A Wealthy Widow

by Anne Herries

  Of course they had met only once, at her wedding to Sir Benjamin Marshall. She was sure in her own mind that his name was Charles Hunter and that he had been one of several young men introduced to her that day by Ben. Charles Hunter had been very different then. She remembered that he had teased her, telling her that if she grew tired of her husband she might turn to him. She had laughed at him, for nothing could have made her grow tired of her beloved Ben. Handsome and carefree then, what could have changed Charles Hunter from the devil-may-care young man he had been to this gaunt-eyed stranger? She sensed that he had suffered—was still suffering deeply.

  ‘Oh, Arabella, they say it will take several hours to mend the wheel of your carriage,’ her companion said, coming in at that moment. ‘The landlord says he can offer us a room for the night, if you wish for it.’

  ‘We shall stay here if we are forced,’ Arabella said. She glanced round the small room, which was not quite what she was used to when travelling, though clean and adequate. ‘But I would prefer to go on to the White Hart outside Richmond if we are able. My aunt expects us tomorrow and we may send her a message from there to tell her that we have suffered a delay.’

  ‘What shall I tell the landlord?’

  ‘Leave it to me, Tilda,’ Arabella said and smiled at her companion. Tilda Redmond was a distant cousin of her mother’s, a spinster lady of middle years, and had come to bear her company after Ben was killed. She had been meant to stay just for a few weeks, but she had shown no sign of wanting to leave and Arabella did not have the heart to send her away. Besides, she had made up her mind not to marry again, and Tilda was always so obliging. ‘I have bespoken nuncheon from our host, and we shall see how they fare with mending that wheel before we decide.’

  ‘As you wish,’ Tilda said. She went to warm her hands by the fire—although it was the middle of August she felt cold, as she invariably did. ‘I thought we were to share the parlour with a gentleman?’

  ‘Oh, he left,’ Arabella said with a shrug. ‘I dare say he had finished his ale and was anxious to continue his journey.’

  ‘It must have been the gentleman I saw calling for his horse.’ Tilda nodded her head. ‘He was quite handsome, with dark hair and blue eyes…’

  ‘Yes, I dare say that was him,’ Arabella agreed and wrinkled her smooth brow in a frown. This was getting her nowhere! She decided to forget her brief encounter with Mr Hunter. Whatever his problem might be, it was none of her business. She turned as the landlord’s wife came bustling into the parlour with her tray.

  ‘There’s some nice tomato soup, my lady, and the bread is fresh made this morning—and there’s some fine ham and pickles for after if you should wish for it.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Arabella, said. ‘We shall have the ham and a glass of your best wine, ma’am, if you please.’ She nodded her approval of the soup, which smelled delicious. ‘And you will let us know as soon as the carriage is repaired?’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ the woman promised and went off, leaving them to enjoy their soup, which tasted as good as it smelled.

  It was late afternoon when Arabella came out of the inn to find her carriage repaired and waiting. She paused for a moment and then gestured to her maid, who had been attending to something in the baggage coach.

  ‘We are almost ready to leave, Iris. Please make sure that we have my small trunk with us. If we should suffer another accident, I may need it tonight.’

  ‘Yes, my lady, of course. I’ll attend to it immediately.’

  Arabella stopped to speak to her coachman and one of the grooms who was attending to the horses, discussing a change in plans for that night. Because of the delay, it was possible that they might not reach their planned destination. As she did so, a curricle drove into the inn yard and a man got down. He was dressed in the manner of a dandy—his travelling cloak had six capes, and his cravat was ridiculously high and fussy, especially for a journey into the country.

  Arabella tensed as the man threw the reins to his tiger and walked towards the inn. For a moment she wished that she might avoid meeting him, for he was a gentleman she knew and did not much like, but pride came to her rescue. She had no reason to feel embarrassed. Sir Courtney Welch had asked her to marry him a year after Ben’s death. Still raw with grief, she had refused him as politely as she could, but he had taken offence and had later accosted her in a drunken fit. His disgusting behaviour had been one of the reasons she had decided never to marry again. She would rather remain unwed than make the mistake of marrying someone she discovered later that she could not like.

