by Karen Tuft
She moved to the four-poster bed and ran her hand along the slightly faded counterpane and then wandered over to the writing desk. The inkwell was full, the quills sharpened, the blotter neat and ready for use, but there was nothing here that made the room uniquely William’s beyond the painting. Disappointed, she had said as much to Mrs. Holly.
“He’s been gone from us for so long, now, milady,” Mrs. Holly said. “We always kept the room as it was while Lady Farleigh was alive, God rest her soul, but afterward—well, I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, but we were ordered to box Master William’s personal items up and store them in the attic, along with Lady Farleigh’s. Except—” She stopped abruptly.
“Yes?”
“Nothing. One small item, that’s all. I was going to have one thing for Master William to come home to, should he ever feel inclined, now, wasn’t I? And he did come home, and it does our hearts good to see him, handsome, worthy man that he’s become, and to see what a lovely bride he’s bringing to be mistress here.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Holly. It’s very kind of you to say so.”
Louisa heard a noise outside the room, a scuffling sound, and glanced toward the door, trying to figure out what it might be, hoping it wasn’t vermin. Not an appealing thought, but the house was in need of attention—
“Don’t you worry, milady; that’s just Mary. She’s a sweet but slow girl, is our Mary. She works as a scullery maid so her mother can keep a close eye on her. Not that she gets into trouble, mind,” Mrs. Holly hastily added. “But she’s so trusting, she’s bound to be taken advantage of by those who would be so inclined.”
Which, Louisa took to understand, meant something of the sort had happened before.
“She busies herself about the place when she’s not doing chores,” Mrs. Holly continued. “Likes to roam about and hide in rooms and the attic and such. We’re all fond of the girl, and William was always kind to her. Such a good lad.” She smiled at some long-ago memory.
The scuffling stopped eventually, the afternoon turned to evening, and before Louisa knew it, it was time to dress for supper. She and Alex were to discuss everything they had learned during supper and strategize for tomorrow. Louisa had gleaned quite a bit from Mrs. Holly, but the housekeeper had stayed so close to Louisa all afternoon that she hadn’t had the opportunity to speak to Mrs. Brill or the little maid, Sally. And she’d failed to learn anything about the mysterious woman, other than what Mary had blurted out when they’d first arrived. She wanted to talk further with Mary . . . but the girl had vanished, and Louisa hadn’t seen her since.
She would not share William—or any husband, for that matter—with another woman. If he was the kind of gentleman who saw marriage as a duty with pleasure found elsewhere, he was not for her. But what other reason could there be for William to have been with an attractive, unknown woman? And why else would Mary have called Louisa “the real one” and begun to mention someone else, only to be stopped by the others?
Nothing she had learned so far had allayed her fears about this unknown woman. She hoped tomorrow provided the answers she needed and hoped she was sufficiently prepared for the answers, especially if they were ones she didn’t want to hear.
Chapter 13
Louisa and Alex decided at supper that they would tour the estate grounds together. So the following morning, bright and early, Samuel met them outside with two saddled horses, as arranged.
“Sorry the sidesaddle isn’t as up to snuff as ye’re used to, melady,” Samuel said after greeting them both. “The former viscountess didn’t use it much at the end, and then there weren’t no need.” He looked down at his feet.
“I’m sure it will be fine,” Louisa replied. “Did she use to ride a lot before then?”
“Oh, here and there, in the early days. After our William—er, the current viscount—were born, she stopped for the most part. O’ course, the viscount were away in Town a good share o’ the time, and she preferred to spend time with the baby, like any good ma.” He paused and scratched at his chin. “Mostly got out o’ the habit, I’d say.”
He wasn’t telling her everything, but she didn’t press him for details. He assisted her into the saddle while Alex mounted his own horse.
“Ye be visiting the village, then?” Samuel asked.
“No,” Alex replied. “We’ve decided to tour the estate.”
