Both men exchanged a glance.
“You aren’t related to Mr. Briggs, of Burnley, by chance?” Mr. McCullough asked. “He speaks often of his handsome nieces, but I don’t believe his descriptions do you justice.”
Minerva’s color was slowly coming back. She cleared her throat. “Yes, actually. We’re expecting a coach from him any day.”
“I’m afraid you’ll be waiting for quite some time. Your uncle is out of the country.”
Minerva gasped at hearing Mr. Howarth’s cold words. The sound was so soft I don’t know that either of the men could have heard her.
“Do you know when he is expected to return?” I asked, when it seemed that Minerva couldn’t find her voice.
“No, Miss Briggs.” Mr. McCullough looked apologetic. “I believe he had some urgent business to attend to.”
Minerva’s hand on my arm shook. A surge of protectiveness for this ancestor made me step in front of her. “If you would be so kind as to pay for the service rendered, Mr. Howarth. Then you may be on your way to your business appointment.”
He knew that my words were meant as a dismissal. I could see it in the sharpening of his gaze, the tightening of his mouth. Without a word, he tucked a coin into my hand. I resisted the urge to look down at it. I wouldn’t know its value anyway, so I could only pray that he hadn’t cheated me. His glittering eyes held mine for a second too long before he turned to his cousin. “Come, Tristan.”
I turned back to Minerva, who still trembled. “At least we can eat today.”
She didn’t look at the coin I extended to her, instead staring off into space. “I cannot believe…”
“That I shod a horse? Look, Minnie, I’m not who you think I am.”
She didn’t move. “They are still outside. I can hear the horses stamping.”
It grew silent and I could hear the men’s voices. They were muffled and I couldn’t make out the words, but one voice raised louder than the other.
A moment later, they both reentered. Mr. Howarth stood with rigid posture, his jaw clenched. Mr. McCullough wore a strained smile, but when he spoke he sounded almost jovial.
“My cousin agrees that we cannot leave the dear nieces of our family friend in these dire straights. We must insist you accompany us to Howarth Park until your uncle returns.”
Chapter 4
Travel in the nineteenth century was slow and tedious. Coaches weren’t really meant for comfort. Most of all, “road” was a four-letter word.
I’d given up on sleep after the umpteenth time that the jostling of the coach knocked my head into its wall. I’d gone to the floor twice, each time struggling back to my seat with help from Ruth, who sat next to me. Minerva, leaning against the opposite corner of the coach, was either a heavy sleeper or pretending not to notice my discomfort.
I stared out the window, feeling as if we’d been traveling for days, though I knew it to be only hours. None of my pleading could convince Minerva to stay at the cottage, once the men made up their minds. Actually, she seemed relieved.
Frantically, I tried everything I could think of to get back home, but no matter how many times I stepped through the garden gate, nothing happened. Finally, I’d been forced to give up when Ruth came for me and escorted me to the waiting coach.
The men rode horseback in front, and I desperately wished for the chance to join them, instead of enduring this torture inside.
Now Ruth looked at me strangely, her eyebrows drawn together in concern. “Miss Matilda, are you ill?” she whispered.
“No.”
“You seem… different.”
I sighed. What could it hurt to tell her? “You’ll probably think I’m crazy, but I’m not the Matilda you think I am.”
Her eyes widened as I told my story. At the end, I sat back and waited for her to say something. And waited.
“I don’t know how to believe you, miss.” She glanced across to Minerva, as if her hushed voice might waken the other woman. “I’ve never heard anything of the like before.”
“It’s the truth.”
“Miss Matilda—”
“Mattie.”
“Miss Mattie, are you sure this isn’t about the scandals? A way to escape them?”
All of a sudden it became hard to breathe. “What scandals?”
Her eyes scanned my face. Looking for what? Her browns were drawn down in concern. “Perhaps it is not my place to say, miss.”
“Please, Ruth. I think I need to know.”
