“What a lovely room!” Nell said, swamped by an overwhelming urge to sweep away all the impedimenta and dance her way down the length of it.
“Do you think so?” Lady Harbottle said. “It always makes me cross. Such a waste of space! We could have had three serviceable rooms out of this, with doors to open up if we wished to entertain, but as it is we never find a reason to sit in here.” She stopped abruptly. “Found, I should say. I keep forgetting that he is dead.”
Impulsively, Nell laid a hand on her arm. “I know. It is hard to adjust to widowhood.”
“It is, indeed it is,” Lady Harbottle said in a whisper, tears sparkling in her eyes. “In William’s case, we had some warning of it, and a little time to prepare ourselves, but your case is harder, I feel. Nathan was so shocked when he heard of it. He wrote to us in great distress. The sea is so fickle, calm one moment and a tempest the next. Our sailors are brave men, whether they keep the French from our shores, or bring us oranges and cotton. Come, let me show you Great-uncle Matthew in his full glory.”
The man who stared down haughtily at Nell was every inch the aristocrat. From his carefully contrived powdered wig to his buckled shoes, from the elaborate embroidery fringing his coat to the quantity of lace at wrists and throat, he looked exactly what he was — a man of wealth and power. But the resemblance to Jude was striking.
“He is like my husband,” Nell said. “Taller, perhaps, and wider, especially about the waist, but the face… the eyes are very like, and the nose, too. Not so much the mouth. If I passed him in the street wearing modern clothing, I should certainly look twice, but I should not be fooled for long.”
“Is it possible that there is… how shall I put this? Some connection, let us say, between your husband and Matthew Harbottle? An irregular connection, perhaps, for he is reputed to have left remembrances in any number of otherwise respectable families.”
“I cannot say,” Nell said. “My husband’s family came from Ireland, so it seems unlikely, but who knows? These things do happen. But that would be a great coincidence, would it not? I do not trust coincidences, Lady Harbottle.”
“No, indeed, but sometimes they do occur. The letter from Felix, for instance.”
Nell nodded, remembering Mrs Young, a random traveller who had lived in the very town for which Nell was bound. “True, and all I know of my husband is what he has told me himself. Since his death I have discovered that he concealed much from me, so perhaps this is another part of his history which he forgot to mention. Poor Jude! His memory was excessively deficient, it seems.”
Lady Harbottle laughed again. “You take it lightly, and that encourages me to hope that my spirits, too, will rise in time. Life will not always feel so bleak as it does now. Mrs Caldicott, may I ask what your plans are? You did not come all this way solely to bring Mama her letter, I feel sure.”
“Circumstances oblige me to leave Southampton for a little while, and the letter suggested a visit to Yorkshire, of whose beauties I have heard much.”
“Perhaps then, if you have no other arrangements in place, you would be so kind as to stay here for a while, and bear us company in our grief.”
“The kindness is all on your side, Lady Harbottle, but I could not possibly encroach during your mourning. I shall go to York and see the sights until it is possible for me to return home.”
“Please stay! You would be doing us the greatest favour,” Lady Harbottle said. “You cannot imagine anything sadder than two bereaved women in this great empty house, with nothing to fill our days. We may not go out for this first month, but with you and your son, we should have to rouse ourselves from our melancholy. You understand our feelings just now as no one else can, and Mama is so taken with Louis already. I have not seen her so animated for a long time. And I… I should dearly like to have a child in the house for a little while. Can you understand? I have so much love inside me for a child, yet I have never had an opportunity to express it. Will you allow me to do so, just for a little while?”
“It is true that a child gives one purpose as nothing else can,” Nell said softly, remembering that it was Louis who had brought her back from despair after her illness. “If Louis would like it, and Lady Harbottle agrees, then we should be delighted to stay for a time, if we can be of service to you.”
“You are generous indeed. Perhaps your presence will distract Mama from fretting over Felix. Let us go back to the saloon, for Craven will have brought refreshments by now.”
