The Widow and the Warrior

by Sarah Winn

  When they returned to the nursey, they found Molly waiting impatiently. Robbie had already gone to the stables. Taking the back stairs, they reached the portico entrance at almost the same time the men came down from the front part of the house.

  Miss Nesbitt asked the earl if he would like for her to accompany them. He said no thank-you, and she seemed relieved. Molly quickly moved to take her uncle’s hand. The captain extended his hand toward Toby and her son smiled delightedly as he stepped forward and clasped it. Ellen felt a twinge of discomfort at her son’s delight in another adult’s company, but at least the boy’s bright smile inspired the usually solemn Captain to smile back.

  Once the men and children were gone, Miss Nesbitt turned to Ellen. “Looks like we’ll have a couple of free hours this morning. Is there anything you’d like to do?”

  Ellen thought for a moment. “I’d really like to practice my violin. I haven’t been able to touch it for the last few days. Is there some private place I can go?”

  Miss Nesbitt’s eyebrows shot up. “You play the violin! I play the piano, and I never get to practice with another musician. Please let me practice with you. We can go to the music room on the ground floor. It’s very private there.”

  “Ah—well, I have to warn you that the only music I have with me are popular pieces. I left all my classical sheets at home.”

  “Splendid!” Miss Nesbitt took her arm and hurried them back toward the stairs. “All I get to play here are children’s songs.”

  * * * *

  As they crunched along the gravel lane toward the stables, Gerald looked down at Toby. The boy stared up at him with uncertainty on his face, and Gerald realized this was the first time he and Toby had been together without the boy’s mother. Hoping to put the child more at ease, Gerald asked, “Do you like horses, Toby?”

  “I—I don’t know. They’re big.”

  “Have you ever been in a stable before?” Gerald asked.

  The boy shook his head.

  Molly, who was several steps ahead of them, looked over her shoulder. “Ponies are smaller than horses. Now that Robbie is riding horses, I get his pony. We’ll see it today.”

  Attention from the girl with bouncing blonde curls put some pep into Toby’s steps.

  As they entered the stable, one of the stablemen tipped his cap to the earl. “Master Robbie be in the paddock, my lord.”

  Firthley nodded at the man and they turned toward Gerald. “Let’s go around to the back and watch.”

  They walked around to the fenced-in riding area, and saw Robbie on a horse with Mr. Brown, the head stableman, standing close by and giving him soft instructions. Molly immediately climbed the lateral boards of the fence so she could peer over the top one. Toby tried to follow suit, but his legs were a bit short. The boy looked up at Gerald with an appeal in his eyes, so Gerald slipped his arm around the front of the boy’s body and lifted him enough for his feet and hands to plant on the upper boards.

  With his vision unobstructed, Toby smiled over at Gerald. “Thank you, Captain.”

  Gerald smiled back. He’d always thought he preferred to interact with older children, but there was something quite satisfying about being able to come to the aid of a boy like Toby.

  He noticed Firthley smiling at him, smirking really, so Gerald quickly shifted his attention to the riding lesson. Although, it wasn’t much of a lesson. Mr. Brown was softly making suggestions as Robbie took the horses through the paces of walking, cantering, and trotting. “The boy seems to have the basics already,” Gerald remarked.

  Firthley was leaning against the top of the fence, close enough to grab Molly if necessary. “He learned most of the basics on the pony. Robbie has a natural talent for riding.”

  “Takes after his uncle, no doubt. Send him over to my place and let Mr. Samuel give him some practice on the loneging line. He’ll have the boy riding like a cavalryman in no time.”

  Firthley turned so he could see Gerald properly. “Is Samuels still with you, now that you’ve closed the riding academy?”

  Gerald felt a rush of regret for this subject being brought up. “He’s giving lessons to some of the neighborhood boys, and training a local fellow I’ve hired to work with the new horses. But you’re right. I don’t know if I’ll be able to keep him on much longer.”

