The Lady And The Military Man_Conquer My Heart

by Penelope Redmont

  They had to pay the mortgage. And the servants. The local merchants must be given some money on account too. She propped her elbow on the table, and rested her chin in her hand.

  What would happen after they'd sold everything that could be sold? She sighed deeply, and dipped her pen in the cheap glass inkwell. The fine silver inkstand she'd used for years had been sold last year.

  Jane forced herself to focus. She wrote the accounts in a fine hand. Concentrating on neatness took her mind away from what she was writing. They had enormous bills. If she allowed herself to think about them, she'd be tempted into hysterics.

  "My lady?"

  Jane looked up. Jones, the elderly butler, had been with the family all his life. That was another worry of course. What would happen to the servants when the family had to give up the Castle?

  "Two ladies to see you — I put them in the drawing room. I said you are at home, if that's all right?"

  "Yes, of course." Jane realized that since she'd come home she had paid no visits. She would have to do better, and pay calls on the nearest neighbors before she left for London on Saturday. She put the account books away, and followed Jones.

  "Mrs. Fenkirk, and Miss Severin," Jones said when he opened the drawing room doors for her.

  The two ladies rose. They curtsied to her, and Jane realized that she didn't know them. She took in a small, red-haired young miss, and a tall older lady with grey hair and an erect posture. The girl smiled slightly but the older woman looked grim.

  They must be her stepsisters' friends. She smiled, and extended her hand. "How kind of you to call. I'm Lady Jane Vernon. Welcome to Kennystowe Castle."

  She seated herself on a straight-backed chair and waited for the two women to sit on the sofa again, then nodded to Jones to bring refreshments. He'd already sent a footman to tell her stepsisters that they had guests. "I'm sorry that we haven't met," she said. "The Countess and Mrs. Canderwin will join us shortly. I've been most remiss in paying calls since I returned — you are new to the county?"

  "It's you we've come to see — privately, ma'am," Mrs. Fenkirk said. She compressed her lips, and stared down at her hands.

  Privately? "Well… Then I'm honored." Jane smiled at the younger woman, the girl couldn't be above 20. She was well dressed, but certainly not in the first stare of fashion. Jane kept her face pleasant, and forced herself not to sigh. Who were these ladies? She hoped that they weren't distant relatives, who'd called in hope of money. "We'll wait until the tea arrives, then you must tell me how I may assist you."

  Jones returned, with two footmen to carry the trays. Jane's eyebrows lifted when she saw the tea and the cakes. Where on earth had Jones found both tea, and cakes as well? She'd brought a large hamper from London — but Edie had ensured that most of the contents were given to the servants.

  Blinking sudden moisture from her eyes, Jane realized that the tea and cakes were from the hamper. She accompanied Jones to the drawing room doors after he'd bowed to the ladies, whispering to him that that the guests wished to speak with her privately. Her sisters would be agog. Then she returned to the table, and focused on pouring tea.

  When she'd handed cups to her guests, and they'd commented on the fine weather, she waited expectantly.

  "There is no easy way to say this," Mrs Fenkirk said. She bit her lip. Then she cleared her throat.

  Jane saw that the young girl had turned pale. "Good heavens… whatever is the matter?"

  "My lady, you are acquainted with Major Grove?"

  "I am acquainted with him, certainly."

  "And you're employed by Lady Delmere, to bring out young ladies?"

  Jane nodded. "Employed yes, but I'm now her estate secretary."

  "And Lady Delmere is Mrs. Grove's sister."

  Where was this headed? Major Grove… Inwardly Jane groaned. Mrs. Grove's husband was an unrepentant gambler, hell raiser and womanizer. They lived apart, and rarely spoke. When they met, it was in the solicitor's chambers, where they argued about money. She waited for Mrs. Fenkirk to continue.

  "Babette is Major Grove's natural daughter."

  "I see." Jane's eyes widened.

