Captain Amberton's Inherited Bride

by Jenni Fletcher

  ‘Lance.’

  She was standing just a few feet away, dressed all in blue, his new favourite colour, smiling up at him, though for a few moments he seemed oddly incapable of answering. She looked positively transformed, her whole face seeming to glow with health and happiness. She looked slightly bigger than before, too, as if her body had rounded out in the time since she’d left. Even her hair looked fuller and softer, with feathery tendrils stroking the sides of her newly rounded face.

  Whatever that first pang had been, it stabbed him anew, a bittersweet combination of pleasure at seeing her again and resentment that such a dazzling transformation had happened in his absence. She seemed to have blossomed during their separation, while he’d spent his time counting the days.

  ‘Violet.’ He smiled stiffly and extended an arm, acutely aware of how formal his behaviour must seem next to the enthusiastically informal couple beside them. Frankly, if the Felstones started to behave any more informally, then he might have to suggest they adjourn to one of the nearby waiting rooms. ‘It’s good to see you again. I trust that you’ve had an enjoyable trip.’

  ‘Very enjoyable, thank you.’ She threaded her arm through his. ‘Goodbye, Ianthe.’

  Lance lifted a hand to the rim of his hat, though by the look of things, saying goodbye was the very last thing on either of the Felstones’ minds.

  Violet giggled. ‘I don’t think she heard me.’

  ‘No, I think not.’ He led the way out of the station, pressing her arm tightly against his side so that she couldn’t pull it away again. Now that he had her back, he didn’t want to let go, even for a second. ‘She almost knocked me over to reach him.’

  ‘I noticed. I hope you weren’t waiting long.’

  ‘Not at all,’ he lied. ‘It was perfect timing.’

  ‘And the weather’s so fine today.’ She gave a sigh of pleasure as they walked out of the station on to the harbourside. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen Whitby looking more beautiful.’

  ‘Me neither.’ He glanced down at her radiant expression, still oppressed by that same bittersweet duality of emotions. In truth, he hadn’t paid any attention to the weather that day, but beautiful seemed the most appropriate word for his view now.

  He let go of her arm reluctantly, handing her up into his waiting carriage before turning to greet his batman. ‘Did you enjoy yourself, too, Martin?’

  ‘Very much, sir.’

  Lance lifted an eyebrow. If he wasn’t mistaken, his retainer’s usually taciturn features were arranged in something resembling a smirk.

  ‘Something the matter?’ He narrowed his gaze suspiciously.

  ‘No, sir. It’s just good to see you looking so happy, sir.’

  ‘I don’t recall saying anything of the kind. Am I happy, Martin?’

  ‘You must just look that way, sir.’

  ‘We’ve had a wonderful time.’ Violet twisted around enthusiastically as he threw his batman a last pointed look and climbed in beside her. ‘Edinburgh was wonderful. The castle, the museums, Princes Street Gardens. It was the most thoughtful wedding present you could ever have given me.’

  ‘A honeymoon without the groom?’ The words sounded more bitter than he’d intended.

  ‘That’s not what I meant.’ Her expression sobered instantly. ‘And it was more than just a holiday, you know that. It was freedom. You gave me that, Lance. I’m grateful.’

  ‘Then I’m truly glad that you enjoyed it, although I’m sorry you never made it to the Highlands. What made you curtail the trip?’

  ‘Ianthe wasn’t feeling well.’

  ‘Oh.’ He felt a fleeting sense of disappointment, but then what other reason had he expected? That she’d missed him as much as he had her? He pushed the thought away as the carriage started moving. ‘Is she unwell?’

  ‘Not exactly.’ She beamed suddenly. ‘She started to feel sick in the mornings and when she consulted a doctor, he told her she was going to have a baby. She said she’d be happy to keep travelling, but I knew she’d want to tell Robert as soon as possible.’

  ‘Ah.’ Nothing at all to do with him, then. ‘In that case, I’m happy for them, but still sorry it cut your holiday short.’

