The Baron's Wife

by Maggi Andersen

  The ocean churned in a wash around them. Laura glanced in dismay at her best boots as the boat dipped, and spray splashed over the sides to pool in the bottom. What if they were swamped? She couldn’t swim. The prospect of her heavy suit and footwear dragging her down made her suck in deep breaths of briny air.

  She refused to express her concerns and watched her new husband with reluctant admiration, both annoyed and impressed with how calm and capable he was. It was impossible to imagine anything untoward happening with him in control. He grew up here and was at home on the sea. There would be no nasty surprises, she repeated silently like a mantra. The wind picked up. She clung to her hat that must now resemble a limp, old cabbage leaf, grateful that it shielded her eyes from the surprisingly sharp glare off the water.

  Nathaniel pulled hard on the oars. “Not far now.”

  “The abbey is on an island?” she managed to say, dreading his reply.

  “No, Wolfram joins the coast farther on, but the causeway is the quickest way to the village. If you’d agreed to wait for the tide to turn, your journey would have ended in a more comfortable fashion.”

  “This is not unpleasant.” Laura chewed her lip on the lie. “I wouldn’t have asked you to row in your good clothes if you’d explained.”

  “What do clothes matter? Isn’t this invigorating? We’ll be there soon.”

  His voice held a rasp of excitement, like a boy on Christmas morning, she thought with a reluctant smile. The mist cleared and a narrow jetty appeared, where a small sloop rocked on the waves.

  “Welcome to Wolfram,” Nathaniel said.

  While he secured the boat to the jetty, Laura gazed up at the abbey. Its tower, as unyielding as a mountain peak, emerged from the fog as the sky began to clear. Nathaniel lifted her onto the wharf. There was a rambling garden filled with flowering trees and shrubs spilling over a stone wall. Laura’s heart leapt at the sight of something so ordinary and familiar as she followed him along the path.

  Nathaniel whistled. A moment later, exuberant barking rent the air, and a pair of red setters raced down the hill. Glossy ears bounced and tongues lolled as they pounced on their master in delight. “Meet Orsino and Sebastian.”

  Laura laughed. “From Shakespeare’s Twelfth Night?” Her husband constantly surprised her.

  He grinned. “A favorite play.”

  The dogs barely acknowledged Laura; their love for their master took all their attention. After he rubbed their ears and gave them a pat, she walked with him up the path, the dogs rushing ahead.

  They entered through a wooden gate in the stone wall.

  The garden of purple magnolia and white azaleas that had caught her eye grew among ancient gravestones, the scent of jasmine cloying. Laura was taken aback. It looked so… forbidding. “Your ancestors?”

  Nathaniel turned away. “Yes.”

  She silently cursed herself for her insensitivity. Of course, his late wife, Amanda, would be buried here.

  He smiled and held out his hand to her. She clasped it, and they continued up the hill. Laura’s breath shortened as emotion and exhaustion took their toll on her depleted energy reserves. She chided herself for her weakness, but she was tired; so much had happened, and it had been a long trip.

  Nathaniel pushed open an iron gate which led into a cobblestoned courtyard. The abbey appeared, sheer walls of granite darkened to black by the fog, the long, mullioned windows reflecting a leaden sky. Above a set of wide steps, the solid pair of arched oak doors were set within a square frame of ornamental stone molding, with a solid brass knocker in the shape of a lion’s head.

  “Orsino, Sebastian, to the stables!” Nathaniel commanded. The two dogs whined in protest, but turned and loped off around the corner.

  The door opened. A dark-haired young maid in a black dress, white apron and mobcap bobbed. “My lord.”

  Nathaniel frowned. “Where is Rudge?”

  “Gone into the village, Your Lordship.”

  “This is Lady Lanyon, Dorcas.”

  “Milady.” Dorcas dipped again.

  Wondering why his butler’s absence annoyed him, Laura smiled at the maid. “Hello, Dorcas. What is the housekeeper’s name? I should like to meet her.”

  “We have no housekeeper at present, milady,” Dorcas said.

  “Have tea brought to the library,” Nathaniel ordered.