  "Babette was raised by her mother's sister – her mother Elise died when Babette was three years old. Her aunt died last year, and since then Babette has stayed with me…" Mrs. Fenkirk met Jane's gaze frankly. "I daresay that you will think me a brassy piece, but I would be remiss in my duty to Babette if I didn't try. I want Major Grove to do something for his daughter."

  "I –" Jane's brain shut down. She stared at the girl. This redheaded child certainly had the look of Major Grove. It was very possible that she was his natural daughter. However, she knew Catherine Grove, the major's wife, and she also knew Catherine's temper. She would rather cut off a limb than present this girl to her.

  If Lord and Lady Delmere had been in England, she would be able to take the child to Lady Delmere. But they were traveling, and the last letter Jane had had from her ladyship had been sent from Germany — Baden-Baden. Mrs. Eardley, who was accompanying them, was taking the waters there. The Delmeres intended returning to England in the autumn, in time for the shooting. Lord Delmere was a keen sportsman.

  She realized how long she had been silent and forced herself to speak. "Mrs. Fenkirk — I would be happy to help you… But Lady Delmere isn't in London."

  "You imagine that you would be dismissed if you were to present Babette to the Major and Mrs. Grove?"

  "No, I don't think that for a moment. Lady Delmere is very kind. As is Mrs. Grove, but Mrs. Grove —"

  "Please – take me to London," Miss Severin interposed quickly. "I've no wish to meet my father, it's not necessary after all this time. My mother is dead, so perhaps you could find me some occupation? A paid occupation… As a governess perhaps? Even as a maid in a great house? I'm very willing to work, and I would so like to go to London."

  Babette Severin spoke well, Jane realized.

  Mrs. Fenkirk nodded, realizing that Jane was surprised at Babette's polished accent. "Her aunt sent her away to school. The Severins are French, they fled the revolution. There was some money, enough to look after Babette, but the money has all gone now."

  Babette sat forward on the sofa, and spoke eagerly. "Lady Jane, you're well known for bringing out young ladies – I don't expect you to do that for me. But perhaps you could find something for me? Anything. In London?"

  Jane mentally threw up her hands. "Where are you living?"

  “Some distance, my lady — 50 miles — a journey, but I don’t count that. We're staying in Kennystowe village. We heard that you had come home from London, so I took the opportunity to bring the girl to you. Do you believe that she is the natural child of Major Grove?"

  She had the major's red hair, and sky blue eyes. Jane realized that she had to take Babette — and possibly Mrs. Fenkirk — to London. But she would speak with her sisters first.

  Chapter 2

  On Friday morning Jane supervised the packing of two large paintings. There were unremarkable landscapes, but handsome enough to fetch money. She'd decided take them to London with her, if Major Baker-Cornhill didn't object to having them in the carriage.

  After speaking with Dorinda and Edie on Thursday afternoon, she'd called on Mrs Fenkirk and Babette at the village inn, and offered to take them both London with her.

  Mrs. Fenkirk had said that she would need to place Babette in Lady Jane's charge. "I thank you, but I can't go with her, ma'am. I've an elderly mother who isn't well."

  So it was done. She would take Babette to London. What else could she do?

  It was a dilemma. On the one hand, she wanted time to prepare Mrs. Grove to see her husband's natural daughter. Possibly natural daughter, she amended in her own mind. She winced. A year or five might be long enough.

  On the other hand, she knew Catherine Grove well enough to understand that if she didn't bring the girl to London immediately she knew of her existence, Catherine would be enraged.

  As Dorind
a had pointed out, that there was no real way of preparing Mrs. Grove. Babette would be a shock to her, no matter what Jane did.

  Edie was practical. "If she's Major Grove's daughter, he's done nothing for her, or for her mother, and he should have done something for the child. Some small thing. He owes a debt."

  "He may not even know that he has a daughter," Jane pointed out. She wanted to ask Mrs. Fenkirk whether the major knew, but it wasn't her place to do that.

  Catherine Grove would want to meet the girl. So, she would meet her. At least Mrs. Grove couldn't dismiss Jane from her employment, only Lady Delmere could do that.

  Jane decided that she would write to Lady Delmere immediately to let her know what was happening. She had no doubt that Mrs. Grove would write to her sister too.