  ‘Madam,’ he said, bowing to her in an exaggerated manner that was almost an insult. ‘Alas, it seems that you are always leaving when I arrive.’

  He could not have failed to notice that Arabella avoided his company whenever possible, but she had always preferred to avoid confrontation with him. She was relieved when Tilda spoke to her, unwittingly saving her from having to reply to his false gallantry.

  ‘They were much quicker mending the wheel than the landlord thought,’ Tilda observed as she touched Arabella’s arm. ‘But we should go, my dear, it will be dark before we reach Richmond.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it will,’ Arabella agreed and allowed herself to be directed towards the carriage. She did not look back at the man she disliked. Had she done so, she would have seen that he was staring after her, his face stark with anger. ‘I had hoped to arrive earlier, but it cannot be helped. I am not sure we shall manage to complete our journey tonight.’ Because the day was overcast it was already darker than she had thought possible for the hour.

  ‘But we are well protected, Tilda. You need not fear highwaymen. My grooms are all armed and we have several of them. I believe those that make their living from waylaying unwary travellers are more likely to attack unaccompanied carriages.’

  ‘Yes, I am sure you are right,’ Tilda said, but cast an anxious look from the window of their carriage as if she feared that they might be attacked at any moment. ‘But I shall be glad when we reach London and your aunt’s house. Inns are never so comfortable as one’s own bed.’

  Arabella smiled, for she knew that Tilda was of a nervous disposition. She believed herself more than a match for any highwayman and carried a small pistol inside her velvet muff. She did not mention this to her companion—it would only distress her more—but she was glad of it as the light began to fade and the sky grew darker.

  They had been travelling for more than an hour and a half when she heard a shout from the driving box and the carriage drew to a sudden halt, shuddering as Arabella and Tilda were both thrown forward. Tilda gave a little cry of fright and looked at her in alarm.

  ‘Oh, what is it? Do you think a highwayman…?’

  Arabella shook her head, but her fingers sought and found the pistol. She would use it if need be! She turned her head as one of the grooms came to open the door of the carriage.

  ‘What is the matter, Williams?’

  ‘There is a man lying on the ground just ahead of us, my lady,’ the groom said. ‘I think he has had an accident. It looks as if his horse stumbled and he must have fallen. The horse is nearby and seems to be lame.’

  ‘Is the man badly hurt?’ Arabella asked, preparing to get down from the carriage.

  ‘Do be careful,’ Tilda warned. ‘It might be a trap…’

  ‘No, I do not think so.’

  Arabella had seen the figure lying on the ground now. He was not moving at all and she thought it must have been a serious accident. The cause was obvious. A rope had been tied to a tree and then pulled tight across the road so that his horse stumbled. In the fading light the rider would not have seen the sinister device until it was too late.

  ‘What foul deed has taken place here?’ she asked of her coachman. ‘This must have been deliberate.’

  ‘The intention was to rob him, my lady. We saw a ruffian make off through the woods as we approached. Had we not arrived so opportunely, it might have ended in murder.’

  ‘
How wicked!’ Arabella shivered and looked about her. It was a lonely spot with thick woods on either side of the road. Just the kind of place that a rogue might lie in wait for the opportunity to attack a lone traveller. She moved closer to the man lying on the ground, catching her breath as she saw his face clearly for the first time. It was Charles Hunter! ‘Is he dead?’ she asked the groom, suddenly anxious.

  Williams dropped to his knees, making a swift assessment. He looked up at her, shaking his head. ‘He has been knocked senseless, my lady. There is a nasty blow to the side of his head, but he still has a pulse.’

  ‘We must take him up with us,’ Arabella said, making her decision at once. ‘If we leave him here, he will almost certainly die, of his injury if not further attack. Be very careful as you lift him, Williams. We shall go immediately to the nearest inn and summon a doctor. He must be examined and treated as soon as possible.’

  She watched anxiously as three of her servants combined to lift the unconscious man into the carriage. Climbing in herself unaided, she instructed them to lay his head on her lap so that she might support him.