  “A man with his experience should be able to find another place easily.”

  Gerald sighed. “He is getting a bit grey to handle anything but well-trained horses, and I did promise him a permanent position when I talked him into coming to work for me.”

  The earl frowned a bit. “If you need to get back to your place, you can leave the Coylers here. We’ll take good care of them.”

  He really should be managing the beginning of his new business venture, but he owed the Coylers a debt that he could not foist off onto others. “When we hear from London, it may be necessary to move them. I can’t expect you to take care of that.”

  Firthley gave him another one of his all-knowing smirks. Then Molly announced she was tired of watching Robbie and wanted to see her pony.

  * * * *

  The music room was, of course, quite elegant. The piano was a grand affair, of highly polished, dark wood, and while Ellen checked her strings and added rosin to her bow, Miss Nesbitt unlocked the shelf that covered the keys and raised the large backboard over the strings. Finally, Miss Nesbitt sat on the bench and looked up at Ellen. “What shall we play first?”

  “I always run through the scales a few times before I start.”

  Miss Nesbitt sounded a C, Ellen followed and soon they were moving back and forth, increasing the tempo until they were racing between the notes and giggling at each other.

  Finally, Ellen swung her bow away from the strings. “I surrender.”

  “So where is the new music you were talking about?”

  Ellen bent to retrieve the sheet of music she had hurriedly crunched into the back of her violin case. “I only have one copy of this, but I already know most of it by heart.” She smoothed wrinkles from the sheet and propped in on the rack above the piano keyboard.

  Miss Nesbitt stared at the sheet for a few moments. “You were right about this being new. I’ve never heard it before.”

  “Let me play a bit for you.” Ellen started playing the basic melody as slowly as she could.

  Miss Nesbitt began to add cords. Ellen picked up the tempo. Miss Nesbitt followed her lead, and by the third time they played it through they were in unison and producing a lively jig that only the most robust could have danced to.

  They had just paused to regain their breath when the door swung open and the countess rushed into the room. Ellen was horrified. “Oh, my lady, have we disturbed you?”

  “No, no, you have delighted me.” The countess chipped. “You both must play after dinner tonight. It will the best entertainment this old house has heard in ages.”

  Ellen and Miss Nesbitt played after dinner that night and the nights that followed. They even worked up a piece with Molly playing with Miss Nesbitt and performed that at teatime. And Ellen felt less guilty about accepting the hospitality of people she barely knew.

  Chapter 4

  It had taken Bill Blake a half day—most of it spent waiting for a damn train—to get back to Hemsley and find the hack driver who, after Bill had placed a shilling in the greedy bloke’s hand, had admitted driving a woman and a small boy out to Osborne’s Riding Academy. Bill had immediately gone to a livery stable, rented a broken-down nag, and ridden out to the location the driver had described.

  On reaching the driveway where a sign said, “Osborne Riding Academy,” Bill pulled off the lane that led up to the house and went into the woods surrounding the place. The damn trees and bushes were so thick that he soon had to tie the horse’s reins to a branch and make his way on foot. Having spent most of his life in London, he found all these jabbing twigs and branches a bloody nuisance.

  Eventually, he worked his way up to the house and around to t
he stable and saw nothing but people who were obviously servants doing routine labor. Doors were left standing open, windows were uncovered, nothing seemed out of the ordinary. By the time he got back to the rented horse, Bill was hot, tired, scratched, and thoroughly irritated. Where in the hell had the woman gone?

  He returned the rented horse to the stable, and struck up a conversation with the stable hand as he unsaddled the horse. “Where’s a good place to eat around here?”

  “The tavern just down the street is good enough and it’s cheap,” the man replied.

  It irritated Bill that the big, dumb-looking man would assume Bill would want cheap. But then he noticed some leaves sticking to his jacket sleeve and realized he wasn’t exactly at his best. Deciding to leave no stone unturned, Bill asked, “You happen to know a fellow named Osborne who runs a riding academy just outside of town.”