  "Please take the paintings to the front hall," Jane asked the two footmen. The paintings didn't weigh much, and Major Baker-Cornhill would just have to accept them in his carriage.

  She looked up to see Mr. Jones approaching. "My lady, it's Mr. Killock come to call."

  Oh no. Edie and Dorinda were out on the estate, and Alex was in York, so of course Killock would call when she was alone. No doubt he was well aware that her stepsisters were not at home. Jane sighed. "Thank you. I'll see him in the drawing room."

  When Mr. Jones opened the drawing room doors for her, she saw Horace Killock standing at the long windows looking out onto the driveway below. He turned, and bowed to her. "Your ladyship."

  "Mr Killock, how good it is to see you. You are well?"

  "Well enough. I'd be a sight more well if Lord Alex would see his way to paying the mortgage on this miserable wreck of a place. Best to let me have it and be done with it — I'll tear it all down. I might get something for the stone, I suppose."

  He sounded avuncular, but his thin voice was a shock in such a tall, large, solidly built, man. Horace Killock looked like a barrel on thin legs. He had no neck and sloping shoulders, offering his tailor many challenges. Bright dark eyes twinkled out from the rolls of fat on his face.

  Jane warned herself that although Killock might look like a harmless inn keeper, he wanted his money, and they didn't have it. Her only card in this game was his desire to wed her, and that card was useless. She indicated that he should sit on the only sofa that remained in the large room, and seated herself in a rickety chair opposite. She braced her shoulders, and clasped her hands tightly in her lap. "Mr. Killock, I'm more sorry than I can say about the mortgage — "

  He didn't sit. Instead, he planted his feet, looming over her. "Two months overdue, Lady Jane. So I'm to forget my money, I suppose. I know you're not paying anyone… Your servants haven't been paid."

  "Please give us a little more time, Mr. Killock. A month. We're selling some good furniture, and —"

  He waved away her words. "That's as may be. We could settle this now, today."

  She forced herself to be calm. He could take them to the law, she knew, but that would take time. They had to find the money.

  He sighed heavily. "You know I'm not interested in the mortgage. Lady Jane — tell me that you'll marry me and we can forget all about the money."

  She shook her head. Not this again…

  He hesitated for a moment, then peered at her suspiciously. "You have a prior attachment, perhaps? I know that young ladies — they read too many novels — can fancy themselves… "in love" — that's the term… But surely you're too old for such nonsense?"

  Did he expect her to answer that? She flushed angrily. "I can assure you that I have no attachment, sir."

  He snorted. "I didn't think so. Then what is it? I have enough money – more than enough to put this horrible place to rights, I promise you, if that's what you want. Although it would be a mistake and a waste of money. Pull it down, that's what I say. What's this I hear about Lord Alex digging holes again?"

  Jane shook her head. King Charles' gold… The wretched treasure. In 1644 the Royalist army was defeated by the Parliamentary army, in company with the Scots, at the Battle of Marston Moor… Just a couple of miles from the Castle.

  Legend had it that King Charles had stayed at the Castle, and ordered his gold buried, in case of defeat. Four thousand Royalist men died, and old stories said that treasure was still here, somewhere on the Castle grounds.

  Jane waved her hand. "Thank you again for your most kind offer Mr. Killock. But you know that I must go to London. As for the treasure – perhaps it exists, who knows?"

  "I know that you should be married rather than rushing around the country at the behest of the nobility. What's the matter with you? You're getting on in years, my girl. Who else do you think would offer for you? I'm fond of plain speaking – so I'll tell you to your face. You're old. Too old to have children. I've children already, I don't want more. You're a fine woman and you're wasting your life. Marry me."

  Jane almost smiled. What a wonderful offer. First he insulted her, then he expected her to agree to his handsome proposal.

  She fisted her hands, determined to keep her temper."I shall never marry, Mr. Killock. I became aware of that long since. But again, I do thank you for your handsome offer. I'm aware that you do me a great honor. Certainly I wish you well and I'm sure you'll find someone much more suitable than I to marry."