When she spoke, her face reflected just how earnest she was. “You were engaged to be married. Mr. – ah, the man was found with…” Her words slowed and once again she glanced across to where Minerva slept. I didn’t think my sister had so much as twitched but perhaps Ruth was afraid of reprisal for speaking so freely if she woke up. She continued in almost a whisper. “He was found with another woman. In a compromising situation.”
I covered my face with my hands to hide the sudden moisture in my eyes. She touched my shoulder gently. I couldn’t find the breath to speak. Something thudded in my ears, blocking out all other sounds. I realized it was my heart.
“I-I’m okay,” I lied, forcing my words through stiff lips. I placed my hands in my lap, wound my fingers together. I didn’t look at her, afraid she’d know that I wasn’t telling the truth. “I just need to think through this.” I turned my face to the carriage window and pretended to watch the passing scenery, though I couldn’t see anything through the tears that blurred my vision.
Slowly, I regained control of my rioting emotions. With each trembling breath I took, I fought against the voices that whispered “you’re not good enough” and “no one will ever love you.”
God, why? I didn’t understand why a loving God would let this happen to me. Sure, I hadn’t expected to be over Jared so soon, but hearing Ruth’s tale and knowing that I – well, really, my ancestor – had been betrayed as well fanned my own pain into a burning that sat in the pit of my stomach.
A long time passed before I felt that I could speak again. When I chanced to look, Ruth watched me with tears in her eyes. “I’m so sorry, miss.”
“You said scandals, plural.”
She bit her bottom lip, clearly distressed. “You should talk to your sister. I am just a maid, after all.”
I took her hand in mine and squeezed it. “Something inside tells me that you are more a part of this family than you know. Please tell me.”
Her eyes fell to our clasped hands. “After the… first scandal… your father changed. He became angry and withdrawn. It is rumored that he gambled away t’living your uncle gave him. And that his creditors caused his death.”
I didn’t know how to process this additional hurt. I would have loved to know a father figure, having only Aunt Donna since my tenth birthday. Obviously Minerva still mourned both situations, too.
Before I could formulate something else to say, the coach slowed and a look out the window confirmed that we were arriving at a gorgeous mansion of white stone. Minerva roused with a start. I gripped Ruth’s forearm.
“I need you to help me,” I whispered, knowing our time was running out.
She hesitated.
“Minerva will be upset if I make any more mistakes, won’t she?”
She nodded, biting her lip again.
“Then I need you to tell me how to act, what to do. I’ll never make it long enough to find a way back home if you don’t.”
She agreed in a muted voice. Our discussion was over.
I’d never been so happy to arrive at a destination, not even at my arrival in Manchester after all the flight delays. The coach door opened and Mr. McCullough was there to hand us down. I stood and stretched, admiring the sun setting in a beautiful haze while he handed out Minerva and then Ruth.
Somehow Ruth managed to miss the step and fall into Tristan's chest. He steadied her, looking directly into her face for the briefest of moments, before setting her on her feet. She cleared her throat nervously and attempted to s
traighten her dress. Poor girl. I knew just how she felt. I had a tendency to be clumsy at the most inopportune times.
As the group moved away, I pulled myself from the sunset and turned to take a full view of Howarth Park. The mansion’s many windows reflected the last light of the day. Two wings, one on each side, flowed from the main part of the house. The grounds were impeccable, with sculpted shrubs and trees interspersing a lawn that stretched as far as the eye could see.
It was beautiful. And I was going to stick out like a sore thumb.
We climbed the stone stairs and Ruth slipped away with another girl. Andrew waited on the top step, looking imposing with his stormy brow and dark features. “My parents wait to greet you in the parlor.” His glance skittered over me, not landing. I thought he seemed irritated, judging by the set of his jaw.
Nervous now, I trailed the two men and Minerva through cool corridors, hurrying to keep up with Andrew’s long gait. I studied the back of his head, ignoring the no doubt fine furnishings that surrounded us. I wouldn’t know how to properly admire them, not being a history buff like my aunt.