  He ushered Laura into a grand hall that reminded her of a cold, fossilized forest. Solid columns of stone like the trunks of giant oaks formed graceful arches rising to a giddy height above. The carved wooden staircase decorated with branches, leaves and fruit led up into the shadowy floor overhead. A chill radiated up from the stone flags.

  Their footsteps echoing, Laura followed Nathaniel along a passageway where massive tapestries decorated the walls. He opened a door and stood aside for her to enter beneath an ornamental arch into a magnificent room, its high, vaulted ceiling a series of decorative ribs. A splendid stained glass window dominated the far wall, which was set on fire by the lowering sun. The fog had drifted away.

  “We have a smaller salon, which is cozier in the winter. But I prefer this room.”

  “It’s breathtaking.” Laura was unable to suppress the relief in her voice at finding both beauty and comfort in the elegant room. Bookshelves filled with gilt and leather-bound books covered two of the oak-paneled walls. Glass cabinets held displays of delicate Chinese porcelain. The furniture was mostly antiques of a very fine quality, most particularly the round rosewood library table and the carved oak desk. A large globe rested on a stand nearby. The pair of brown leather chesterfields faced a baronial fireplace, a Canaletto landscape of the Thames hanging above. It was all undeniably tasteful, well suited to a man like Nathaniel, she thought, eyeing the leopard skin rug stretched out before the fire.

  “Did you shoot that?” she asked with a smile.

  He grinned. “I believe a great uncle did. I don’t care for safaris.”

  Relieved, she made a note to have it stored in the attic. “You have an extensive collection of Chinese porcelain.”

  “My mother was a collector. Sit down, sweetheart. I’ll have a drink with you, and then I must consult my overseer Hugh Pitney. I’ll introduce you to him tomorrow.”

  Apart from the beautiful porcelain, Laura couldn’t see a sign of a woman’s influence anywhere. No likenesses in silver frames, no china ornaments, shawls or crocheted antimacassars. She sat on the chesterfield and swallowed her disappointment at him leaving her so soon. Although eager to see more of the house, she would have liked him to show it to her. But she knew he must supervise the running of his estate, especially after an absence.

  Nathaniel seemed preoccupied since they arrived. As if Wolfram owned a large part of him. She shrugged at such a fanciful thought but couldn’t help another creeping in to replace it. Would Wolfram ever become home to her? She sat back and smoothed her heavy skirt that she couldn’t wait to change out of. While she wanted to learn more about Nathaniel’s life here, now was not the time to ask. “Tell me more about the history of the abbey.”

  He poured himself a whiskey from a crystal decanter on the sideboard. “It was a monastery before it became an abbey. The estate has been in my family since the 16th century.” He stretched his long legs out and leaned back against the leather squab. “The Jacobites hid here in 1714. Their plan was to seize Exeter, Bristol and Plymouth in the hope that the other smaller towns would join the Stuart cause. But the militia quelled the uprising.”

  “Your ancestors supported the Jacobites?”

  “King James II was a Catholic, and King Charles II’s illegitimate son, the Duke of Monmouth, was popular in the Southwest. The first Baron Lanyon supported his claim to the throne. Not wisely as it turned out.”

  Dorcas carried a tray with a solid silver tea service into the room, followed by another maid with golden-colored fruitcake, flat scones, thick cream and jam.

  Laura had rejected any food on the train, and now her stomach rumbled. She too
k a bite of the fruitcake, finding it tasty. “What makes the cake this wonderful color?”

  “Saffron. Traditional fare in these parts.”

  Nathaniel put down his glass. He stood and bent to brush a kiss on her lips. “Dorcas will take care of your needs.”

  Why no housekeeper? She had many questions, but he was gone before she could ask them. Laura poured another cup of tea, a smoky brew she didn’t recognize. The dainty teacup was Spode china with the family crest emblazoned on it in gold.

  She’d finished her tea and was eating the last crumbs of the delicious fruit cake when Dorcas returned. “I’ll take you to your chamber, should you be ready, milady.”

  Eager to see more of the abbey, Laura rose and followed her. They mounted the wide staircase and on the next floor walked along a corridor. A chambermaid waited with linen over her arm, her eyes downcast.

  “How many on the staff, Dorcas?”