“Mr Nathan Harbottle will find his cousin, I am sure,” Nell said, as they walked back down the gallery. “He seems determined to leave no stone unturned in his search.”
“Oh, yes! Nathan is very determined and very methodical, but Felix has hidden himself well enough for these sixteen years past. And if he cannot be found, then I do not know what will become of us, for everything is entailed and, with William gone, Felix is now the heir to both the estate and the baronetcy. He must be found. It is imperative.”
16: Two Gentlemen
Nell and Louis were given a fine room with a prospect over the formal gardens, laid out in rigid squares of low hedges and topiary. Their box had been brought from the inn, and all their clothes had been pressed, neatly folded and put away. A bed for Louis had been made up in the dressing room, but Nell asked for a truckle bed to be brought into her room.
“He will sleep better if he is close to me,” she told Lady Harbottle, who showed them to their room. “Shall you mind if he takes breakfast and dinner with me, too? It is what he is used to, and—”
“Of course. We have no nursery staff, so that is for the best anyway. We dine at five, and Mama and I always dress, but you need not, if you do not wish. It will only be the three of us… four of us, I should say,” she added with a smile at Louis. “Ah, how delightful to have a child in the house!” She sighed again, her smile turning wistful. Nell sincerely pitied her.
While the maids brought in the truckle bed and made it up, and Louis investigated every drawer and closet in the two rooms, Nell looked about her with satisfaction. She had forced herself not to repine at the loss of the life she had been brought up to, and even during the painful years of bare survival, without even the comfort of tea, she had tried very hard not to be discontented with her lot. She had chosen it, after all, and the mistakes and the blame had been entirely hers. Yet there was something glorious in finding herself once more in such a place. It was wrong of her, and naturally it was only a temporary respite, but it felt so much like home. The large rooms, the army of silent servants, the luxury everywhere — so little considered as she grew up, yet of so much moment to her now.
Her resentment against her father simmered still. He it was who had turned his back on his only daughter, who had shut her out of his life so thoroughly and so implacably that even after his death her brother could not mend the breach. He had seen it as protecting the family from the predations of a fortune hunter, but Jude had never once suggested asking her family for aid, even when they had faced financial ruin, and it would have been the greatest comfort in her trials to know that her father still cared for her. Just to visit now and then would have been the most wonderful boon. How ironic that her own family rejected her utterly, even now, yet the Harbottles, who knew nothing of her, offered her the open hand of friendship. Such wonderful people. She would do her utmost to be a helpful guest while she stayed with them.
Admonishing herself briskly for falling into maudlin introspection, she chose one of her two evening gowns and prepared to enjoy her stay at Percharden House, however brief it might be.
Dinner was enlivened by Louis’ presence. After discovering that both the Lady Harbottles were fluent in Italian, he plied them with questions in his own halting version of the language, and thus extended his vocabulary dramatically. The ladies seemed to enjoy the exercise, and Nell found she had little to do except to remind him to eat occasionally.
Having put him to bed after dinner and left him in the charge of a young housemaid, w
ho assured him she had five younger brothers and knew exactly how to take care of him, Nell returned to the saloon. To her surprise, the dowager was seated at the pianoforte, her fingers moving with great confidence over the keys as she played a gentle air.
She stopped, resting her hands in her lap, at the sound of the door closing. “Is that you, Mrs Caldicott? Do come and sit beside me. Jessica is engaged in a most complicated part of her embroidery and will not be good company until she has completed the rose in its entirety.” Nell did as she was bid, as Lady Harbottle went on at once, “You are surprised to find me able to play when I can barely see the instrument, never mind the keys?”
“I was at first, I confess, but a lifelong player may be so familiar with the keys that the melody almost plays itself.”
The dowager chuckled. “Indeed. It is my blessed comfort, especially now, so I make no apology for playing with my son not yet cold in his grave.”