Instead, I noted Andrew's hair that curled just a bit above his collar. When he turned a corner, I glimpsed his profile for just a second, with the jaw that so enamored me at our first meeting.
We neared the end of the hallway. A young man wearing knee breaches, a starched shirt and velvet jacket stood at attention and opened the double doors for us.
Inside the room, a man and woman both rose from their stuffed chairs near the fireplace. The man could have been Andrew in twenty years, with the same tall build and only a few gray hairs interspersing his dark locks. The woman was of average height, slender, with a ready smile, though she was a bit pale. Her dark hair coiled into a braid that wound around the back of her head.
As the introductions were made, another set of double doors across the room burst open and two young women appeared. “Tristan!” “Andrew!” Their voices rang out at the same time before their father cleared his voice.
“Sorry, papa,” the taller of the two looked contrite for a moment but then grinned at her brother and cousin. “It’s just that we could not wait to hear all about Andrew’s trip to Manchester.”
The second girl, whose red hair favored Tristan more than any other family member, stared openly at me. “We didn’t realize we had guests.”
Andrew introduced the girls by their first names. Anna, seventeen, informed us she’d been dying for some female companionship. Her brother nudged her but she only gave him an impertinent grin and hugged his waist.
Ella, thirteen, seemed a bit shy and didn’t speak to myself or Minerva directly. She, too, accepted an embrace from her brother.
Overwhelmed by the long carriage ride and the things I’d learned from Ruth, I was content to take a seat in the corner and sip the tea that was handed to me.
Andrew sat opposite me on a long sofa, flanked by his sisters. Anna whispered something to him and their dark heads bent close together as they conferred.
I looked down into my teacup. I'd rather analyze the murky liquid than give him the satisfaction of glancing up to find me watching him.
Plus, I was having a hard time watching him interact with his sister. The easy camaraderie they obviously was something I dearly missed from my growing up years. And something that it appeared Minnie and I didn’t have.
I did my best to stay out of the conversation, letting it flow around me. Tristan addressed Minerva several times, each time eliciting a murmured response and a blush.
Andrew did not speak to either of us. I wondered if he still seethed, as he had done when Tristan informed us that we would be returning to Howarth Park with the men. Was he angry that we had interrupted his planned errand, or for another reason?
The little gathering broke up soon enough and a maid appeared to take Minerva and me to the room we would share. I found myself dawdling in the hallway, taking in the marble busts and portraits that I hadn’t noticed on the way in. A portrait of Andrew, in particular, caught my eye and I paused to study it. The painter hadn’t done justice to his fine features, but they had managed to capture his intense eyes.
When I looked up again, I realized I was alone in the hallway, and that I didn’t know the way to my room. I started off in the direction I thought Minerva and the maid had gone, but I hadn’t gone far when the sound of voices stopped me. I recognized Andrew’s baritone easily.
“I don’t like it.”
“What would you have rather done, left them there? You know as well as I that the Briggs girls need a chaperone until their uncle can claim them.”
I moved away from the open doorway, not intending to eavesdrop, until Andrew’s answer froze my feet to the floor. I concealed myself the best I could behind a large potted plant.
“Yes.”
“I do not understand your cruel attitude.”
“Let me enlighten you, then, cousin. I do not wish our family name tied to theirs in any way. Their uncle is a swindler—”
“Why, because he owns a few mills?”
“Nay, I have other reasons to think so. Not to mention the scandals that surround those two women.”
“Rumors, that’s all they are.”
“Perhaps. You know that our neighbors will talk, and I cannot stand to think that my name could be tied to that pair of bluestockings. Why, I’ve heard that the eldest Miss Briggs took over her father’s affairs after his death. And the youngest – she thought to shoe my horse!”
I stifled the gasp that rose in my throat.
“And did a right fine job of it, if I do say so.”