  “A dozen servants in the house. There be many workers on the estate though. I have no idea of the number. You be in the Daffodil chamber, milady.”

  “That sounds inviting,” Laura said, as Dorcas opened one of the thick, arched wooden doors.

  Laura almost gasped out loud. Wolfram’s rooms were lofty and large, and this room was no exception. She gazed from the painted plaster ceiling a good twenty feet above, to the floor covered in a thick Oriental carpet. An entire family could sleep in comfort in the carved oak four-poster bed with gold brocade bed hangings. A massive armoire occupied a corner, with a washstand and basin, a vanity table and brocade stool against the other wall. A painting of a lady in green velvet from another age hung above the stone fireplace. Laura wondered who it was. At least it wasn’t Amanda, she thought, stifling a nervous giggle. Stepping into another woman’s shoes was rather daunting.

  Laura crossed to the tall, narrow casement windows, catching sight of her pale face in a gilt mirror as she passed. She prodded her hair. Heavens, she looked like a scarecrow. Pulling aside the heavy brocade curtains woven in gold thread, she gazed at the view below.

  A stiff breeze dispersed the last tendrils of fog and bared the causeway, a built-up carriageway, the receding tide lapping at its rocky foundations. There were the steps she and Nathaniel had climbed earlier, which led through terraced gardens down to the restless expanse of slate-colored sea. Craning her neck, Laura could just see the stable block next to a more modern building that would be the overseer’s office. The trap had arrived, and two men unloaded the luggage. Nathaniel wandered into view, imposing in his riding clothes, his crop resting on his shoulder, his dogs romping at his heels.

  Aware that Dorcas waited behind her, Laura turned. “I shall be most comfortable here.”

  Dorcas jerked her head. “His lordship be in the Fern chamber, milady.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “It’s the chamber next door, milady.”

  “Oh. Of course, thank you.”

  Laura pressed her lips, as a cold dismay gripped her. Was she being foolish? Her parents had separate bedrooms. But she had expected to share a bed with Nathaniel, as they had on their wedding night. Intimacy would come with time, and she supposed she must be patient, although she had expected Nathaniel to want to be with her.

  “Agnes will attend to you. I’ll send her to you when your trunks are brought up.”

  Only a few hours of daylight remained of a very long day, and Laura did not look forward to dinner when tiredness ruined her appetite. “I’ll rest a while, thank you, Dorcas.”

  “As you wish, my lady.”

  When the door closed, Laura removed her boots and sank onto the bed, listening to the mournful sound of gulls through the open window. Certain her adventurous spirit would reassert itself tomorrow, she closed her eyes.

  She ran blindly down one corridor after another, but the wisp of white still followed. It seemed such a fragile thing, like smoke, and yet it filled her with a terrible fear. She could not escape it. She called out.

  “Laura?”

  She sat up quickly, her head spinning. “I must have fallen asleep.”

  “I heard you call out.” Nathaniel sat on the bed beside her. “Were you dreaming?”

  She pushed her hair back off her forehead. “A nightmare, or should it be a daymare?” The dream was so vivid it made her tremble. She wished he would hold her, but gazing at his concerned face, she forced a smile. “How foolish. I’m all right now.”

  “You must have been exhausted after the journey. Do you feel rested?”

  Laura slipped her hand into his, wanting to pull him down to her, but lacking the courage. “Yes. Much.”

  “Care for a walk before it gets dark?”

  “Oh yes.” She reached for her boots.

  “Have you a cloak? It’s growing cool.”

  She smoothed her rumpled suit. She had intended to change. No matter, she would later for dinner. Picking up her cloak, she handed it to him. Nathaniel draped it over her shoulders.

  She put on her hat before the mirror. “Your bedroom is next to mine?”

  “Yes, the adjoining chamber.”

  Walking toward the stairs, Laura took his arm, determined to shake off the lingering effects of the dream. “Where are we going?”

  “Up to the tower, first, for a bird’s eye view of Wolfram. Then we’ll walk toward the park.”

  On the ground floor at the end of the passage, Nathaniel opened a low, arched wooden door. He stood aside for her to enter. They climbed a winding staircase and passed through a doorway at the top, emerging onto a narrow parapet encased with a stone balustrade.