  ‘Should you be taking up a stranger like this?’ Tilda asked, giving her a doubtful look. ‘You do not know who he may be. He could be anyone—a thief or a murderer.’

  Arabella bit back the sharp retort that leapt to mind. For some reason she was reluctant to tell her cousin that she believed she knew the gentleman’s identity.

  ‘I do not imagine we are in any danger from him at the moment. It is surely our Christian duty to help him, Tilda. If we left him lying there, we should be heartless creatures indeed.’

  ‘Yes, that is very true,’ Tilda said, looking slightly ashamed. ‘You are always such a charitable person, Arabella. You put me to the blush.’

  ‘I know you were only thinking of me,’ Arabella replied.

  ‘But he is obviously a gentleman and we must help him. Instead of trying for Richmond this evening, we shall go to the nearest inn and take rooms there. A doctor must examine this poor man as quickly as possible.’

  ‘Yes, of course you are right,’ Tilda agreed, but still looked doubtful. She had not yet become reconciled to her cousin’s habit of taking life in her stride. To her way of thinking, Arabella seemed reckless, a very confident young woman who had no one to guide her. She was still young and, being both beautiful and wealthy, might fall prey to fortune hunters, for she had no male relative to guard or protect her—other than her cousin Ralph, whom she disliked.

  ‘Do not look so anxious,’ Arabella said, guessing at a part of what Tilda was thinking. Her cousin was of a timid, nervous disposition, but she had tried hard to be a comfort to Arabella during her period of mourning, and it would be unkind to find her constant anxiety a little tedious. ‘I assure you there is no need. This poor man cannot harm us. He is far too ill.’

  Tilda sighed deeply. However, she knew that she could not turn Arabella once her mind was set. ‘I am perhaps being foolish, as I so often am, my dear. You will do as you think right, Arabella.’

  Arabella sensed that her companion was slightly peeved. She normally made a show of listening to Tilda’s advice out of politeness, though she rarely followed it, but in this instance she found it irritating.

  ‘Ben always told me to throw my heart over the fences,’ she said. ‘He would have done exactly as I have.’

  ‘Dear Ben, such a gentle, kind man,’ Tilda said and took a kerchief from her reticule. ‘Such a pity…’ She faltered as she saw the look in Arabella’s eyes, knowing that she was treading on thin ice. ‘Forgive me. I did not mean to distress you, my dear.’

  ‘You have not. Ben was strong and fearless—but, yes, he was also kind and gentle at times.’ Arabella smiled a little sadly. Sometimes now she was able to think of her husband without feeling the terrible sweeping grief that had almost destroyed her immediately after the news of Ben’s death. She had wanted to die then, had stood by the edge of the deep lake on her husband’s estate, contemplating suicide. She did not know to this day what had made her turn away, for she had found no joy in living. ‘If we do not speak of him, he is lost, as if he had never been.’

  Arabella felt a sharp pang of regret. How often she had wished that she had conceived during their brief honeymoon. Just one precious week to remember for the rest of her life, before Ben left to join his regiment. His child would have been a tiny piece of him to love, to fill her life and keep her from feeling lonely, as she sometimes did, but that joy had been denied her.

  ‘You are so brave, Arabella.’ Tilda dabbed at her eyes. ‘I am sure you are a shining example for any young woman. To have suffered so much so young.’

  Arabella was able to ignore her remarks and the pity in her tone, for she saw they were approaching an inn. It had a low sloping thatched roof, white, limewashed walls and small windows. At first glance, it looked respectable for a small country inn, and she was pleased because they had reached it much sooner than she had expected.

  The next several minutes were taken up by securing rooms and overseeing the transfer of their patient to one of the host’s best chambers. A doctor was duly sent for, arriving within a short time. Arabella spoke to him a little later as he came downstairs after examining his patient.

  ‘How is he?’ she asked. ‘Please tell me that he is not going to die, sir.’

  ‘It is much too soon to be sure, ma’am,’ he replied gravely.