“I’ll let my own farrier decide that in the morning. I do not want to be bothered with either Miss Briggs and I advise you to stay away from them as well.”
Chapter 5
I found out that proper ladies don’t deal in business or work with their hands, except for needlework or sketching. They don't make their own decisions. Most of all, proper ladies never do anything fun. Whatsoever.
After three dreary, rainy days of needlepoint, reading and playing the pianoforte – or should I say, knotted threads, napping and missed notes – the sun finally came out. I wheedled until Anna and Ella agreed to play a game of cricket with me. I didn’t know the rules, but I wasn’t going to let that technicality stop me from having some fun.
Minnie refused to play with us. She and I still weren’t on speaking terms, and I’d been unable to pump any more details about our situation from Ruth. Well, there was no way I was going to let my sister and her black mood ruin this gorgeous day.
The girls spent a quarter of an hour explaining the finer points of hitting the ball and the purposes of the wickets. I’d never seen a bat like the one they used, with its round handle and flat head. We couldn’t play a real game with only three players, but Ella insisted we could practice batting and bowling.
I watched as Anna, with her tongue sticking out the side of her mouth in concentration, smacked the ball so that it sailed clean over my head. “Andrew is a terribly good catch, you know.”
Huh? Where had that thought come from?
“I dare say he doesn’t intend to be caught,” Ella chimed in, as she trotted after the ball. “I once heard him tell Tristan that he won’t marry at least until his thirtieth birthday.”
Anna made a sound that sounded close to a snort. She didn’t believe her sister? “That is five years from now. Much can happen during that period of time.” She winked at me. “And I think I know who could change his mind.”
Heat climbed my neck and into my face. It definitely wasn't from the sun. “I know you’re not talking about me. Believe me when I say that neither one of us are interested in the other.” The conversation between Andrew and Tristan I’d overheard the other night came to mind, increasing the warmth in my face. To think that I’d actually been attracted to that…that snob.
“You haven't seen the way he looks at you when you aren't watching.”
Ella stood up from her c
rouch, holding the red ball triumphantly above her head. “He does?”
I shook my head, vehemence clenching my teeth together. Anna’s eyes danced anyway.
“Your sister is making that up.” And even if she wasn’t, it didn’t matter to me. So far, I hadn’t told anyone of my plans to show up Andrew. I didn’t even really have a plan yet, just a fierce desire to best him at something and break his arrogant spirit.
Ella shrugged and prepared to throw the ball to her sister again. “We shall find out for sure at mother’s ball. Andrew hates dancing. If he is indifferent, he won’t dance with you. If he does…”
Anna nearly squealed. Oooh, brother. The upcoming dance seemed to be the only thing she wanted to talk about. “I cannot believe we've only a fortnight until it is here!”
This was her third ball, and she was convinced that a certain Mr. Wentworth, of a neighboring town, liked her. She was sure that he would ask her to dance at least twice.
She gave the ball a hearty whack, and it veered to my right. To avoid the gushing conversation that I knew was about to begin, I walked briskly away to fetch it.
As I scanned the grass for the red object, a shouted “hah!” carried on the wind and perked my ears. I looked up to see a rider galloping across the moor, his jacket flapping open behind him.
Andrew. His silhouette gave him away. He rode the gelding in an all out run. Faulty shoe, indeed. His horse seemed to be doing exceedingly well, considering that it led several lengths ahead of a black horse and its rider. I didn’t think Tristan rode the other horse, judging by the width of the man or his hair color.
Anna joined me in watching the two men race across the green landscape. Each horse kicked up chunks of rich brown earth. My breath caught in my throat as they jumped one of the stone fences that crisscrossed the green land, then another. Finally, they pulled up where the moor and horizon met, near a church with its spire pointing toward the sky.
“Andrew trounced him.” Anna’s voice rang with satisfaction at my elbow.
Happily Ever Afters Guaranteed Page 10