  ‘I’m not.’ She rested her head against the seat cushion with a tired smile. ‘It feels good to be back. I think I appreciate it more for having been away. Does that make sense?’

  ‘Perfectly.’ He leaned back beside her, warmed by the words. ‘Five years ago I was desperate to escape and see new places. I never wanted to come back. When I was shot and they said I had to leave the army and come home, I was half tempted to shoot myself again, but now that I’ve seen a bit more of the world, I appreciate my own small corner of it a bit more. Now I can see it in the same way I did as a boy. Arthur and I loved the moors. We spent all our free time roaming up there.’

  ‘Just the two of you?’

  ‘We thought so, but there always seemed to be somebody around when we got into trouble. I think my mother set people to watch us. The terrain can be dangerous if you’re not careful. There are cliffs and bogs, and the weather can change completely in ten minutes.’

  ‘I never realised how unique the landscape is here.’

  ‘This is a wilder landscape than most.’

  She leaned towards him so that her head brushed lightly against his shoulder. ‘I must like things to be wild, then.’

  ‘In that case, we’ll definitely have to make sure you reach the Highlands next time. You must have a wild soul.’

  She burst into a peal of laughter. ‘No one’s ever suggested that before.’

  He smiled, starting to share in her happiness. After all, she was right, he had played some small part in her transformation. It felt good to have made her happy and he liked her laugh. He’d missed it, he realised with a jolt, as if missing her hadn’t been bad enough.

  ‘Maybe no one else knows you the way I do.’ He stretched an arm out, resting it along the top of the carriage seat behind her.

  ‘Do you know me?’ She craned her neck towards him with a look of surprise.

  ‘I think I’m starting to. You look different, Violet, in a very good way, I might add. As if you’re the person you were always meant to be, independent and adventurous and carefree.’

  ‘Now I know you’re talking about someone else.’

  ‘That’s because you still think of yourself as Violet Harper, downtrodden daughter. You’re Violet Amberton now, my rebellious, runaway bride. She’s a whole different woman.’

  ‘In that case, I think I like being Violet Amberton.’ She leaned a little closer towards him and he brought his arm down, wrapping it around her shoulders. She seemed to fit there perfectly.

  ‘Good. I like you being her, too.’

  ‘Will you really come with me to the Highlands?’

  ‘Me?’ He felt a twinge of surprise. He hadn’t said anything about going himself, though he felt ridiculously pleased at the invitation to join her. He gave a small tug on his arm, pulling her closer. ‘All right. Just as soon as things are more settled at the mine.’

  ‘How is it going?’

  ‘I can show you if you like. We’re travelling back that way.’

  ‘Yes, please.’ She nodded eagerly. ‘I’d like to see the reason we got married.’

  He winced inwardly, although it was a fair comment, he supposed. He had married her for the mine, for the money to expand it at least, even if that didn’t feel quite like the reason any more.

  * * *

  Twenty minutes later, he helped her down from the carriage, gesturing towards a ramshackle collection of wooden, shed-like structures on a rock-strewn plateau halfway up a hillside.

  ‘It’s not as chaotic as it looks, I promise you.’

  ‘I didn’t expect a palace.’ She looked around with interest. ‘Is your office in one of those?�
��

  ‘Not so much an office as a desk, but in that small shack at the end, yes. The rest are where we store the equipment.’

  ‘Are those all entrances to the mine?’ She pointed towards a few holes in the hillside.

  ‘Yes, there’s four altogether. It’s safer to have several escape routes.’

  ‘I see.’ She peered inside one of the sheds, looking around as if she were genuinely interested. ‘How many people work here?’

  ‘At the moment, about thirty. Only men though. I don’t allow women or children. They spend three hours in the mine, then I insist on an hour outside. I pay good wages and I make sure it’s as safe as it can be.’

  She nodded thoughtfully. ‘You said you wanted to expand. What is it that you want to do? More tunnels?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He gestured down into the valley. ‘But if we build our own blast furnace, then we won’t have to take the ore to Grosmont for smelting. We can do our own smelting and puddling and then sell it as wrought iron instead of pig. We’re not far from Rosedale and we can use their supply line to transport it directly to the ports. I’ve already struck a bargain with the owner.’

