Music Master

by Barbara Miller

  “Not my place. Here’s your tea. I’ve added a dollop of brandy to it for taste.”

  “Thank you, Cook. You are a lifesaver.” Leighton took a tentative sip but the brandy had cooled it so that it was drinkable and he took a long slow swallow, feeling some immediate relief in his throat. “I offered for Maddie and he refused me. Why?”

  The old woman froze, the hitch in her usually graceful movements apparent to even the feverish Leighton. Now why would that surprise her?

  “Constance Madeline. A good girl, that one. Always out and looking after the sick. Many’s the time she has come to me for herbs. And never a thought for herself.”

  “You are evading the question. Why would he refuse me?”

  The old woman swallowed and sat on the bench beside him. “There was bad blood between him and your father. He wants nothing to do with the Stones and I wager he resents drawing his living from you.”

  “But why? What could Father have done to him?”

  “That I cannot say.”

  Leighton stared at her and it was the one time she did not look him in the eye.

  He took another slow sip of tea and felt some strength coming back into him. But perhaps it was only the brandy. “Could Vicar Westlake have…murdered his wife?”

  Cook jumped and glared at him. “What the devil brought that on?”

  “Maddie was never allowed to see her.”

  “Mrs. Westlake died of the fever. Now drink that before you pass off the same route.” She jumped up to bring him pillows and a blanket.

  Leighton had several coughing fits during the night, as he slept at the table in the kitchen, leaning on a pillow. But he survived it with Cook several times changing the aromatic poultice that seemed to penetrate from his chest to his backbone. By morning he felt like living and more than ever like finding Maddie.

  His appearance at the breakfast table would have been enough to throw the rest of the household into fidgets and admonishments to get back to bed. But his announcement that he meant to leave for a week had his sister and mother talking at once in their attempts to dissuade him. He calmly drank his coffee and ate his meal, amazed that he was now able to tune them out so effectively. Perhaps his ears were just stuffed.

  When Malcolm ignored Leighton’s instructions to pack his gear, Leighton began the job. He was used to looking out for himself now. He even carried the valises to the stable and when Nat seemed reluctant to obey him, began saddling Chandros himself. He saddled Jasper too, so he could use him as a pack animal. It would be like an expedition into Spain. Finally he led the horses out into the courtyard and mounted.

  He saw Susan disappear from the hall window and his mother ran out of the house before he had gotten to the gate.

  “But where are you going in this condition?” she demanded, dropping her shawl and wringing her hands. Susan followed her out of the house and helplessly picked up the garment.

  He thought about telling her the truth but decided against it. “To get myself better.”

  “But you can recover here, where we can take care of you.”

  “If you smother me with quilts and a smoking fireplace, that is not likely to happen soon. The cold leaves much sooner if I move about and breathe clean air.”

  “You know nothing about it. Now stop this nonsense and get back to bed.”

  Cook came shuffling out in her broken shoes and handed him a tin of herbs and a flask of hot tea. He thanked her for his life—again—and waved goodbye to his mother and sister.

  “But where are you going?” Susan called. “To London?”

  He smiled and shook his head as he waved to her. He felt a wonderful lightness about him but that might have been the fever working. He was going on a quest to find Maddie and the less he said about that in front of his mother the better.

  “But when will you be back?” his mother shouted.

  “As soon as you have the chimneys cleaned.” That would hold her for a good long while.

  He trotted the horses down the drive with a sigh of relief. He had escaped. Why had that been so hard to accomplish? Because he had far rather stay at Longbridge, which he loved. But not with his mother thwarting him at every turn. He would have been better off leaving the bridge work for drier weather. But he was a creature of duty and knew he had to finish the bridge or feel the guilt of it. To hell with duty now. He would let nothing else get in the way of finding his future wife.

  Chapter Six

  Maddie stared across at her eldest sister, a respectable widow now and something of a personage in Bath. Patience Carter sat at the breakfast table having her first tea of the day at nine in the morning, whereas Maddie had been up at seven, walked the dog in the garden, read several chapters of a novel and started a letter.

  She crumbled her muffin on her plate and, catching the lapdog’s eager movement out of the corner of her eye, coyly dropped a chunk of it on the carpet.

  Patience looked up from her newspaper, regarding her sister over her pince-nez.

  “Guess what I saw on our walk,” Maddie demanded to distract her from the dog.

  “I cannot imagine. Did you stay in the garden as I asked?”

  “Yes of course, though it is a small garden. I saw a man in a purple coat.”

  “Purple or lavender?”

  “It makes no odds. He was still absurd.”

  “Was he using a walking stick and leading a little pug?”

  “Yes, do you know him?”

  “He’s one of Bath’s oddities. We have many. In fact you can be as eccentric as you like here and people will just accept it. You should fit right in.”

  “I am an oddity, then,” Maddie concluded. “I always suspected as much.”

  “Don’t change. Be yourself. You will be a novelty. So long as you dress in good taste and do not obviously flout any conventions, you will be accepted for my sake.”

  “But why can’t I go for a walk? One of the maids could come with me.”

