by Liese Anning
'I did not know Melrose was your cousin,' James said, looking at him in surprise.
'I know he has a dubious reputation, but I can guarantee there will be no matchmaking mamas at his house party. Just a bit of hunting, cards and, of course, more congenial feminine company. The type that does not pester you for a marriage proposal.'
'I do not know,' said James, 'I said to my brother I would accompany him to Langton and spend the Autumn with him.'
'It would only be for a few weeks. You could join your brother later.'
James was not in the best frame of mind. He had not been sober for many days. Under normal circumstances, he would never have agreed to Ellington's suggestion. But James, in his present state of mind, was not in a position to make reasonable decisions.
'Yes, I will go,' he said, 'it has got to be better than staying here.'
‘Good, let us drink to our journey,' Ellington said as he filled both of their empty glasses. 'We will leave the day after tomorrow.'
Two days later both men left London and were making their way slowly towards Devon. The journey, which at the best of times, is long and arduous, took even longer than usual. It was late October and the days were beginning to draw in. Ellington's wound meant he could not ride ahead of the carriage, and James felt obliged to travel inside with his friend. As they travelled further away from the capital, the roads became unbearable. Every bump seemed exaggerated by the poor quality of the carriage that Ellington had hired for the journey.
James had left his Batman behind in Spain, and since returning to England, he had employed a temporary replacement. His servant, who was not very talkative at the best of times, managed to maintain a stony silence for virtually the whole journey.
He was also becoming increasingly concerned about the erratic behaviour of his friend. Ellington, ever since they had been at school together, had cultivated a rackety reputation. However, recently it had become far worse. He had boasted that his prospective father-in-law, had paid off all his debts, that he had amassed over the past few months, without so much as a word of rebuke. He had also boasted how he ruined a young woman in her first season. He had told James the whole story, congratulating himself on how much the girl had fallen in love with him. In fact, he had told James, she had become so infatuated with him, she had refused to reveal the name of her lover to her family. Instead of ruining his life, she had decided that it would be better to be punished by her father and sent home in disgrace. He had then laughed at the thought of the poor girl being locked up and never being able to return to polite society again; on account of him.
In the evening, after supper, Ellington would go to the taproom, and indulge in any depraved activity, with anyone who cared to join him. James decided, early in the journey, that he was not going to lecture his friend on what he chose to do. He thought that it would be easy to ignore his outrageous behaviour. But, after several days of bailing him out of trouble, he was growing weary of helping him. It was evident to him that Ellington cared for no-one but himself.
After eight long days and nights, they were only a few miles from their journey's end. James was in a particularly black mood. It had been raining non-stop for two days, and the water was beginning to seep through the gaps in the rotten window frames. Ellington, who had been up all the previous night drinking and gambling, was snoring loudly. How anyone could sleep, in this carriage as it bumped along the road, was anyone's guess. The rain continued to thunder on the roof and water was beginning to collect on the carriage floor. His valet, who had now decided to break his vow of silence, began to complain. James could not wait for the journey to end.
There was a loud noise, like a bang, and the carriage lurched to the right, rolling over onto its side. It was early evening, and the sun had set several hours ago. James managed to open the door and climb out, but was pitch black and he could not see. As his eyes accustomed themselves to the dark, he surveyed the damage and began to help his travelling companions.
'What the hell happened?' Ellington said, rubbing a cut on his forehead with a handkerchief.
James was already helping the driver to free the horses. 'The axle has broken, and the back wheel has come off.' He said trying to suppress the anger he felt. If his friend had hired an equipage that was half decent, this would never have happened.
'Can it be fixed?'
'No,' was the curt reply, 'it cannot.'
Once James had finished helping the coachman secure the horses he looked around for signs of life. There was a flicker of light in the distance. 'I think there is a house not far from here. I will take one of the lanterns and go and get help. He took one of the lanterns from the front of the coach, leaving the others to look after the animals and the luggage.
'I will come with you,' Ellington said, as he followed James.
'Do you not think you should stay here?' James said, with water dripping down his face.
'They do not need me,' Ellington answered, shrugging his shoulders. ‘I would rather come with you.’
They walked a few yards down the road and came to an entrance of a house. The road they had been travelling on was in a sorry state of repair, but this was nothing compared to the drive. Puddles of muddy water covered its surface. And as he walked he felt his boots become heavy with the thick, sticky mud that was difficult to avoid. The lantern made a small pool of light, and he tried, without much success, to avoid the massive potholes that liberally scattered the drive.
He was beginning to feel the rivulets of rain running down the back of his neck. And his thick coat, which had kept him warm and dry in Spain was now becoming waterlogged. He swore under his breath. There was really nothing he despised more than getting cold and wet.
It took about ten minutes to reach their destination, and James had been hoping for a friendly welcome and an offer of help. The house, which looked deserted, except for a sliver of light coming through a ground floor window, did not look at all well-maintained. Thick ivy grew out of control over the walls, and it had obscured most of the windows. A couple of slates, from the roof above them, were blown off by the wind. They shattered into tiny pieces, as they hit the ground, only inches away from his feet. If he had not been so wet, or miserable, he would have turned around there and then and found other help.