Samuel looked alarmed before quickly smoothing his features and saying, “T’ain’t much to see on the estate these days, I’m afraid. Only a bit o’ the farmland is bein’ used at present. Matthew will tell ye that several good tenants up and left after Lady Farleigh passed on. Now, the village, that’s a lively place, and if I were going wid ye, I’d suggest a visit to the George and Dragon, and there’s a shop on the corner makes the best apple tarts—”
“Oh, there you are!” A harried-looking Mrs. Holly rushed toward them, her skirts and apron blowing about her. “I didn’t realize you’d finished your breakfast,” she said, breathing quickly from her exertion. “Mrs. Brill just told me. I had thought we’d be spending time today going through the inventory, and Mrs. Brill said she’d love to have you tour the kitchen in detail.”
Matthew came loping around the corner of the building. “Lord Halford, if you have some time, I’d like to show you the records for the estate in more detail. What do you say?”
Louisa and Alex shared a glance. It was patently obvious the others were doing everything they could to keep them from exploring the grounds; they hadn’t even flinched yesterday when Alex had toured the stable yard and Louisa had been shown the manor house. But now they were scrambling to keep her and Alex occupied and away from the estate grounds, which only convinced Louisa that she and Alex were on the right track.
“Thank you, Mrs. Holly,” Louisa replied. “I would enjoy doing both of those things. But it’s a lovely day, and the estate is beckoning me. I think Halford and I will use it to our advantage. Perhaps the two of you can set aside some time for us this afternoon after tea.”
“Any objections?” Alex said, looking at each of them with a raised eyebrow that meant he had better not hear any.
“No, milord,” Mrs. Holly said. She shot a look at Matthew.
Matthew took a step forward, picking up on her cue. “I’d like to go with you, then, if I may,” he said. “I don’t wish to speak out of turn, mind you, but as groundskeeper, I know the land better than anyone here about, shortcuts and such.” He waited for a reply, looking up at Alex meekly, a look Louisa suspected he most likely developed over years of dealing with the former viscount. She’d gotten the impression earlier that Matthew was smarter than most people gave him credit for. Except for William, that is, who had recognized intelligence in him and had entrusted him to oversee his land as steward . . .
“Very well,” Alex said with a bored sigh reserved for exclusive use by noblemen. “Get your horse. But be quick about it.”
Samuel and Matthew both dashed to the stable to saddle up a horse.
“Are you sure you’re up to something quite so vigorous after your long journey from London yesterday, milady?” Mrs. Holly asked, obviously unwilling to simply capitulate.
“Quite sure,” Louisa replied.
“Thank you, Mrs. Holly,” Alex added firmly.
She curtsied deeply and scurried off to the house.
“I believe we’re finally onto something,” he whispered when Mrs. Holly was out of earshot.
“Yes,” Louisa said.
Matthew was approaching them on horseback now while Samuel stayed back by the stable doors. “I thought we’d start by meeting some of the tenants still working on the home farm,” Matthew said. He pointed south. “This way.”
“I believe we’ll go north,” Alex said.
“But—”
“North,” Alex said again.
Matthew slumped in his saddle. “Very well, milord. North it is.”
They headed down a small lane that led from the courtyard at the front of the h
ouse around one side of the stable and continued on in a northerly direction. It was considerably overgrown, but it appeared that a conveyance of some kind had recently used it, based on the wheel marks and freshly crushed plants that were visible.
The horses traveled at a walk, with Alex taking the lead and Matthew and Louisa following closely behind. It was unseasonably warm, and the heat of the sun filtered through the trees that grew on either side of the lane and down onto Louisa’s shoulders. The farther north they went, the quieter Matthew became. He responded politely to Alex’s questions along the way, but his answers became shorter and shorter.
After what seemed like forever but was probably no more than fifteen minutes, they rounded a corner that took them to the right. The foliage had blocked their view, but now, in the distance, Louisa could see a cottage. It wasn’t a large place, but it was of finer construction than the typical tenant’s cottage, and its appearance made Louisa’s heart race and her hands tremble. They were close to getting the answers they’d come to Farleigh Manor to get; she could feel it.
