Aimsley.
Chapter 23
A Morning Changes Everything
The next day in Oxfordshire
Barbara awoke slowly to the distant sound of pounding. She remained in her small bed, listening intently to determine what might be making the thumping noise. Certainly no one at the door. This wasn’t a quick succession of knocks, but rather steady, deliberate pounding. Closing her eyes, she tried to recapture the dream that had escaped when she awakened.
Will.
What a vivid dream!
The memory of him holding her against his hard body had her sighing. How many times had she crawled into bed and hoped she would relive the experience of her one night of bliss with Will Slater? How many times had she since cursed that night? Cursed herself? Cursed Will? Cursed him, and then in the next breath, thanked him for giving her a son? If only the other circumstances of her life weren’t so desperate!
There were no more balls and powder for the dueling pistol, and without a bow and arrow or the skills to use them, she had no hope of shooting any game for meat. It would be a month or more before the first vegetables would be ready in her meager garden. The few pence she had left from selling the horse might buy some eggs and enough provisions for a week, but then what?
Although her sewing skills were adequate, there were far better seamstresses to be found in Broadwell and nearby Langford. No one required a laundress or a maid in these parts. Even the public house had enough employees to service the small clientele.
“Unless you want to be spreadin’ your legs for the unmarried menfolk, I’ve got no work for you,” Susan had said when she last paid a call on the proprietor of The Five Bells.
Barbara Higgins refused politely and thanked the woman for her time. As the daughter of an earl, she had no intention of turning to prostitution to make her way in life. She would starve first, she decided.
Hunger pangs finally had Barbara sitting up in bed, which is when she noticed her state of dress.
Or rather, undress.
She was stunned to find she wore only her chemise. Her other garments had been carefully folded and placed on the chair under the window. A moment later, her face was in her hands as she remembered why her dream of Will had been so vivid.
He was here.
She glanced about the room again, turned on the bed to look for evidence he had lain with her. But the linens were only slightly mussed, and the counterpane was neatly folded at the bottom of the bed.
Barbara moved to the chair and began dressing, startled when she found her corset laced up. Hadn’t Will undone all the laces the night before? Or had she dreamed that? She buttoned up her gown as far as she could, intending to ask Donald to finish the job as she usually did.
Stepping out of her room, she peeked into her son’s room to find him still asleep despite the return of the pounding sound. The smell of coffee filled the front room of the cottage, an odor so unexpected she actually stopped in her tracks to inhale deeply. A quick glance into the pot on the stove found it nearly full. Another pot contained at least two servings of porridge.
Breakfast!
She quickly pulled down a wooden bowl from the shelf and paused as she realized the pot of warm water for doing dishes had been emptied and refilled with clean water. The plates from the night’s dinner had been washed and replaced on the shelf. Even the settle had been wiped clean of crumbs from the night before.
Filling the bowl with porridge, she was about to sit down to eat when the door opened. Startled at first, she moved to stand up and then simply stared at the man who was regarding her with a grin.
“I apologize for making so much noise,” Will said as he moved toward her.
Barbara continued to stare at him. “Where did you find the porridge? I... I thought it was all gone.”
Will hesitated before giving her a nod. “It was. I brought some with me.” He shook his head. “Actually, I was forced to bring along some food by the cook at Devonville House. She was quite insistent that there wouldn’t be anything to eat in all of Oxfordshire,” he explained as he joined her at the settle.
“You’ll have to tell her she was right when you go back,” Barbara replied with a wan smile.
Will leaned over and kissed her on the temple. “I’ll take you to town later today. We’ll need to get enough food to last until we head for London.”
Barbara straightened and regarded him blankly. “I’m not going to London,” she stated with a shake of her head.
A bit taken aback by her response, Will stilled himself. “Well, not today, of course. Probably not for a week or so. I still have to arrange transportation—”
“I’m not going back to London,” Barbara repeated, and then returned to eating her porridge.