  “Are you afraid of heights? Shall I hang onto you?” Nathaniel asked with a grin.

  “No. I’m fine.”

  Laura clutched the cold stone, determined not to show what an awful coward she was. She’d barely recovered from the boat trip. But the extraordinary view soon removed any sense of fear. The village spread out to the north, linked to the abbey by the thread of carriageway. She picked out the church spire among the trees and the schoolhouse tower with its bell.

  “You can’t see it from here, but our home farm supplies most of the food for Wolfram.” Nathaniel pointed out a narrow lane bordered by ancient oaks that led away from the stables. The road branched into two forks. One led to a row of stone cottages on the ocean side. The other ambled through horse paddocks and rose to disappear into woodland.

  “It’s breathtaking. I can’t take it all in,” Laura said, overwhelmed by the size and magnificence of her new home.

  He smiled. “Let’s take that walk. It will be dark soon.”

  They left the abbey by another door, emerging into a small walled rose garden, where fragrant scents sweetened the air. Not a gravestone in sight, just a stone statue of a lady in a wide-brimmed hat. The statue was Victorian in style. Laura wondered if Amanda had brought it here. A stone bench sat beneath a tree. “This is charming.”

  “I can see you sitting there,” Nathaniel said.

  “It will become my special place.”

  “There’s so much of Wolfram you have yet to see. You might find another you prefer.”

  She intertwined her fingers with his. “I doubt it. But I’m eager to see everything.”

  He squeezed her hand. “And I can’t wait to show you.”

  They walked past small stone cottages. “Who lives here?”

  “Gardeners, outdoor staff and some of the stable workers lived here at one time. Most of the cottages are now used for storage; some in need of repair remain empty. I had intended to refurbish them.”

  Nathaniel whistled. The dogs appeared from the direction of the stables, tails wagging, and joined them on their walk.

  Laura glanced at Nathaniel. Had his plans come to a halt after Amanda died?

  “How big is the estate?”

  “Two thousand acres if you include tenant farms and the village.” He sighed. “Every century that passes, the sea erodes a little more of the land. Who knows, it may be gone one day.” Nathaniel poin
ted to an area of trees and shrubs. “My grandfather was interested in botany. He planted what we now call the arboretum.”

  They strolled past the exotic species and onto the gently sloping hills of the parkland, the dogs bounding ahead. To the west, the sunset cast a pink-tinged, golden glow over the water.

  “Oh, it’s just lovely here,” Laura said.

  Nathaniel gazed down at her with a smile. “We should go back. Dinner and early to bed might be a good idea for my tired wife.” The unspoken suggestion of intimacy hung in the air, enticing her. He put his hands on her shoulders and gazed into her eyes. “You believe you’ll be happy here?”

  She reached up to touch his cheek. “I’d be happy anywhere you are.”

  He took her hand and turned back toward the abbey. “You’re a sophisticated young woman. You’ll find few people who fit that description in these parts.”

  “You were educated at Oxford, were you not?”

  “Feminine company, I mean.”

  She disliked finding doubt in his voice, which must have been reflected in her face, for he pulled her to him for a hug. Bending to kiss the top of her head, he murmured, “I have one person in mind who could.”

  “Oh, and who might that be?

  “We’ll discuss her later. I want you to myself for a while.”

  Arm in arm, they ambled down the lane. They halted at the cry of a small gray-brown bird. It swooped down over their heads and sat on the lowest bough of a tall ash. The dogs barked.

  “Sit!”

  With a thump of their tails, both dogs obeyed.

  A faint chirping came from the ground at the base of the tree. Nathaniel crouched and parted the grass. “The fledgling must have fallen from its nest.”

  Laura squatted beside him, one hand on his shoulder. “What species is it?”

  He glanced at the branches overhead. “A greenfinch. That’s the mother up there.”

  Laura eyed the tiny bird. “The poor thing.”

  The bundle of feathers opened its beak with a feeble chirp, while its anxious parent called from the tree.

  Nathaniel straightened and peered up. “I can see the nest. If I can get the fledgling back up there, the mother will take over.”