  “Not until we have you attired in one of the dresses being made for you. Then I shall take you to the Pump Room. We are going to have such fun this season, Maddie.”

  “If you say so.” Maddie did not care about the new dresses that were being sewn or the Pump Room. Leighton had not come for her, had not even tried to contact her by mail. So he did not care after all. And when that became obvious to her father, he would send for her and expect her to come back to the vicarage.

  “We’ll visit my dressmaker first this morning and with any luck make your debut at the Pump Room this afternoon.”

  “But why go to the Pump Room? You said the water is foul.”

  “To be seen. I know Papa asked me to find you a situation but there is no need. I have plenty of money and with your looks, we can find you a husband instead.”

  “But I do not want a husband.”

  Patience threw the newspaper aside. “Why did he send you to me? You have not done anything to disgrace yourself?”

  “What did he say in his letter?”

  “That you were about to make a misalliance. Who is he, Maddie? Not the ploughman.”

  “No. Leighton asked me to marry him.”

  Patience sat back and nervously looked out the window. “Leighton, the Earl of Longbridge.”

  “Yes, of course. You know Leighton. He is not stuffy and never acts like he considers himself better than one of us.”

  “But, you see, Papa dislikes the whole family. Believe me, it is better that I find someone else for you.”

  “I suppose it does not matter. Leighton cannot really have been interested.” She pressed her lips together and fought back the tears. It got easier every time she managed it.

  Patience reached across and patted her hand. “Go, get your shawl. A new dress will fix that frown.”

  Maddie turned and trudged from the room. No point in telling Patience how she felt and none at all in dragging her generous sister down into her black mood with her. But after the rejection by Leighton, whom she loved, she was
not about to get entangled with any other man.

  Maddie had been in Bath almost two weeks and Leighton had not written to her. The thought that all her letters, at least three a week, had been misdirected was hard to swallow. She had expected too much of him. His mother had prevailed after all.

  By his own admission, Leighton had been little more than a clerk in London, however intrepid he’d been as a boy. She had found it hard to write those letters, including the one that lay unfinished in her room this morning, for they all sounded so needy. And she was tired of being the needy one, tired of taking his money and dispensing it to his dependents. She wanted to do something for herself.

  Staying at the vicarage had been hard but at least she had been useful. Here there was nothing for her to do except walk the dog, read books from the circulating library, or relay her sister’s orders to the servants. She felt bored and worthless and she worried in her odd moments about Mrs. Horwith and the others.

  She tried not to think about Leighton at all, for if she did she cried into her tea in a distressing way. He was not coming and that was that. So she would make a new life for herself but she would never go back to the vicarage. On that she was determined. If not for the interference of her father, she would have married Leighton and never had to know how weak-willed he was. As for his mother, Maddie knew she would have had no problem dealing with her. She handled difficult people all the time, or she used to.

  * * * * *

  Leighton left Chandros and Jasper at the hotel stable in the hands of an admiring and competent groom. He had chosen Prad’s Hotel, even though it was out of the way near the river, because it did have a stable. Besides, the walk to and from the center of town would do him good.

  He was about to shoulder his valises when the head lad snapped his fingers and motioned for an hostler to carry his bags around front. As Leighton expected, they did have a room for him. Had he not had a coughing fit in the lobby, Leighton might have been unable to convince the desk clerk that such a strapping young man as himself had come to Bath for his health. He wrote out a request to his man Tibbs in London to ship only his books to Longbridge but to bring the rest of his gear to Bath. The clerk said he would see that the message was sent by express rider. Leighton was granted apartments on the second floor overlooking a courtyard garden with a tinkling fountain and lily pool.

  He paced the spacious room as the footman set out his shaving gear and hung his coats, setting aside those which would require pressing because of Leighton’s hasty packing.

  “What is your name?”

  “Raymond, sir.”

  “Perhaps you can help me. I have to find someone but I know only her maiden name. What advice can you give me?”

  “Was she married in Bath?” the fellow asked.

  “Yes, I believe so.”

  “Then perhaps the church registers would have something.”

  “Churches, there must be dozens of them. I’d run myself silly.”

  Raymond bowed and nodded at the same time with an almost military click of his heels. “It might take a day unless luck is with you.”

  “Would you be willing to look?”

  “Certainly.”

  “Patience Westlake,” Leighton said, handing the man a guinea. “She married a merchant about five years ago. But I cannot remember his name.”

  “Very good, sir,” Raymond said with a knowing look as he pocketed the coin and turned to go.

  It occurred to Leighton that he ought to correct the man’s impression that he was here for a tryst but he was really too tired to bother. As soon as the room was empty, he threw himself down on the bed and let his tired muscles unclench.

  When he had left Longbridge Keep, he’d ridden straight to Ross and Lucy’s house to make arrangements for taking care of his dependents and to ask if his sister could remember where Patience resided in Bath. She could not help him, so he cautioned them both to say nothing of where he was going. Sadly he had forgotten to ask her Patience’s married name. Perhaps she didn’t recall it either.