Alex gave his horse a nudge forward, and Matthew shot a somber look at Louisa, confirming her suspicions. She urged her own horse forward until she was riding next to Alex. They were nearly to the cottage, and Louisa desperately wished to go right on past and continue down the lane and away from the inevitable truth of the mystery woman. It would take them to, to . . . who knew where . . . But Louisa didn’t care. She wanted to leave. Now that the truth was before her, she didn’t want to know—
The door opened, and a woman who appeared to be in her early thirties stepped outside onto the threshold.
An attractive woman.
Louisa gasped—and everything went black.
“Louisa!” she heard someone call from far away.
Then there were arms around her, arms that lifted her from the horse, that carried her out of the heat and into coolness. Blessed darkness . . .
She opened her eyes and blinked several times to bring the world back into focus. She was reclining on a sofa, and Alex was kneeling in front of her. Matthew stood behind him, his eyebrows drawn together in concern.
“What happened?” she asked. She felt a bit queasy, which was odd. She didn’t remember feeling queasy before.
“You fainted,” Alex said gently.
“I never faint,” she replied indignantly.
“You did this time,” Alex said.
As her vision cleared further, she saw another person—the woman—standing off a ways, watching. Watching Louisa’s disgrace.
Louisa squeezed her eyes shut, blocking the woman out. “Who is she?” Louisa asked Alex in a whisper, mortified that whoever she was, she was witnessing all of this.
“There’s time enough for that later,” Alex murmured. “Ah, thank you.” He took a glass of water from a young boy who suddenly appeared out of nowhere and then handed it to Louisa, keeping his hands on the glass until he was sure she wasn’t going to spill it all over herself. “Steady now. Just a few sips to start.”
She sipped the water. It was cool and tasted good. Her mouth was dry, so she took another sip and then another. She handed the glass back to Alex and attempted to sit up, but dizziness forced her to lie back. Her head felt as if it were stuffed with cotton. This wasn’t like her at all.
“I don’t faint; I never faint,” she grumbled. “Have you ever seen me faint?”
Alex chuckled. “Clearly, you’re beginning to feel more like your usual self, Weezy.” He handed her the glass, and she drank more water. “You have been under more strain than usual the past week or two, you know. It was bound to catch up with you sooner or later.”
“Well, it couldn’t have picked a worse time.”
“You gave us a bit of a scare there, Lady Louisa,” Matthew said. “Luckily, your brother has quick reflexes and caught you before you hit the ground. It was quite remarkable, really,” the man continued with a thoughtful look on his face. “Him leaping from his horse like that and catching you as you fell forward off your sidesaddle.”
She covered her eyes with her hand and groaned in embarrassment. The woman was still there, watching, the young boy standing at her side—and when had a little girl joined them?
“I may as well be introduced,” Louisa muttered. She lowered her hand from her eyes and sat up, slowly moving her feet from the sofa to the floor, and then straightened her skirts. The only way to get through a difficult situation was straightforward—at least, it was in this case. She couldn’t exactly sneak out of the room and return to the manor house at this point.
Matthew cleared his throat, looking resigned. “Lord Halford, Lady Louisa, may I present . . .” He paused as if searching for the right words, which was odd. “Allow me to present Miss Jane Purnell and her children, Peter and Daisy.”
The woman curtsied, as did the little girl. The boy bowed stiffly. “How do you, your lordship, your ladyship,” the woman said.
She was Miss Purnell. She had two children, but she was a miss. Louisa shut her eyes again, in defeat this time. She must be William’s mistress after all, but Louisa never in her wildest thoughts expected there would be children—
“Er,” Matthew said. “There is more that needs to be explained.”
“Then please do so, man. Don’t leave us in suspense,” Alex drawled. He folded his arms over his chest.
