“That could be funny, but she’s daft enough to believe it, so it’s worth a try. We’ll need to find a new hideyhole though, if’n we can.”
They stayed hidden as the stonemason walked around the place, poking at the stone, muttering about the state of the walls, and finally, breathed a sigh of relief when he went away, still muttering, to start arranging the delivery of the necessary stone.
The next few weeks saw the Dower House a hive of activity, as the stolen goods stored in its rooms were removed – either into its deepest cellars, or to Lady Fremont’s old Norman Tower, all carefully arranged so as not to coincide with the stonemason’s visits, or reveal anything to him. Edmund saw no hint of what went on, beyond the stonemason’s work.
~~~~~
Maria had taken to rising early – far earlier than the Dowager ever did – eating her breakfast in peace, then slipping from the house to her cottage, to the woods, to anywhere she could escape to. She had also been, bit by bit, searching through the fairly extensive library at Myniard House, which Edmund almost never used. It had proven a treasure trove.
Whenever she found anything useful, she carried it with her, at the next possible chance, so that her little cottage now boasted a growing shelf of books on all aspects of the science of healing. Today, she had discovered the best treasure yet – an ancient Herbal, most likely centuries old. She cradled it against her as she slipped from the house through the kitchen door.
The cook, and the kitchen maids, all studiously ignored her, looking away, so that, if asked, they could say that they had not seen her. She dearly wished that the servants would actively help her, but she understood their fear of the Dowager, and appreciated the small things they did for her.
The early sun was warm, even though the year was turning, and the view was breath-taking, where the colour of the trees was changing, painting the landscape in shades of gold, orange, and red. Once she was some distance from the house, she began to relax, and enjoy the walk.
If you had asked her, a year before, if she would ever enjoy simply being in the outdoors, she would have looked at you as if you were quite mad – now, she revelled in the simple peace of being away from the house.
Once at the cottage, she placed the Herbal with the other books, and considered what to do next with her day. With winter coming, she had been building up a stock of remedies for the sniffles and ills that came with the cold. Her stock of dried herbs was growing, as was the selection of bottled tinctures arrayed on her shelves.
On her work table, she found a pile of freshly picked plants, and a stack of small bottles. She had no idea who had left them for her – but once the servants and the farmers had come to realise what she did here, this happened regularly – people left her things that she needed. And, more and more, they came cautiously to the cottage, and asked her help with the ailments of their families. It pleased her – gave her purpose in her day.
She sent a prayer in thanks for the existence of the old Nanny who had care for her as a child, who had nurtured her interest in these things. Then, she had not cared for the outdoors, or the dirt and mess, but she had cared for the plants that it provided, and what could be done with them. Nerissa had not been the only one to steal off with Kevin’s books and teach herself Latin.
The idea that something so simple as a plant, treated correctly, could cure the ailments which plagued people was endlessly fascinating – and had now become the thing that kept her from going completely mad. The time she had been in London had cost her considerably, in terms of the chance to build up her stock of plants – but the gifts of the common people had helped to balance that out.
Now, she set herself to work for the day, to forget, for a while, that Myniard House existed, or that her marriage was miserable.
~~~~~
The weeks passed, and Maria fell back into the miserable pattern of Myniard House – spending her days outdoors, wandering Myniard Park, or in the cottage, preparing simples, then enduring the evening of being criticised for anything and everything, before sleeping – cold and alone, most of the time.
Occasionally, the Dowager would invite someone of significance in the area to dinner, and expected Maria to perform, to her specification, as the quiet and obedient wife. For the sake of peace, Maria did so – but it left her angry, and ever more unhappy. She dreaded the coming winter, in some ways for, with the cold and snow, she would be less able to escape the house.
