s nothing wrong with Mrs. Percy. She’s very nice. They hadn’t a bit of food in the cottage. It was the only thing to do. I’m sorry I hadn’t thought of it sooner, for Pikey didn’t put on much of a spread for us, though she’ll do better another time when I’ve given her warning.”
“There will not be another time,” Avedon said sternly. “If some loose piece of baggage thinks to snap up a title for herself by coming here, she is very much mistaken.”
Bigelow flew to his feet in defense. “Well, if that ain’t just like you, Uncle. Getting astride your high horse and you’ve never so much as cast a glance on her. She’s a jolly nice girl. Tell him, Sal. You saw her. She’s nothing like Mrs. Lacey, if that’s what has you in the boughs.”
His aunt disappointed him. “I remarked a
certain resemblance, now I come to think of it. Something around the eyes ...”
Avedon’s face turned livid. “She’s some kin to Lacey. That wretch sent her sister or cousin here to show me a lesson!”
Bigelow laughed a tinny laugh. “Now do be sensible, Uncle. Mrs. Lacey don’t have a sister, and if she did, she wouldn’t have nice brown eyes like Mrs. Percy. She’d have blue ones. The two are nothing alike, I promise you.”
“She will get her nice brown eyes out of here all the same,” Avedon said firmly. “I won’t put up with another month like the past one, worrying about you. I haven’t cashed her check yet, and I shan’t. I’ll tell her we’ve changed our minds.”
Lady Sara thought of the six servants and the luggage and the traveling carriage. She remembered the dairy and vegetable produce to be sold, and she weighed the matter carefully.
“No, Adrian,” she said sadly. “You sent a letter accepting the offer. That constitutes a contract, you must know. She sent the check in good faith, and if you failed to cash it and start collecting your interest, it is in no way her fault. And in any case, she is not so bad. The sister-in-law appeared sensible. Just keep Tony away from her, and we shall rub along well enough. We shan’t do more than nod to them.”
“And, of course, send down our farm cart every day,” Avedon added snidely.
“That is business, dear. They can make nothing of that.” A troublesome memory of having invited the ladies to her garden party came to pester Lady Sara. But she had also said they would meet before that time. She would take care that they did not meet, to let the ladies know they were being hinted away.
Avedon rarely looked to his family for guidance and did not do so now. He would not cash the check. He would monitor the situation, and if Mrs. Percy proved troublesome, he would dispatch her.
“I don’t want you hanging around Rose Cottage, Tony,” he said severely. A glance at his nephew’s fatuous grin was enough to tell him the words were not even going in one ear and out the other. They were sailing high over his head. “Do you hear me? Not one penny of the five hundred rent do you see if I hear of their being at Milhaven again.”
“Of course, Uncle.”
Bigelow had already set up a rendezvous for the next morning at Rose Cottage and had every intention of returning that evening on his way home from dinner with Avedon as well. He knew of old that pretending to agree with his uncle was the best way, and he explained calmly, “I was only making them welcome. I have no further occasion to call.”
“See that you don’t, then,” Avedon warned.
A servant appeared at the door with a silver tray. “Oh, they have brought a fresh pot of tea for you, Tony. How nice,” Lady Sara exclaimed. Her sharp eyes observed that he had brought fresh cake as well, and she reached for a slice before turning to her brother. “Tell me, Adrian dear, did you happen to mention to Lord Severn that John is interested in that archdeacon’s position we were speaking of?”
The subject of the Percys was dropped, and Avedon turned his attention from one troublesome relative to the other. He thought he could be a happy man if it were not for family.
Chapter Four
While the Percy ladies were enjoying lunch at Milhaven, their well-trained servants made all comfortable at home. The ladies’ luggage was unpacked, the backhouse boy was sent to the village to order supplies, and they returned to an orderly household. Cook informed them that they might have fish, fowl, or red meat for dinner, for she had stocked them all. The iceman had heard of their arrival and had filled the icehouse for her, which Cook took as a pretty compliment to herself.
Dinner was chosen, and soon Mrs. Percy had steered Lucy out to the derelict garden to begin making plans. “We must hire a couple of local gardeners. We shall want this grass scythed and the rabbits dispatched. I think the greenery on that wall wants thinning. I shall have the toadflax removed but leave the ivy. Or do you like the pink flowers of the toadflax, Lucy?”
“You’re the gardener, Auntie. Do as you wish,” Lucy said, and strolled on down to the rear of the garden. “Oh, look, there’s a pond here, with frogs!” Her aunt hastened forward to see it.
“An artificial pond! This must have been lovely once upon a time.”
It was far from lovely now. What could be seen of the water was an indeterminate blackish-green color, so overgrown with lily pads and sedge that it resembled a swamp. The surface was frequently disturbed by frogs. Mrs. Percy was thrilled to have so much to do in the garden. Other treats were discovered as well. A wrought iron table and chairs were completely buried in nettles. They would require a good cleaning and a new coat of paint.