“So it is with me, also,” Nell said, “although I have not such a magnificent instrument available to me.”
“Then if you will assist me to your chair, Mrs Caldicott, you may give me the pleasure of listening to another performer for a change.”
Oh, the delight of a fine instrument! Unlike her stay at Daveney Hall, there were no sad memories or worries here to affect her pleasure in the music. She was free of her husband’s rages, she had enough money to live upon and she was a guest of two people who offered her only kindness. For tonight at least, she would be happy.
And so she played, mostly from memory, and only slower, gentler pieces in keeping with the mood of a house in mourning, but it was a great joy to her. Every time she stopped, the dowager urged her to continue and so she played for the whole evening. Only when the dowager nodded off in her chair did the party break up and retreat to bed.
~~~~~
Nathan was still dressing at his house in York when the letter from Jessica arrived, marked ‘Urgent’, the word underlined three times. The housekeeper had been so flustered by such an imperious command that she had brought it to him at once.
“Oh, Lord, this cannot be good news,” he said to Packard, ripping it open.
But it was. Felix’s letter had arrived, brought by Mrs Caldicott personally all the way from Southampton. ‘I persuaded her to stay for a while,’ Jessica wrote. ‘I knew you would want to see her again, and far better that she stays with us than in York. Less talk that way. Besides, she has her son with her, the most delightful child. I plan to smother him with affection while he is here.’
He laughed out loud, so startling Packard that he dropped the coat he was holding.
“Excellent! Here, give me that coat. I can put it on myself. You go and tell William I shall want the carriage in an hour, and I shall want you to take Mr Smethurst a note just as soon as I have written it. Off you go now. Run, run!”
It was a little more than an hour, but in the end the carriage was ready, Harry was collected from his lodgings round the corner and the two set off for Sagborough. In the carriage, Harry read Jessica’s note.
“You see, she understands you well enough, and she is making it easy for you to court her.”
“It would be shocking indeed to court a widow of only three months’ standing,” Nathan said, too cheerful to be cross with Harry. Soon he would see her again, and admire her cool beauty and her mannered elegance. Even though she was not at all the sort of woman he preferred, it would be a pleasure to be reacquainted with her and observe whether the strain in her pale face had lifted at all, now that her husband was at the bottom of the sea.
“So why are we rushing off to see her with such indecent haste?” Harry said, with a wry smile. “I had to bolt my breakfast, I would have you know, and I am not accustomed to such reckless starts to my day. But then, what does food matter when I am to meet the acclaimed beauty of Southampton? I am sure she is worth the sacrifice of a second slice of plum cake.”
“You may tell me when you have met her,” Nathan said complacently. “I am confident that you will not consider yourself hard done by.”
Craven received them with a smile. “The ladies will be very happy to see you, Mr Nathan, and Mr Smethurst also. Their ladyships have been sadly pulled these last few days. There is a guest staying just now, a widow with a young son, and that has cheered the ladies tremendously. They are all in the blue parlour this morning.”
Nathan would have been astonished if they were anywhere else. They were always in the blue parlour until noon, after which the dowager rested for an hour and then liked to sit in the formality of the saloon until it was time to dress for dinner. She also liked to have all her visitors announced, even one so familiar as Nathan, so he and Harry meekly followed Craven to the blue parlour.
“Mr Nathan Harbottle and Mr Harry Smethurst, milady,” Craven intoned.
Eagerly, Nathan scanned the room for Mrs Caldicott. His aunt… Jessica… the boy… where was she? Ah, there she was, watching him, her face expressionless. Black suited her, that was his first thought. She had looked elegant in Southampton in her plain morning gowns, but in the deep black of widowhood her alabaster skin was accentuated, and her lace cap framed her delicate features to perfection. As his eyes met hers, he could feel a huge grin spreading across his face. She blushed slightly and lowered her eyes demurely.