As November came to a close, the Dowager announced, one evening, that she had invited Lord and Lady Alderwood, and their daughter, Lady Millicent, to dinner the following day. Maria smiled and nodded, stood calmly whilst informed of how she would dress, and how she would behave, then, as usual retired early. The dinner would be unbearable – she knew that immediately, for Lady Millicent Stumbleford had been the Dowager’s preference for becoming Edmund’s wife.
She would cope. But it would be difficult. The day went by far too fast, and she returned to the house early to ready herself. As she washed the dirt and the dust of herbs from under her fingernails, she stopped a moment, staring at herself in the mirror – where had the acknowledged beauty gone? Where was the girl who had looked down on her sister’s tomboy pursuits, and prided herself on her immaculate presentation?
That woman no longer existed. And, Maria thought, that was, for all the pain that had brought it about, a good thing – she thought that her understanding of the world was far better now. She shook the thoughts aside, and focused on her preparations.
Annie assisted her to dress – in the dress that the Dowager had dictated that she wear, and did her hair, as the Dowager had required – up, and looking tidy, but not overly elaborate. The end result was a plain woman, with little to recommend her but the elegant shape of her face, and the line of her neck, which no amount of dowdy dressing could disguise.
She sighed, thanked Annie for her efforts, and went downstairs, steeling herself for the inevitable discomfort of the evening. At least the Dowager would not outright disparage her to her face in front of guests.
In the parlour, the Dowager was waiting. Edmund sat in his preferred chair by the fire, but the Dowager stood, looking imperious, and glared at Maria, examining her carefully, obviously looking for something to criticise. Maria forced a smile to her face, and pretended that this was just another friendly social occasion, similar to those she had experienced in London.
“Good evening Lady Granville. I trust that your day went well?”
The Dowager twisted her lips for a moment, before deigning to answer.
“As well as can be expected, with all of the incompetents that I must deal with.”
Her tone implied that Maria was included in that group.
At that moment, Maria was saved from the need to converse further by the sound of a knock on the door, soon followed by Thompson showing the guests into the room. The Dowager’s whole demeanour changed, in an instant. A broad smile appeared on her face, and she went forward to greet the visitors.
“My dear Lord and Lady Alderwood, so nice to see you again! And Lady Millicent, you do look well. Come, please be seated, and partake of something to drink before dinner.”
Lady Millicent, Maria thought, did not look well at all. As she always did, she looked pasty faced, a little frail and nervous, and as if she would fade into the background if she could. Her dress was three years out of date, and better suited to a younger girl than her. The girl almost never spoke in company, except to agree with something said to her. She did not speak now.
“So good to be here again, Lady Granville, so good – isn’t it, my dear?”
It was unclear whether Lord Alderwood referred to his wife or daughter, but both nodded sycophantically at the question. The man’s voice boomed, echoing in the room, and he seemed overly cheerful. Maria stepped forward beside Edmund, and greeted them in turn. Lord Alderwood’s greeting to her was cold, barely polite – it had been ever so, since she had arrived here – he, like the Dowager, had always hoped that Edmund would marry
his daughter.
Edmund simply looked embarrassed, as he always did with the Alderwoods – as she suspected his mother intended that he feel. The evening was long, and unpleasant for everyone, it seemed – everyone except the Dowager, and Lord Alderwood.
Chapter Seven
The air was cold as Maria walked along the lane that ran from near the home farm to the gatekeeper’s cottage. With December had come the true chill of winter setting in, and her daily walks were far less pleasant now. Still, the basket on her arm contained quite a few plants that she would need for the winter’s possets and tonics.
This lane was a place where certain plants grew, sheltered from the weather by the hedges along its side, and she walked here regularly. She bent to pick more plants, careful not to crush the leaves, and, when she stood again, she found herself observed.
“Good day to you, my Lady. I must assume that you are the new Lady Granville. Allow me to be impertinent enough to introduce myself.” He bowed, with some elegance, smiling. “I am Lewis Maddox, your gatekeeper’s son. As a child, your husband was my friend, although I am far beneath his station. I have been looking forward to meeting the woman who captured his heart.”