  That was why he had not written to Maddie in care of her sisters. He did not have their direction or even their last names. Perhaps he should not have ignored his mother so often when she was reading him the notices in the paper over the breakfast table.

  He’d ridden straight through Hereford, then pushed on to Gloucester before stopping for the night. He’d meant to get to Bath yesterday but had put up at Chipping Sodbury when he realized he was falling asleep on his horse’s back. It was better to arrive here in the daytime. The footman would spend his dinner hour locating Patience and Leighton could call this afternoon.

  * * * * *

  A coughing fit woke him a few hours later and he knew he must walk to clear his lungs again. He finished the potent contents of Cook’s flask and changed his cravat. The scratches on his face were now visible only as two slight red scars, which lent him an air of mystery. Catch him again telling anyone a cat did it. He would claim it was an angry woman.

  He was beginning to feel better already. As he ran down the stairs, a momentary dizziness brought him up short. He grabbed the banister and passed a hand across his forehead but no fever remained. Probably just fatigue. He wandered into the dining room but was told they were done serving luncheon. All he wanted was a brandy and water. The waiter suggested either the card room or the outside tables in the courtyard.

  “Excellent.” Leighton followed the waiter and seated himself in the sun within sight of the fountain. He let his hat shade his head while the sun baked his back. Pulling out his pocket notebook and a pencil, he jotted down what little he knew of Maddie’s relatives. If he had no luck here, he would try York. His mother would expect him to go back to London but would have no idea where to look for him there. Plenty of time to find Maddie.

  It suddenly occurred to him that he would have to explain to Maddie that his mother was not in favor of the match either, though she had given no explanation why. The support of his sisters he was sure of but his mother would not like being displaced by the vicar’s daughter and would most certainly show it.

  It did not matter. He would take the plunge and smooth things over later. Planning was a good idea but not overplanning. He should contrive to get a marriage license and keep it handy in case there might be a time constraint when he did locate Maddie. He had given up by now any thoughts of a normal wedding. Too much confusion anyway, he thought, as he sipped the brandy and water.

  Now that the emergency of the bridge was over, he thought of nothing but Maddie. She had the most intriguing pout. You never knew if she was going to laugh or cry. Perhaps she never knew herself. And yet she had a solidity, a durability that he admired. He would never be walking on eggs to talk to her. And his life would be one delightful surprise after another—well, one surprise after another. Perhaps they would not all be delightful, certainly the dead cat had been a stopper. Yet it would always be exciting. He began to hum and before he knew it was jotting scales and notes on the lined paper. He would have to get some proper printed music paper if this melody was going to haunt him. Access to a pianoforte would be helpful but not essential to composition.

  After he finished his brandy, he left the hotel and wandered toward the Pump Room, reveling in his freedom. He had never enjoyed London or Lisbon so well. There had been the war to deal with. Now he felt contentment rising in him like a satisfying tide. He had been a great help to Scoville and Wellington. They had said so. He had made a good job of the bridge and nothing terrible had happened to the tenants or livestock in Ross’ absence. There would be no more dispatches waiting for him in London, no one asking him to sail off to Spain. Still, much as he enjoyed being footloose, he needed a purpose. Was he using finding Maddie to fill the ache of need he felt when he had no important work to do? He shook his head. No, there was quite another aching need he wanted to satisfy and it had nothing to do with work.

  Suddenly he realized he had needed the success of the bridge after his rout by Vicar West
lake. That episode had been more demoralizing than he liked to admit. At least his tenants thought well of him. The poor opinion of the vicar he could live with. Now he needed Maddie. She was like a treat put off for so long he had almost forgotten the taste of her kisses. That meeting in the lane had brought it all back.

  When he got to the Pump Room, it was crowded and he saw no one there he knew, just a large group of men to one side. After examining the architectural elements of the room as though he was really interested, he went to the fountain and took an incautious sip of the water, then had a coughing fit. Stares of concern focused on him and he felt ridiculously conspicuous.

  Someone pounded him on the back and he turned to discover…Maddie.

  “Leighton. Where did you get such an awful cold?”

  “The river,” he gasped, wondering that their reunion could take such a mundane turn. He was conscious that a group of men was watching them and that Maddie must have deserted them to come to his aid. “Why did you leave without a word?” he asked.

  Her concerned look turned to one of accusation. “But I wrote to you numerous times. Did you get none of my letters? I thought you had forgotten all about me.”

  “Did you think I would not look for you?” Leighton stared at her finery, the empire-waisted, muslin dress, the frivolous parasol and the fetching bonnet.

  “It certainly took you long enough.”

  He swallowed and tried to get some urgency back into the meeting. “Your father cannot stop us from marrying.”

  At mention of her father Maddie looked deflated.

  “I know that, but not why he is so set against it. There is something he has not told me.”

  “But how—”

  Maddie shushed him as a tall woman with pince-nez approached.

  “Leighton Stone,” she said, almost tapping her foot with anger.

  “Patience? You remember me.” Leighton felt himself sweating under the woman’s scrutiny.

  “How could I forget the boy who rode his pony through my line of washing?”

  “No, that was Ross,” he corrected.

  “Well, you were right after him.”