James kicked the tile out of the way and approached the door. The building's Tudor design lacked the grand entrance that so many country houses now had. The large oak door that, at one time, had been sheltered by a wooden porch, was now exposed to the elements. He hammered on the door using the cast iron door knocker, as the rain continued to pour through the holes in the roof, landing on the two men trying to find a modicum of shelter.
He waited for what felt like an eternity, but, in reality, was only a few minutes. No answer came. He knocked again, this time hitting the door knocker even harder against the solid oak door. Still no reply. James was just about to go and knock on the window, where he had seen the light when the door began to creak open. It opened slowly at first, but a gust of wind flung it open.
There was no light on the other side, and James began to wonder if there was anyone there at all. He lifted the storm lantern to light the hallway. To his surprise, two young women were standing, each holding a unlit candle that must have blown out when the door opened.
They were both tall. The younger one had blonde hair that was secured, at the back of her neck, in a tight chignon. And she had the brightest blue eyes he had ever seen. The other woman, who he guessed to be a few years her senior, had light red hair and hazel eyes. She was muttering under her breath, and she did not look at all pleased.
'Good evening, may we come in?' James said, trying not to sound annoyed, 'it is a bit wet out here.'
The younger woman, with the blonde hair and the bright blue eyes, had disappeared momentarily. They all stood in their respective places until she returned holding a lit candle. Both men continued to wait patiently for their invitation to enter the hallway.
Once th
ey were inside, James explained their situation and asked for help. He was somewhat taken aback when they were told that they did not have any servants. Surely, a house such as this would have a large staff.
The two women spoke to each other, but James could not make out what they had said. After the conversation, the woman, with the hazel eyes, seemed to take command of the situation. She pointed to Ellington, whose injury looked quite serious, and told him to follow the younger woman. Then she motioned for James to follow her.
James watched Ellington follow the lovely young woman, and he was sure that he exaggerated his limp. No doubt Ellington would make the best of his situation and dazzle her with his tall stories of heroic duty.
James followed the other woman through to the back of the house. When she arrived in the kitchen, she stoked up the fire. She then took a thick cloak, that had been hanging on a hook by the back door, and wrapped it around her shoulders. 'Come with me; it is not far.'
As she was collecting the key for the door, she turned to him and said, 'I do not believe I have introduced myself. My name is Miss Stanford,' she murmured,' and you also met my sister Miss Cassandra Stanford.'
'Miss Stanford,' he said, bowing his head slightly, 'my name is Major Mitford, and my companion, who you met at the door, is Major Ellington.'
Using the large key, she unlocked the door. It opened onto a small yard that looked deserted. The rain was still falling in torrents from the sky, and she looked warily at the scene that greeted them. She looked at James, and said, 'I think it is better if we run.' And before he could answer, she grabbed her skirt and began to trot daintily across the yard.
The lanterns that they both held did not illuminate much of the path ahead. They ran past some buildings, that looked like they had once been stables, and came towards a small cottage. Miss Stanford ran to the door and knocked loudly. There was no shelter as they stood outside the door, and he could see that she pulled the cloak tightly around herself, in a feeble attempt to halt the penetration of water.
There was no answer. Miss Stanford knocked again, this time with greater urgency. Still no reply. He heard her mutter something under her breath. She banged on the door once more with her fist. This time it opened a fraction.
'What do you want?' a male voice, on the other side, answered curtly. 'I thought I told you I've finished with you and that sister of yours.' He tried to slam the door, but Miss Stanford had lodged her foot between the door and its frame. James saw her wince in pain as the door hit her foot.
'Mr. Millar,' she said, in a loud, clear voice, 'please open the door.' The door opened, and Miss Stanford entered the cottage, closely followed by James. Once she was inside, she put the hood of her cloak down.
The cottage was small but homely. A fire roared in the fireplace, and the delicious aroma of hot food filled the room. It reminded James that he had not eaten since breakfast. This place was very different from the cold, dank hallway he had first met Miss Stanford. The man, who was continuing to glower at her, began to shout. 'I told you,' he said, waving his finger and raising his voice, 'that I wanted nothing more to do with you. I think you should leave. Now!'
Until now, she had been silent. She had just stood in silence, listening to the rant that was obviously directed towards her. James guessed that this was not the first time that he had spoken to her like this. Millar moved towards Miss Stanford, so he stood only inches away from her. With his eyes half opened, he glared at her. James recognised the look he gave her. It was one of hatred and disgust. Slowly, and nervously, she lifted her eyes to meet his glare. Millar spoke again, this time through gritted teeth. 'I told you to leave me alone.' James could see that droplets of the servant's saliva showered her face when he spoke.
James was just about to intervene and tell this man he had no right to speak to a young lady in such a manner. However, Miss Stanford did not give him a chance to do this chivalrous act. After the servant's tirade had subsided, she lifted her chin and drew herself to her full height. Gone was the look of meekness that marred her expression only moments before. Instead, she looked at Millar straight in the eye, and James could not mistake the look of steely determination those hazel eyes now displayed.