  ‘The wound to his head does not seem severe, but one can never tell with these causes. I believe much will depend upon his being nursed by a woman of sense. Your husband should recover in time, ma’am, but at the moment I cannot say it is certain.’

  It was on the tip of Arabella’s tongue to reply that his patient was not her husband, but something held her silent. Since it seemed that she must care for him herself it might be better to allow both him and the landlord to believe that she was Mr Hunter’s wife.

  ‘Thank you. What must I do to help him, sir?’

  ‘Just watch over him carefully in these first hours. He may be violent or startled when he comes to his senses and you may need to restrain him from harming himself or others. I have seen men fight those that have cared for them in a kind of madness that comes from brain fever—but these cases are all different and you must use your own good sense. If you need me, please do not hesitate to send word.’

  ‘You think he should remain here for the time being?’ Arabella frowned she knew that her aunt was expecting her in Hanover Square the following day.

  ‘Oh, yes, certainly. It would be most harmful to move him until he has recovered his senses. He needs rest and care, ma’am—rest and care.’

  ‘I see. Thank you,’ Arabella said. She was thoughtful as the doctor left the inn parlour, looking about her. It was a comfortable room; quite small, but clean and respectable. She could have fared worse in an unknown inn. If her stay here were to be extended for a few days, she would need to speak to the landlord’s wife—and to Tilda. Firstly, she would reserve the rooms she needed and then break the news to her companion.

  ‘You cannot mean it,’ Tilda said and looked at her in horror. ‘I do not understand, Arabella—why should you allow anyone to believe you are married to that man?’

  ‘I am determined to nurse him,’ Arabella told her. ‘I cannot abandon him to his fate, and it is better that others should believe him my husband.’

  ‘But why should you run such a risk for a stranger? You could leave your maid here to care for him if you must do something, and to my mind you have already done more than necessary. Iris is a sensible girl. She could nurse him and then join us in town. It is quite impossible for us to stay here, Arabella. There simply aren’t enough rooms for all of us. I have been told that I must either share a bedchamber with Iris or you, my dear.’

  ‘You will share my room for one night, of course,’ Arabella said. ‘That is why I propose that you should go on to London in the morning, Tilda. You may explain that I have been delayed—though you may not tell Aunt He
ster why. Just say that I have been called to the bedside of a sick friend and will come to her in a few days.’

  ‘No! Certainly not! You cannot think that I would desert you? If you are determined to stay, I shall remain to assist you in whatever you intend.’ Tilda’s feathers were seriously ruffled and she looked indignant, though prepared to do her duty.

  ‘I knew that you would wish to help me,’ Arabella said and bestowed a warm smile on her. ‘But Iris will be here to keep me company. Aunt Hester will worry if I do not arrive on time. Please oblige me in this, Tilda, for I am quite determined on it.’ The expression in her eyes belied the smile and warned that she would not be thwarted.

  Tilda opened her mouth to protest and then closed it. She was well aware that she could not dictate to Arabella. She was dependent on her charity and did not wish to risk a breach with her.

  ‘But think of your reputation, my dear.’ The cry was plaintive, for she had little hope of being listened to. ‘If people should hear of you staying at an inn alone…and nursing a gentleman you do not know. And that you masqueraded as his wife!’

  Arabella smiled in amusement. ‘Remember that I am four and twenty, Tilda. I am not an innocent girl—I have been married. Besides, this inn is so quiet that it is not likely to be patronised by the ton. No one who knows me will visit—so no one need ever know. I suppose I may rely on your discretion?’

  ‘You must know I would never betray you! But why do you wish to do this for a stranger? Why take on this responsibility, Arabella?’

  Arabella was silent for a moment. She did not know why she was prepared to abandon her plans for a man she did not know—for, even if he truly was Charles Hunter, she could not claim to know him. Yet he had been one of Ben’s friends and perhaps she was doing this because she had been unable to nurse her husband as he lay dying in a foreign land. She had been haunted by the thought of his dying alone, in pain and calling for her, praying that a kind woman had stooped to comfort in him in his last hours. She could do at least as much for this man.