Maria was somewhat startled, having rarely conversed with a man who had not been formally introduced to her. But then, this was not a circumstance with any similarity to the drawing rooms of society. She decided to be gracious, curious about this man who had known Edmund for so long.
“I see. Yes, I am Lady Granville. I have met your parents, but… I have not seen you before?”
“I am a soldier, my Lady, and was amongst the last to leave France after the war ended. I have remained in the military, as it seems a good career for me. I am here for some weeks to see my family, and then I will be gone again.”
“I see. Well, I wish you well in your career. But I must be on my way now. Good day to you.”
She turned, returning the way she had come, a little uncomfortable, for she had never had such a conversation before, with a man she had never met, and a commoner as well. She was glad that he simply bowed again and wished her good day, and did not pursue the conversation further. He was a good-looking man, and had obviously not been injured in the war, unlike so many other men. At least he had been polite.
It intrigued her to think that Edmund had had a commoner as a childhood friend – she could not imagine the Dowager approving, so perhaps they had been circumspect about it. Once she reached her cottage, and set to work dealing with the plants she had picked, the incident slid from her thoughts, disregarded as unimportant.
~~~~~
Edmund rode out to the Dower House, as he regularly did. The first serious snow of the year lay on the ground around him, and he worried that the work would have to stop until winter was done. His worries were proved valid when he reached the building.
“Good day to you my Lord. I believe that I’ve made enough progress for the old House to be safe and snug for the winter – I’ve boarded up the broken windows, and repaired enough of the stone that the walls are all whole. I even, as you suggested, got a thatcher to do some temporary repairs on the roof. It will be good until the spring – for, as I’m sure you expected, I can’t keep working in the snow.”
Edmund nodded, drawing out a heavy purse to pay the man for his work so far. Much as he hated the delay, he knew that it was inevitable – he could not expect the man to freeze himself to death, trying to work in snow, on icy stone.
“Yes, I did expect this – and I thank you for the work you’ve done – it’s good progress, and I look forward to seeing it continue come spring.” He held out the purse, which the man accepted with alacrity. “You’ll find that contains what we agreed on, for the work so far, and an amount to pay the thatcher, plus a little extra for you, and your family, to enjoy the Christmas season.”
“My thanks, my Lord. You are far more generous than most I have worked for.”
The stonemason gathered up his tools, climbed onto his gig, and drove away as Edmund wandered around the Dower House, imagining what it would look like, when finally restored to its former state.
From the edge of the nearby woods, a man watched him, and nodded in satisfaction when Edmund finally swung onto his horse and spoke, as if to the house.
“I will see you fully restored yet, and my mother living here. However long it takes, it will be done.”
Edmund’s voice echoed in the icy stillness, accompanied only by the drip of melting snow as it fell from the tree branches. He turned the horse, and rode back towards Myniard House. He had much to do – a hunt was arranged for a few days hence, his last chance to enjoy an energetic ride about the countryside with others of like mind, before the winter closed in completely.
The watcher in the woods rubbed his hands together, and also turned away.
~~~~~
“It’s all closed up ‘til spring. T’ stonemason’s gone, and ‘is lordship won’t be back ‘til then either. So we’re good t’ sneak ourselves in and use it f’ storin’ stuff agin, until t’ end o’ winter.”
“Good. T’ old tower’s cellars are fit t’ burstin’. We can start t’ move things t’morra, ‘less’n it snows.”
The two men strode through the trees, returning to their horses, and rode off, well pleased with their day.
~~~~~
Maria walked down the lane again, carefully studying the hedges and the sheltered spots below them.
She was looking for any last plants which had survived the bite of the snow. This would be her last chance to walk here, and gather herbs, until the end of winter. The chill soaked into her, even through her warm clothes, and she decided to call in at the gatekeeper’s cottage, just to take the chance to get warm a little, before returning to her cottage, and then to Myniard House.