'Mr. Millar,' she began in a steady tone, still looking at him directly. 'I have not come for me, or my sister's benefit. You made it perfectly clear, after the funeral, that you would not be working for our family.' She took a moment to compose herself once more. 'I have not come here to request any help for myself. I have come on behalf of a stranger, who has had an accident and requires your help.'
For the first time, since he entered the room, Millar looked over to James. The servant could not mistake the look that James was giving him. It was one that he had practised over the years. The one that said he was in command and was not a man to be crossed. Millar's demeanour immediately changed.
Miss Stanford continued. She was beginning to sound more confident, as she observed the change that this latest information had on Millar's attitude. 'Of course, I will make sure that you are paid in full for your time.' She pulled out her purse and placed some coins on the table. 'I think this will cover any expenses that you and Mrs Millar might incur.' Millar picked up the coins and grunted. She continued, 'this is Major Mitford. The carriage he was travelling in, has broken and is blocking the lane. You can take the gig and help the Major clear the road and retrieve his belongings. And Mrs Millar,' she turned to the woman, who was still sitting by the fire watching the drama unfold, 'you must come to the main house and help me prepare some refreshments for the Major and his travelling companions.' The woman rolled her eyes and slowly got out of the chair.
James had been rather taken aback by Miss Stanford's sudden transformation. She had appeared to be shy when he had first encountered her by the front door. However, as he left her, talking politely but firmly to Mrs Millar, he reflected on her new-found confidence.
Chapter 3
'V,' Cassie whispered, 'are you awake?'
'I suppose I am now,' Verity answered wearily.
'Do you believe in love at first sight?' Cassie whispered as she turned to face her sister.
It was very late. Verity sat up and looked at the clock on her sister's dressing table. 'Cass, it is two o'clock in the morning. Can this not wait?'
It had been a busy night, and the two sisters were now sharing a bedchamber. Verity had spent most of the evening helping Mrs Millar prepare supper, as well as preparing the bedchambers for the two gentlemen. Major Ellington had been allocated their brother's old room, and Major Mitford was in Verity's. She felt guilty leaving her sister alone for such a long time with Major Ellington, but Verity had always thought that her sister, even though she was prone to daydream, was ultimately sensible.
'No,' Cassie answered, 'it cannot.'
Verity looked at her sister in the candlelight. Perhaps it had been a mistake to leave her alone with the handsome officer for so long. She creased her forehead and pursed her lips. 'Why do you want to know?'
Cassie shrugged her shoulders and said, 'I’m just curious.'
Verity put her hand on her sister's arm, 'is it, Major Ellington?'
Cassie turned away, and Verity was convinced that she blushed. 'No, of course not.’ she answered abruptly, 'I was just curious, that is all.'
Verity sighed, 'I do not know, Cass.' How could a spinster, of four and twenty years, advise a young woman on love? Until tonight, Verity had barely spoken to a man, let alone formed a relationship with one. How could she? No one had ever shown any interest in her. Verity thought of her brief conversation with Major Mitford when she had introduced herself to him in the kitchen. After that introduction, they had barely exchanged words.
Verity pondered her sister's question carefully. Maybe if a handsome man, such as Major Mitford, had paid her attention, she could eventually fall in love with him. However, it was late, and she was tired. Verity thought to herself that falling in love instantaneously, however romantic the surroundings, was unl
ikely. 'No Cass, I do not believe in love at first sight.'
'I think you can,' Cassie said, with a sigh, 'fall in love, with just one look.'
Verity, who had been very sleepy, was now wide awake. 'Cass,' she said, with concern, 'are you sure this has nothing to do with Major Ellington?' This time Verity saw her sister's cheeks redden.
'No,' she said, a little too emphatically, 'it is just something I thought of after our conversation earlier.' She stopped and looked at her sister in the eye, 'you remember, the one about marriage.'
Verity was becoming concerned about their conversation. A young woman, barely seventeen, with little experience of the world, should never have been left alone with a man. 'Cass,' Verity said, now sitting up in bed, 'remember what I said to you earlier. Gentlemen, like Major Mitford and Major Ellington, do not marry women like us.' She paused to think of the right words to say to her sister, 'I would imagine that they are younger sons from good families, with very little money of their own. And they have both done their duty, to both their country and their families, by having a military career. Cass, you do not get to be a Major without financial assistance.' Verity paused, took her sister's hand and squeezed it gently. 'If they marry, it will be to a woman with money and position. A woman whose family will be able to help them further their careers. Women like us, with no wealth or connections, can only be a diversion.'
Cassie sat up straight and looked at her sister. 'What do you mean, a diversion?'
Verity felt uncomfortable having this conversation with her sister. It was not as if she had any first-hand knowledge of these type of men, but her young sister needed to know the truth. Verity took a deep breath, as she thought carefully about what to say to Cassie. 'Young, inexperienced women, such as ourselves, are prone to fall in love with the first gentleman, who pays them any attention.' She paused and squeezed her sister's hand once more, 'sometimes inexperienced women can mistake desire for love.'