Jessica came forward to take his hands and kiss his cheek. “Nathan! What a delightful surprise,” she said, just as if she had not written to urge him to come. “And Harry, too. How kind of you to visit it us in our seclusion. Nathan, you will find some old friends here today.”
“So I see,” he said, his eyes drinking in the sight of Mrs Caldicott. But first, he must talk to his aunt. “Aunt Amelie, how are you?”
“Still here,” she said, “and that is all that can be hoped for at my age. Have you heard? My letter from Felix has arrived.”
“So I understand. Did he say aught of interest? Such as where he is?”
She laughed. “It was all about snow and ice. Very Felix. He was ever an oddity.” She laughed. “Have you made any more progress in your search?”
“I have been too much occupied with my role as executor of William’s estate to have leisure for the search. There has been no response as yet to the new advertisements.”
She grunted, and shook her head. “Foolish idea! As if he would answer an advertisement now, after all these years.”
It was an old argument, and he said no more. If Felix had seen the advertisement, he would know that his older brother was now dead, and the family feud with it. As the new baronet, Felix could order his life as he chose, without reference to anyone else. It might well be an inducement for him to return, and it would be just like him to simply turn up on the doorstep without prior warning. Every morning Nathan woke wondering if today would be the day when his stubborn cousin would finally come home. Each night so far he had retired to bed disappointed, but he still had hope. So long as Felix lived and breathed and wrote to his mother, there was hope.
Nathan moved away to allow Harry to make his greetings to Aunt Amelie, which she turned aside with the briefest of courtesies. Ah well, she would never alter. If she disliked a person, there was no changing her mind.
He found Louis watching him with the unblinking gaze of youth. “Well, young man, and how are you? Enjoying Yorkshire?”
Louis executed a rather elegant bow, clearly learnt from his oh-so-elegant mother. “I am well, thank you, sir, and I like Yorkshire very much, although I have not seen very much of it yet because I slept in the carriage and we have not gone out anywhere yet, not even into the garden.”
“These are easy difficulties to resolve. Perhaps, when everyone has got all the talking out of the way, we may persuade your mama to take a turn about the garden with us. And on another day, because ladies like notice of such affairs so that they may decide which gown and bonnet to wear, we might ask Lady Harbottle if we may borrow the barouche and all of us go for a little drive. Should you like that?”
He nodded, and since Harry came nearer to make Louis’ acquaintance, Nathan was free to turn to the lady herself. She had risen as they entered the room, and then waited patiently to greet him. She was still a little flushed, he thought, but perhaps that was his fault for displaying so openly how pleased he was to see her. He hoped he had his countenance under better control now.
“Mrs Caldicott!” he said, bowing. “I cannot tell you how happy I was to receive Jessica’s letter, and discover that you had ventured into our fair county. How are you?”
She dipped a graceful curtsy. “I thank you, sir, I am very well.”
“Indeed, you look as if Yorkshire agrees with you.”
That made her laugh. “I believe it does, sir. And you are well yourself?”
“I am in excellent health, I thank you. But how wonderful this is, to meet again so unexpectedly. I had not thought you would be able to leave Southampton for some time. It gives me the opportunity to convey to you in person how grieved I was to hear of your husband’s tragic end. So many fine men are lost to the sea, and yet how bravely they venture forth despite the risks.”
She lowered her eyes, but he could not tell whether she was distressed or embarrassed by his words. It seemed somewhat false of him to express sorrow for the death of her husband when in reality he was glad that she was reprieved from the nightmare of matrimonial violence.
“You are very kind, sir,” she said in a low voice. “I was advised to leave Southampton for a while, and your letter inspired us with a wish to see York and the Minster.”
That raised so many questions! Why had she been advised to leave home, and by whom? Her brother, presumably, but had he also paid the cost? Travelling was expensive. But all he said was, “I had thought you settled with your brother.”
The Widow (Silver Linings Mysteries Book 1) Page 16