  The big man nodded. “Everybody knows who he is. Some kinda’ war hero. He lost an arm and always wears a fake one when he comes to town. It looks real enough until you notice it don’t move good.”

  Bill reminded himself to never underestimate the value of village gossip. “I think I will have a meal at that tavern. When you get off work, come on over and I’ll buy you a pint.”

  The man broke into a smile and nodded his head.

  * * * *

  Bill had finished a less than average meal, when the stableman joined him. The man approached Bill’s table with hesitant steps, as if he halfway expected Bill to renege on his offer.

  Bill smiled and said, “Have a seat. My name’s Bill Blake. What’s yours?”

  “Zeke,” the man said as he hurriedly sat down.

  Bill waved at the barmaid and through hand signals indicated he wanted two more ales. When they were served, Zeke grabbed his so eagerly that Bill halfway expected him to suck it down in one gulp. He stopped gulping while the stein was still half-full and plopped it down on the table. “That’s good—real good. Thank ye, Mr. Blake.”

  “Just call me Bill. Everybody does.”

  Bill tried to work the conversation back to “that Osborne fellow,” by pretending he was interested in the riding academy, but he soon learned that Zeke knew little or nothing about it. He was about to decide he had wasted the price of the pint, when Zeke pointed out an older man entering the tavern. “That’s Tully. He works for Osborne. Maybe he can tell you something.”

  Bill waited until Tully had ordered and been served, not wanting to get stuck with buying another pint. Then he strolled over to the bar. “Excuse me, mister, but my friend, Zeke, tells me you work for the Osborne Riding Academy.”

  The older man looked up from his pint and nodded.

  “I work for a gentleman who’s interested in finding a place to send his son for riding lessons. Can you give me some information about your academy?”

  “We got no boarding students right now, just local boys. Don’t know when or if we’ll have another group to stay at the house.”

  “How can I get more information?” Bill asked.

  “Captain Osborne is the only one who can say for sure, and he’s away.”

  “Do you know when he’ll be back or where he’s gone?”

  Bill saw suspicion flicker in Tully’s eyes and knew he’d pressed too hard. “Can’t say, ’cause I don’t know,” the man muttered and turned back to his ale.

  Bill went back to the table where Zeke now sat in front of an empty stein. “He wasn’t much help,” Bill said. “Osborne’s away and they don’t know when he’ll be back.”

  “He’s probably gone to visit his friend, the earl.” Zeke said softly.

  “What earl?”

  “Firthley. He’s got a big place east of here. He and Osborne were in the war together. Folks that work for Osborne brag about it like the earl was their friend too.”

  All was not lost. What better place to hide a woman and child than in an earl’s well-guarded mansion? Bill signaled the bar maid to bring two more ales. He had plans to make and Zeke might be of further service.

  First thing tomorrow, Bill would send a telegram to that solicitor of Coyler’s, telling him he was hot of the trail of the missing woman. Then he’d check that academy again just to make sure Tully wasn’t smarter than he looked. If he found nothing there, he’d go to that earl’s estate. But there was no hurry, the longer old man Coyler stewed about his missing grandchild, the more willing he’d be to pay Bill’s padded expense account and that fat bonus he’d promised. Yes, sir, things were looking up for Bill Blake.

  Chapter 5

  Ellen was on the front lawn with Toby, Molly, and Miss Nesbitt, when a hired hackney drove down the long driveway. Molly paused, in her attempt to teach Toby how to keep a hoop rolling by using a short stick, to watch a well-dressed gentleman step down from the buggy. A footman rushed from the house to take the man’s valise. Molly waved frantically and called out, “Hello, Captain Dan.”

  The man turned, smiled broadly at the child, and waved back. Ellen had the feeling his expression suddenly turned somber as looked at her, but he nodded and tipped his hat.