The gatekeeper was older, and Fiona, his second wife, much younger than he. She was a pleasant enough woman, but prone to gossip and, Maria suspected, desirous of improving her social status at any opportunity. Her meeting on this lane, some days before, came back to her. The man she had met – Lewis, wasn’t it? – must be the child of the gatekeeper’s first wife, for he seemed far too old to be Fiona’s child, though she might well have raised him from the age of ten or so.
As she approached the cottage, she saw Fiona in the garden, and went towards her.
“Good afternoon, Fiona.”
The woman looked up, startled, then smiled broadly.
“Good afternoon, my Lady. Looks like you and I have the same idea – to get the last of the growing things gathered, before the snow shrivels them.”
“Exactly. The cold has really begun for this year – not that it was very warm at all, even in summer!”
“It has, it has. But, I’ve finished this now. Come in out of the cold a bit.” She paused, thinking, then went on, “Do you like cats, my Lady? For we’ve kittens in the shed here, if you’d like to see them, and it’s warm in there.”
“I do most definitely like cats – even if they shed on my clothes. There is just something about them, all warm and purring, that is hard to dislike.”
“Then come and see.”
Fiona led her to the shed that provided cover for their single cow, and storage for hay, and whatever else they needed to put aside. The space was dim, and Maria’s eyes struggled to adjust after the glare off the snow outside. As she stood, appreciating the warmth, waiting for her eyes to adapt, a voice came to her.
“Well met again, my Lady. I would not have expected to see you here.”
It was Lewis, the man she had met on the lane. He sounded amused, and far too familiar in manner for her liking.
“Oh, so you’ve met my stepson, my Lady? How did that happen?”
Maria sensed Fiona’s interest sharpen at the faint hint of possible gossip, and huffed a breath in annoyance before speaking, choosing her words with care.
“We met by accident, last week, as I was walking along the lane near here, and exchanged no more than an introduction and a po
lite greeting.”
“And very polite you are – far more so to a commoner than most noble ladies!”
His voice was still filled with amusement, and the implication that she had been inappropriately friendly. Maria did not like it at all. She turned from him, dismissively, focussing on the tangle of kittens in the hay which was piled against one wall.
The mother cat stood, and came to sniff at her, before returning to the kittens. Maria gathered her skirts and crouched down to reach out a gentle fingertip to stroke them. They mewled at her touch, clinging to her finger, and exploring her. So warm, so simple, lives so uncomplicated – would that her own life was so simple!
She had hoped that ignoring Lewis would silence him, but, instead, he stepped closer and spoke again.
“I wish that I had the ability that cats have, to make everyone like me, just by being there.”
How was she to answer that? Fiona watched, absorbing every nuance of every word. Maria had to stop this, now.
“I doubt that any person could achieve the simple likeability of a cat. And how would society go on if they did? It would be most inappropriate. I dislike the idea completely.”
He laughed at her words, and it reminded her just how long it had been since she had experienced a cheerful, bantering conversation with a friend. However inappropriate his manner, his obvious pleasure and interest in her company was flattering, after so long feeling alone, and being subject to the Dowager’s disparagement. But she was a married woman – one who really should not be here, no matter that Fiona was here as well. With a last gentle stroke of the tiny kittens, she rose, gathered up her basket, and turned.
“My thanks for the warmth, and for showing me the kittens, but I must be on my way now – if I walk briskly, it will keep me warm on the way back. Good day to you both.”
She turned, and left, glad to be away from them.
~~~~~
Edmund found himself riding out to the Dower House again, even though the work had stopped. It had become a habit, now, after so many weeks. Seeing the place was soothing, seeing that it had begun to be repaired gave him hope for the future, hope that he might, one day, have the life he had imagined with Maria.
Rescuing the Countess: Sweet and Clean Regency Romance (His Majesty's Hounds Book 13) Page 5