  He bit his lower lip, then pursed his lips, staring at her reflectively for a long moment. "Have you ever been with a man?"

  She'd never expected that he'd say anything so outrageous. For a moment, shock froze her. She couldn't speak.

  "Do you know, I'm convinced that that's it. You've never been with a man, so you've no idea what's involved in a marriage. A bit long in the tooth to be a virgin – but I've no objection to it. Virginity is a rare enough, at any age."

  She felt her face heat and swallowed hard. She opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. "I –"

  "Come on now." He stepped forward, and reached a hand to her.

  The chair tumbled when she stood and backed away from him. Surely he didn't intend to touch her?

  He did intend.

  Before she was properly aware of it he'd fastened his arms around her body, pressing her to him tightly.

  She became aware of the rigid strength in his arms. Then of the rough wool of his jacket and the buttons on his waistcoat pressing into her. She struggled for breath, and inhaled his stench of garlic and sour wine.

  "Let me go…" A part of her mind said that this wasn't happening. It couldn't be happening… Horace Killock intended ravishing her in her own home. She wriggled in his arms, but she couldn't draw a full breath, let alone free herself.

  "I –" she said again. She felt faint and she realized that she was about to collapse.

  She couldn't allow that to happen. She blinked rapidly. If she lost consciousness she was sure that he would ravish her. Gathering all her strength she inhaled as much air as she could manage, and screamed.

  That startled him enough that his arms loosened. She inhaled, and screamed again, louder.

  The double doors of the drawing room were flung open.

  "What's happening here?"

  A male voice roared the words.

  Mr. Killock released her so suddenly that Jane slumped to her knees. She braced her hand on the rough stone floor so that she could fill her lungs. Breathe, she told herself.

  Major Baker-Cornhill. She would know his deep voice anywhere. He set his hands on her waist and lifted her easily, handling her as though she weighed nothing at all. He held her against him for a moment, his large hands warm on her upper arms.

  She stepped away, and turned to stare at him. What was he doing here? She couldn't accept that he was real, and that he was here. He was to arrive on Saturday.

  "Lady Jane, please sit down." He helped her to the sofa and knelt in front of her. His deep voice was gravelly. "Take a moment, get your breath."

  "Who in God's name are you?" Mr. Killock squeaked the words, then cleared his throat.

  The major glanced at him, and rose to his feet.
"More to the point," he snarled, "who are you, and what d'you mean by manhandling Lady Jane? Are you insane, man? How do you dare?"

  When she looked up, Jane saw that Mr. Killock's face was bright red. He braced his hands on his hips, and glared at her, then at the major. "I'm Horace Killock. I own Kennystowe Castle. As for manhandling, I've made the woman a firm offer of marriage — she'll be wise to accept. I suppose you're a gentleman, so I'll thank you to act like one and leave us to our discussion."

  The major stepped away from Jane. He laughed. "You own the Castle? Is that so? It's my understanding that the castle belongs to the old lord and Lord Alex. Lord Alex is Lady Jane's brother. And if she accepted your proposal, you fool — why on earth was she screaming for her life?"

  "She's a virgin," Horace Killock said, and sniffed. He sounded disgruntled. "What d'you expect? At her age, of course she'll scream. Means nothing at all. Now take yourself out of this room at once, before I lose my temper. Coming between a man, and his intended wife — you'll be lucky if I don't make you answer for it."

  "Lose your temper? You might as well, considering that you've already lost your mind. I'll meet you outside — give me a moment to fetch the servants and Lady Jane's maid, and I'll join you, with pleasure."

  He turned back to Jane and knelt beside her again.

  She stared into his slate-colored eyes. She never seen him looking so kind. "I am recovered. It was merely a momentary faintness," she said, and braced herself on the sofa, ready to stand, but the major put a gentle, warm hand on her arm, and stayed her.

  "No, my dear, you've had a shock. A little tot of brandy will see you right. You've more color in your face already. I'll get rid of this elephant of a man and I'll be back. It won't take but a moment to deal with him."