  ‘Is it expensive to build a furnace?’

  ‘Extremely, in the short term, but in the long run, we can reinvest in the estate. If we build it in the valley away from the villages, then it won’t ruin the countryside or the air either. It’ll be a good thing for everyone, I hope.’ He turned to face her again, unable to stop a feeling of happiness from bursting out of him suddenly. ‘I’m glad that you’re home, Violet.’

  To his surprise and delight, she didn’t hesitate to answer. ‘So am I.’

  Chapter Thirteen

  Violet awoke to the sight of a turquoise-blue canopy. Smiling, she let herself sink deeper into the comfort of a generously proportioned, lavishly cushioned four-poster bed. She was in the blue room, her mother-in-law’s old chamber, reclining on a feather-filled mattress that surely had to be the most comfortable place in the world.

  According to the clock on the mantel it was well past eight o’clock in the morning, but she had no desire to move, let alone to get up. Given the chance, she’d be more than happy to spend the rest of the day lying there. Even if something seemed to be missing...

  ‘Mrs Amberton?’ There was a small knock on the door, followed by the sound of Eliza’s voice.

  ‘Come in.’

  ‘Morning, ma’am.’ The maid poked her head around the door with a bright smile. ‘The master thought you might like breakfast in bed today.’

  ‘Oh.’ She wriggled up to a sitting position, thoughts of slumber forgotten after all. She’d never had breakfast in bed before, but the idea had always been wickedly tempting. ‘Yes, I would.’

  ‘Here you go.’ Eliza placed a large tray over her lap, piled high with ham and eggs, toast and jam.

  ‘You said this was Captain Amberton’s idea?’

  ‘Yes, ma’am, though he said to wait awhile because you were fast asleep.’

  ‘I was? I mean...he did?’ She blinked in surprise. How had he known if she was asleep or not when they’d slept in separate bedrooms? ‘Is he having breakfast in his chamber, too?’

  ‘No, ma’am, he left for the mine two hours ago.’

  ‘Oh.’ Violet picked up a cup of hot chocolate and sipped at it thoughtfully. They’d had a pleasant dinner together the previous evening, catching up on each other’s news, before Lance had escorted her up to her new chamber and then left her at the door. But if he’d known that she was still asleep that morning, then surely that meant he’d been in her room at some point—to say goodbye, perhaps?

  ‘He said I should ask if there’s anything else you might fancy?’ Eliza nodded at the tray.

  ‘Something else?’ Violet echoed the word incredulously. Considering the massive amount of food piled up in front of her, it was hard to imagine what else she could want. ‘No, this is plenty, thank you. Would you like some? Here...’ she patted the bedcover ‘...why don’t you sit down?’

  Eliza stole a fleeting look at the door, hesitating for a moment before perching on the edge of the bed.

  ‘Can I have some toast?’

  ‘Of course. Jam and butter?’

  ‘Yes, please. Cook watches how much we have.’

  Violet smeared a generous amount on to two pieces of toast, offering one to Eliza and biting into the other herself.

  ‘The master seems very keen to make you happy.’ Eliza gave her a conspiratorial look. ‘He’s been like a different man this past month, Mrs Gargrave says.’

  ‘Mrs Gargrave says that?’ Violet swallowed a mouthful of toast in amazement. It was hard to imagine the housekeeper approving of her husband in any way at all. ‘As a compliment?’

  ‘I think so, as much as she ever gives one anyway.’

  ‘How has he changed?’

  ‘Well, for starters, he gets up early in the mornings now and goes to bed at what she calls a reasonable hour. And she hasn’t filled the decanters in a whole month.’

  Violet took another bite to stifle a smile. She hadn’t necessarily expected Lance to stick to that part of their bargain while she was away, but apparently he had.

  ‘And he was eager to get to the station in good time yesterday. Left a whole hour early, Mrs Gargrave says.’