Will considered her words and decided it would do good to argue the point so early in the morning. “When may I take you shopping then?” he asked. “If you’re not going to London, you’ll certainly need to fill your pantry.”
He had her there, she knew. “We have to take Donald, too,” she murmured. “I cannot leave him alone.”
“Of course,” Will agreed. “I couldn’t find a gig in the back. And where’s the horse? I can tell there was one—”
“I sold him. We needed the money for food,” she interrupted. “Horses are expensive. And we never had a gig. I just... walk when I need to go to the village.”
Slumping at her words, Will frowned. “Barb,” he sighed, disappointment evident in his voice. He took a deep breath and let it out.
“What were you building?” she asked, realizing their conversation was as frustrating for him as it was for her. Better to change the subject and hope he didn’t bring up London again.
“Rebuilding, actually. The shed for the horse,” he replied as he stood up. “And the roof on this place when I get to it later today. I don’t know how long the repair will hold, but you shouldn’t have need of more than one bucket during the next rain.” He filled a mug with coffee. “Would you like some?” he asked as he held out the steaming cup in her direction.
Barbara angled her head. “Yes. I’ve no sugar or milk, though,” she said with a shake of her head.
“I didn’t make it too strong,” Will said as he gave her the mug. “We usually didn’t have sugar or milk on the ship, either.”
Barbara frowned. “You had to make your own coffee on your ship?” she asked in surprise. “Did you have to make the repairs, as well?” she teased. The grin on her face was the first hint of humor she had shown since Will’s arrival.
“Sometimes. Usually the cook would make coffee, but he tended to forget there was no sugar or milk,” he explained with an expression of amusement on his face. He sobered a bit. “I’m nearly finished out back. I just came in for coffee,” he said as he stood up. “Come join me? It’s a beautiful morning.”
Finished with her porridge, Barbara considered the invitation. “I suppose, but...” She turned so her back was to him. “Can you do up the last few buttons?”
Setting his mug on the table, Will grinned. “You’ll make a lady’s maid out of me yet,” he murmured as he moved to fasten the buttons. When he finished, he lowered his head so he could kiss the nape of her neck.
Closing her eyes, Barbara allowed a small sigh. Is this how mornings could be if Will was in them? She was reminded of her dream from the night before.
A dream?
Or had he really held her in his arms as she slept?
“I do hope I didn’t crowd you too badly in the bed last night,” he whispered, his lips nipping her earlobe.
Barbara whirled around in his arms, her eyes wide. “So... you were there?”
Will glanced off to one side. “There really wasn’t anywhere else to sleep, and I just wanted to—”
“Did you...?” She stopped and tried to calm herself, realizing he couldn’t have done anything untoward.
“I just held you. I... promise, I did nothing more,” he murmured. He paused a moment. “Well, I might
have...” He reached out with a hand and pantomimed holding one of her breasts. “And I think I kissed you a few times. But I promise, I did nothing more,” he claimed with a shake of his head. When he saw her look of shock, he added, “I admit, I wanted to do more, but I was afraid I might end up being shot if I did.”
Barbara blinked, feeling the indignation fall away as she allowed a wan smile to show. “Donald couldn’t have shot you if he wanted to. There aren’t any more bullets,” she whispered.
Will lowered his head so their foreheads touched. “Well, that’s a bit of a relief,” he replied. “I do not think I could abide being shot by my own son.”
Taking her by the hand, Will led her out the door and around to the back of the cottage. The timbers of the old shed and been erected to form a loafing shed in which Thunderbolt stood helping himself to a pile of old hay. His saddle and tack hung from a couple of nails. “I’ll work on the cottage door next,” Will said as he finished his cup of coffee.
“Donald and I were going to do that today before his lessons,” Barbara said, a look of relief crossing her face. “But I have a feeling your repair will last longer.”
Will gave her a nod. “By the way, how far away is Bampton?”