Louisa hunted with unsteady hands through the pocket of her dress for a handkerchief.
Matthew looked at the floor as if for inspiration before turning to look at the woman—Miss Purnell.
Alex began tapping his foot. Loudly.
Matthew heaved out a large breath.
“Never mind, Matthew,” the woman said. “I can speak for myself, if they’ll permit me.”
Alex gestured for her to do so.
Miss Purnell crouched down by the children. “Peter, will you please take Daisy out into the garden? Perhaps you can help her pick flowers to give our guests.”
“Yes, Mama.” Peter took little Daisy by the hand and led her from the room.
Louisa heard a door at the back of the cottage open and close.
Miss Purnell stood straight and looked directly at Louisa. “Until recently, I was Mrs. William Barlow. Senior,” she quickly added. “Or at least I thought I was. Only last week, I received word that my marriage was a fraud and that, as a result, my children are illegitimate and we are destitute. When Lord Farleigh—the current Lord Farleigh, that is—learned of our situation, he offered this house to us.”
“I don’t understand,” Louisa said. Perhaps she was still suffering ill effects from the fainting spell, but the woman’s words made no sense.
“Allow me to put some tea on,” Miss Purnell replied. “It is a story that will take some time to tell.”
* * *
William braced himself to call upon Louisa the afternoon following his encounter with Lord Anthony. Perhaps it had been a good thing he hadn’t seen her and that she’d had time to herself—time away from him, to be more precise. He’d reflected at length, once again, upon their conversation Sunday night, specifically his ineptitude at sharing himself with her. How frustrating he must have been, and must be, to her.
And how presumptuous he had been with her. He’d had the temerity to suggest at their initial meeting that she could not have become attached to Lord Kerridge after a mere two weeks’ time. He had been wrong on that score, because he’d known Louisa for an equally short amount of time, and at some point during the past two days, he had realized he was in love with her. Well, most assuredly, he was. He’d been struck speechless by her the moment he’d laid eyes on her and had been enchanted by her ever since. She was bright and candid and vulnerable and strong—how could William not have fallen in love with her?
He’d brought the little family portrait with him to London this time. He’d looked at it several times over the past two days and studied it again now. There he was just older than Peter, standing next to his mother, who was seated. His father s
tood behind them both. The artist had managed to capture the indiscernible expression his father had always worn.
William’s mother sat gazing serenely on, her back straight, the beautiful viscountess she’d always been readily apparent, albeit William had only ever thought of her as his loving mama. Age and experience did much to expand one’s perspective. Perhaps, when this painting was done, his mother had still had hope for her marriage. Perhaps not. William did not know.
William looked beyond the portrait to the blue sky showing through the window, then shook his head. It was time to call on Louisa again, apologize for his disappointing lack of openness, and proceed with the marriage plans. He washed and dressed sensibly once again, taking care as he shaved so as not to irritate the swelling and bruise that had formed on his jaw after its encounter with Lord Anthony’s fist yesterday at Gentleman Jackson’s. Louisa’s brother had been able to land a few heavy blows in what was supposed to have been a friendly bout of boxing for the sake of exercise. William’s jaw hurt like the very devil today, as did a couple of ribs.
He called for his horse to be readied and rode to Ashworth House, knotted up inside with guilt and shame and desperation—and a love he’d not expected to find.
Too soon, William reached his destination, lifted the knocker, and braced himself. For what? Silence? Silence was what he was used to, and he was comfortable with it. Louisa was not a silent person by nature, however. It was one of the things he loved most about her.
Words, then. He braced himself for more words, potentially with the same volatile delivery he’d received at Vauxhall. He would welcome her words and give her the freedom to share them and not keep her feelings to herself. He would not be responsible for destroying what was uniquely her, as his father had done to his mother.
Gibbs opened the door. “My lord,” the butler said in greeting, giving no indication of what William could expect to face once inside.