  ‘Really?’

  She felt her cheeks flush with a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure. She was starting to think that Mrs Gargrave said a little too much, not that she wasn’t pleased by the thought of Lance himself being eager to see her. She’d had mixed feelings about seeing him again, but when she’d seen him waiting on the platform, she hadn’t been able to stop her heart doing some kind of jig in her chest. She’d told him that she was glad to be back and it was true. Despite her eagerness to travel and her resolve not to think about him in Scotland, she’d felt more homesick than she’d expected, not for Whitby, but for here...for him.

  And yet, something about their relationship seemed to have shifted in her absence as well, as if he really had missed her. The way his eyes had seemed to light up when he’d seen her again had made her want to run into his arms the way Ianthe had into Robert’s. When she’d accidentally brushed her head against his shoulder in the carriage, he’d put his arm around her as if he wanted her close too, even if he had chosen to sleep in a separate bedroom last night. Was he what felt missing from her bed?

  Having taken the opportunity of travelling with Ianthe to ask some more pointed questions about that particular aspect of marriage, she was half excited, half alarmed by the idea of sharing a bed with him again. Not that it was going to happen for another seven years. Not unless they changed their minds about their arrangement anyway...

  ‘Your new sitting room is ready, too,’ Eliza continued. ‘Freshly painted and everything.’

  ‘My what?’

  ‘Your sitting room. Captain Amberton said you wanted to use the tower.’

  ‘Oh!’ She swallowed the last of her hot chocolate and wrenched back the bedcovers, wriggling into a dressing gown. Apparently he really did want her to be happy. The very thought of her new sitting room achieved that. She couldn’t wait another moment to see it!

  She ran down the corridor and stopped in the doorway of the tower, rendered speechless. Her former prison had been transformed into the prettiest, cosiest room she could ever have imagined, with cream-coloured walls complemented by an assortment of pink-and-white-striped furniture and a dark, dusky rose carpet. Pictures of seascapes adorned the walls and there were bunches of bluebells arranged in vases on every spare surface, as if someone were trying to make the room as homey as possible.

  ‘What’s that?’

  Her eyes fell on a battered and ancient-looking wooden chest beneath one of the windows. It seemed incongruous, out of place with the rest of the furniture and yet familiar somehow. It certainly hadn’t b
een there the last time she’d been in the room. She would have remembered it.

  ‘I don’t know, ma’am, but Captain Amberton said not to open it without you. Would you like me to help you unpack it now?’

  ‘No.’ She felt a sudden urge to be alone. ‘That’s enough for now, thank you, Eliza. I’ll manage.’

  ‘Very good, ma’am.’

  She crouched down by the chest, waiting until the sound of Eliza’s footsteps had receded before unfastening the metal clasp, a feeling of anticipation making her feel slightly dizzy. Nervously, she opened the lid, pressing a hand to her mouth as she did so. Sure enough, there they were, all her mother’s old books, just as she remembered them, like a group of long-lost friends. She reached in and picked up the uppermost tome, a copy of Malory’s Arthurian legends, hugging it to her breast and laughing aloud with happiness.

  * * *

  A few hours later, she looked up from her newfound favourite position, comfortably ensconced in an armchair by the fireplace. Her sitting room was finished. Her mother’s books were arranged in pride of place on her bookshelf, while the chest remained under the window, ornamented with cushions to provide an additional seat. She’d been so engrossed in her books that she’d declined lunch, although Mrs Gargrave had appeared on several occasions bearing a tea tray, tutting loudly each time to find the mistress of the house still clad in her dressing gown.

  She didn’t care. She was wearing a pair of spectacles, too, the ones she needed for reading, though she was starting to wish that she’d purchased a new pair on her travels. The tiny metal frames had an irritating habit of sliding down her nose at inopportune moments, making the words in front of her go suddenly blurry, though it was a minor irritation at best. Nothing could spoil her mood today. Everything else was perfect. She’d come to the pleasing conclusion that her husband could lock her up every day if he wanted to.