Barbara allowed a shrug. “Four, maybe five miles,” she replied, pointing east.
Not as far as I thought it might be, Will thought with some relief. “And the Gisborn lands?”
At the mention of Gisborn, Barbara regarded Will with suspicion. “A bit closer,” she replied carefully. “Why do you ask?”
The earl gave her a wry grin. “I am thinking it’s time we paid a call on my sister is all,” he responded.
“Lady Hannah?” Barbara guessed, frowning as she said the name. At Will’s nod, Barbara continued frowning. “Why would your sister be anywhere near that old fart of an earl?” she asked, not apologizing for her language.
Will seemed surprised by the question, wondering if perhaps his father’s assessment of Lord Gisborn’s age might have been a bit off in the telling. “She’s actually Lady Gisborn now, which means she’s married to that old fart of an earl,” he replied lightly. His frown suddenly matched Barbara. “Wait. Just how old is the Earl of Gisborn?”
Barbara finally allowed a shrug, realizing her assessment of the earl’s age was merely due to the comments she had heard about the man whilst she was in Broadwell. “I’ve no idea, really,” she replied. “I’ve heard reports that he is a miser and a...” She paused, her face taking on more color than Will had seen on it since his arrival. “Well, he’s not a very well-liked man.”
Will angled his head, thinking perhaps Barbara had the current earl confused with the late earl. That man’s reputation had been rather unflattering, but he didn’t know how much of it was shared by Hannah’s husband.
“Hannah seems rather enamored of the man,” he commented. “But I am thinking we should probably find out for ourselves.”
Barbara blinked, wondering what Will had in mind. “Do you mean to pay a call on Gisborn Hall? Today?” she asked, thinking he would take his leave and be gone from her life for good. The thought had her feeling a bit of relief. Now that he had seen what a cake she had made of her life, seen that she had an illegitimate child and no means to support herself, he would simply excuse himself and ride off. But a feeling of loss settled over her just as quickly. Should Will Slater leave her, never to return, she knew she would have nothing to look forward to for the rest of her life. Nothing on which to hold any hope. She might have cursed him for what she had done all those years ago, but she didn’t hate him for it. She had Donald because of what she had done.
“Well, tomorrow, actually,” Will replied with a nod. “I still have some work to do on the roof, and you said something about Donald’s lessons.”
Barbara considered his words, finally allowing a shrug.
“If it’s only four miles, we can be there in less than an hour...” Will explained. At her widened eyes and remembering Donald might not be able to walk as fast as the adults could, he quickly amended his estimate. “Under two hours.”
Barbara shook her head. “We?” she repeated.
Will blinked, looking as if he’d been slapped across the face. “Yes,” he hedged. “I’m not about to leave you. I just found you,” he said as he leaned over and gave her a kiss on her forehead. “Besides, I want to meet my brother-in-law, and I want to introduce you to my sister.”
It was Barbara’s turn to blink when she heard Will’s words. “How do you intend to introduce me?” she asked in alarm.
Will shrugged. “As my betrothed, of course,” he replied, as if eight years hadn’t passed since the last time they spoke of marriage and a life together.
“Are you.... are you sure this is a good idea?” she wondered, her brows furrowed with worry. How would he explain Donald?
Will considered her words and gave a shrug. “I guess we’ll find out tomorrow.”
Chapter 24
An Aunt and an Uncle Wonder About a Niece
Back in London...
Mildred Regan watched from the front window of the townhouse as her niece, Victoria, stepped up and into a hackney. She knew she really should have joined the young woman for the performance at Drury Lane Theatre, but she had seen The Merchant of Venice too many times, and the thought of attending without her husband was a bit frightening. The theatre held over three-thousand people! Even in the company of her niece, Mildred knew she would feel panicked in the midst of so many.