  After he turned and walked into the house, Ellen asked Miss. Nesbitt, “Is that Mr. Daniel Matthews, the law clerk?”

  “Yes,” the governess said, “but he’s only clerking while he is studying to become a barrister. He’s another former army companion of the earl’s.”

  Ellen felt sure the man had brought news about her case and wondered when or if she would be told what it was. She didn’t have to wait long. Within a half hour a footman came to say the countess requested Mrs. Coyler’s presence in her parlor. Miss Nesbitt waved her on, telling her not to worry about Toby, and Ellen hurried inside, hoping she would at last hear some good news about her predicament.

  She found the countess waiting for her at the doorway of her parlor. “I guess you know Mr. Matthews is here.” She gestured down the hallway. “The men are waiting in Firthley’s study, and Firthley suggested you might feel more comfortable if I accompany you. Do you have any objections?”

  “Certainly not, my lady.” Ellen was well aware of the countess’s concern for her and Toby. “In fact, I will feel more comfortable if you are there.”

  The earl, Captain Osborne, and Mr. Matthews all stood when Ellen and the countess entered the earl’s study. Introductions were quickly made, and then they all turned to one of the chairs that had been placed in a semicircle in front of Firthley’s desk.

  When everyone was again seated, the earl said, “As you know I sent a request to Daniel to ask if he could garner any particulars about your situation. The information he uncovered seemed so important to him that he decided to bring it himself.”

  “What—what has he discovered?” Ellen forced the words out.

  Mr. Matthews pursed his lips before speaking. “Not good news, I’m afraid. Silas Coyler is represented by the solicitors Morrison and Fanning, a very successful firm. And Coyler himself is a formidably man. He must be some sort of mechanical genius, for he started working in the mines as a twelve-year-old boy and now owns several mines as well as a company that makes mining equipment. The men I talked to, other clerks, referred to him as a real fire-breathing dragon.”

  A rich man. It had been Ellen’s experience that the rich usually got what they wanted.

  Mr. Matthews continued. “But the worst part is, he is not only challenging your ability to support the child, he is also claiming you are not morally fit to do so.”

  Gerald slapped the arm of his chair. “I know that’s a ridiculous charge! Her husband was a fine fellow and always spoke very highly of her.”

  Mr. Matthews ignored the outburst and continued to look at Ellen. “Mr. Coyler claims that you work at night in a tavern and leave the boy at home alone.”

  Ellen shook her head vigorously. “That’s not true! The widow I rent rooms from is always there when I’m away, and she and Toby are fond of each other.”

  “But you do work in a tavern?”

  “A beer garden. Two nights a week
. I play my violin with a small dance orchestra. I tried giving violin lessons at home, but few of the people in the neighborhood where I live can afford such a luxury for their children. My widow’s pension barely covers living expenses. There’s no way I can send Toby to school without additional income.”

  “She is a talented violinist,” the earl said. “She has played for us on several occasions.”

  After a moment of silence and a good deal of shifting about in chairs, Mr. Matthews took a deep breath. “It seems the Coylers had only two children. Their daughter died during childbirth. It is possible the old man wishes to make your son his heir.”

  Was he suggesting that she should surrender Toby to his grandfather for the boy’s own good? “But he is a mean man.” Ellen’s voice cracked and she blinked back tears. “Philip left home because his father insisted he drop out of school and go to work in a coal mine. Philip hated being underground and ran away and joined the army. The old man found out Philip and his mother were exchanging letters and made the mother stop writing to him. I cannot bear to think of Toby being raised by such a hard-hearted man.”

  In a voice that reeked indignation, the countess asked, “Don’t mothers have legal rights to their children in this country?”

  “Until they are seven years old,” Mr. Matthews replied in a soft voice, “and providing the mother is morally above reproach.”

  “By God!” Captain Osborne exclaimed. “There’s nothing immoral about playing a violin.”