“This will be a lovely spot to sit and read in the afternoons after we have the place tamed,” Mrs. Percy said. “I wonder how much of this space is ours? There is no fence at the back, but only that row of thorn bushes. We could put in a vegetable garden, for this land is going to waste.”
“It seems a shame not to,” Lucy agreed. “Papa planted something in every corner that was not used for grazing. I don’t see any cows nearby.”
“We passed a lovely herd on our way to Milhaven. That would be Chenely’s farm. Lady Sara said all the land hereabouts belongs to her brother.”
Lucy’s eyes lifted toward the stone mansion on the hill. She was curious to meet Lord Avedon. “The countryside is beautiful for riding,” she mentioned. “I should have brought my mount with me from London.”
“Send for it,” Mrs. Percy suggested. Her sharp eyes had observed the change in Lucy since arriving in Kent. The bloom was returning to her cheeks, and her eyes were losing that dull look. The best way to put Pewter out of her mind was to let her socialize with respectable people. And Bigelow was eminently respectable, even if he was a fribble. “Lord Bigelow will point out where you may ride,” she mentioned.
Lucy gave her a laughing look. “Now don’t go imagining a match in that quarter, Auntie. He is a mere babe in arms. I hope he does not prove too clinging.”
“We’ll see a deal of that long drink of water if I know anything. I am curious to meet Lord Avedon. I wonder if he has any younger brothers....”
Lucy gave her a knowing look. “For me to marry, you mean? Let my poor heart recover first,” she said, but in no serious way. Her heart, she knew, was already on the mend. It was her wounded pride that still rankled, and Bigelow’s attention was a balm to it
Mrs. Percy immediately dropped the subject. “Lady Sara lives in Hampshire. I was just thinking, Lucy, as her husband is a clergyman, he very likely knows your uncle Norris.”
“Possibly, but he cannot know Bishop Norris is any kin to me. Let us not mention it. Uncle knows we are visiting incognito and will not say anything to betray us.”
Mrs. Percy rather regretted she could not bring such a prominent relative forward to impress Lady Sara but was soon diverted back to her garden.
Bigelow dropped in that evening after taking dinner with Avedon. Chenely was his second home, and he kept a full set of clothes there. He had changed for dinner, and it was an extremely elegant gentleman who was shown into their parlor at eight-thirty in a black jacket and pantaloons.
“You put us to the blush, sir!” Lucy exclaimed. “We did not change for dinner, as we were dining alone, and the servants are so busy today settling us in.”
Bigelow bowed and said, in one of his more foolish utterances, “Clothes may make the man, but they are not necessary for a lady. That is to say—I mean—dash it, Mrs. Percy, you look charming, as usual.”
He was shown a chair, and under the chaperon’s deft questioning, he was led to reveal all the circumstances of his family. Of the house of Avedon there remained only his mother, Lady Bigelow; Aunt Sally, the deacon’s wife; and Uncle Adrian, who had no brothers. This was sad news. No, the earl was not married. A crusty old devil that no one in her right mind would have, if they wanted the truth, and the worst nipcheese in the kingdom.
Lucy envisaged an elderly miser with a hunched back and foul temper. He must be
considerably older than Lady Sara.
Lady Sara’s daughter, Prissy, was mentioned, along with the fact that she was a great butter-toothed blob of a girl, the dead image of her mama, only even uglier. She would be here with Aunt Sal now if she wasn’t needed at home to look after the family. Which was a blessing for him, if they wanted the truth, for Aunt Sal meant to saddle him with the girl. Keeping her out of sight was the best way to hatch a match, which might just give them some idea what an antidote she was.
The name Cousin Morton arose often. He was Mama’s cousin, a bachelor in very good financial circumstances, and a great fellow. Lucy’s interest was piqued till she learned he resided some miles distant.
All this was interesting to hear, but when it was all told, and he began to tell them the same things again, the ladies found their caller wearying. Subtle hints such as yawns proved ineffective in getting Bigelow to vacate his chair. When the ladies’ jaws began to ache from yawning, it was necessary for Mrs. Percy to declare herself fagged from the trip, and remind Lucy that she was still recuperating and should not stay up too late.
This did get through to Bigelow, and he leapt to his feet as if he had been prodded with a hot poker. “I am the most selfish beast alive,” he apologized. “Just because I have been having the most wonderful evening of my life is no reason to keep you ladies up. I shall pop around tomorrow morning to see if there is anything I can do for you,” he warned.
“Oh, no! You need not put yourself to the bother,” Lucy said swiftly.
“It will be my pleasure, Mrs. Percy. There’s bound to be a leak or a loose window or a door unhinged. The place is falling apart.”
“Now you tell us, after gouging us five hundred pounds!” she teased.
“By Jove, I’ll ask my uncle to cut your rent.”
Lucy did not think it wise to disturb the miser and said that was not necessary. As she led him to the door, she said, “What we are concerned about, however, is the extent of the land that goes with the building. Is it only the hundred feet or so within the wall of thorn bushes?”