Besides, Victoria was old enough, Mildred thought. She looked even older given the gowns her mother’s modiste had created for her before Victoria made her way to London. The fabrics, luxurious silks, fine lawn, satin and tulle, had been made into designs from the latest La Belle Assemblée, the stitching exquisite. Not a single gown was white, which given Victoria’s pale blonde hair and silver-gray eyes, was a blessing. The poor girl would have looked entirely washed out in virginal white.
Mildred’s husband, Anthony Regan, was off on one his trips to the village of Kirdford in Sussex, spending a few weeks with his brother, William, to help the medical doctor set up a new clinic. Joshua Wainwright, Duke of Chichester, had provided the funds for the new building as well as the equipment and supplies Anthony was delivering, claiming he wanted his dukedom to have the very best medical facility. Mildred was fairly sure it was only because the Duchess of Chichester was expecting another baby that had the duke spending so much on the venture.
Although Anthony could have sent one of his many clerks to accompany the shipment of equipment, Mildred didn’t begrudge her husband the trip—encouraged him to take it, in fact. “I rather doubt you’re going to relish another woman in the house, especially one on the hunt for a husband.”
The man allowed a shrug. “Why ever not? She’s got a good head on her shoulders. Hopefully some young buck will take notice and make an offer for her hand. She’s not getting any younger.” This last was said with an arched eyebrow, an admonishment, perhaps, that Mildred’s sister, Alexandra, had waited far too long to send Victoria to London in search of a husband.
Victoria would be three-and-twenty in a few days, after all.
Mildred crossed her arms and gave her husband a quelling glance. “Have you forgotten already?” she countered with an arched eyebrow.
Her husband gave her a frown before realization dawned. Their own daughter, now married and living in Kent with a law clerk, had endured two Seasons of heartbreak, tears, and temper tantrums before accepting an offer of marriage. “Oh, how could have I forgotten?” the physician whispered in mock despair. “You don’t suppose Vicky will have as much trouble?” he hedged, thinking Victoria wasn’t a typical country chit.
“I have no idea,” Mildred responded with a shake of her head.
Sensing his wife’s unease at what was to come, Anthony arranged for an additional footman for the household and a lady’s maid for Victoria. By the time he took his leave two days after the girl’s arrival, Anthony thought Vic
toria seemed well-read, rather sharp in her reasoning ability, and clever. She was also reasonably attractive, if one could get past those silver-gray eyes. There were times he thought them rather angelic and at other times, demonic, depending on Victoria’s mood at the time.
“She’ll do fine,” Anthony said as he gave his wife a peck on the cheek and took off for Sussex.
Mildred merely gave him a nod, deciding not to share her sister’s opinion just then. Alexandra had sent a letter ahead of Victoria’s arrival with the warning that her daughter had developed an independent streak that bodes well for her in life but foretells of trouble for any man who should wish for a compliant wife.
Well, it was a good thing she had the independent streak, Mildred decided, for the poor girl would be attending some events on her own.
Like tonight’s play.
As for how it would look for a chit to attend the theatre without a chaperone, Mildred figured the sheer numbers in attendance would help Victoria to simply blend into the crowd, probably much as she had done the night before at the ball she gone off to in a rush. She claimed to have received a last-minute invitation, but Mildred thought perhaps she had learned of the fête and thought to simply to show up as if she belonged there.
There was much to be said for an independent streak in a young woman.
Chapter 25
An Evening at the Theatre, Part One
Later that night in Mayfair
Stephen tugged on his waistcoat, wondering if wearing the same one he had worn to the soirée and ball earlier in the week was appropriate. He walked into his brother’s dressing room, stunned at the line up of topcoats and waistcoats that hung from pegs along one wall. Most were conservative, one-color coats with no embellishment, although there were a couple of embroidered waistcoats. He tried one on, it’s deep green-on-green stitches appearing as satin against the matte-finished fabric. Would the embroidery be considered too flamboyant by Lord Chamberlain, the man for whom he might become a clerk at Whitehall?
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