Legacy Redeemed (Redeemed, Restored, Reclaimed Book 1)

by Aubrey Grayson

  Instead, he asked, “And where have you come from?”

  Susannah decided she may as well be honest. London was a big city, and frankly, she hadn’t prepared another answer. “London, sir.”

  The old man’s brows rose. “How ever did you hear of us? Do you have friends from East Devon? I can’t imagine that our Thinking Cottage is famous much beyond our little piece of the world.”

  She couldn’t tell him of her father. She couldn’t risk the small chance that he might have known him. So she went with the other—no-less-true—story. “Actually, Mr. Robinson, I heard about it from a stranger in London, though I do believe he said he’d grown up near here.”

  “I see. Will you please describe this person to me?”

  She laughed. “Oh, sir! I fear I cannot even do that. You see, we met at a masquerade ball, and I never saw his face. I believe his hair was dark. And we danced, so I can assure you that he was quite tall.” The domino had really only covered his eyes, of course, but the fewer details she gave, the better, just in case.

  “Tall with perhaps dark hair. That isn’t much to go on,” he said with a twinkle in his eye and a surreptitious look in his daughter’s direction.

  Susannah had the ridiculous suspicion that he did in fact know her Prince Charming. There was no way he could, based on so little detail, but something about the look he gave his daughter made Susannah think otherwise. No matter. After all, Prince Charming had been kind to her. Even if he heard of her arrival in Seaton, he likely would not mind. Though given her state of disgrace, she rather hoped he wouldn’t hear. To this end, she said, “I am sure he did not intend for me to come here. He was only making conversation.”

  “And yet here you are.” It was spoken genially, but Susannah felt the weight of what she had done. Traveling hundreds of miles from London with only a single maid. Escaping the home of her guardian. Imposing on the hospitality of strangers based on a bit of ballroom gossip. How strange she must seem.

  Perhaps sensing the direction of Susannah’s thoughts, Letitia spoke up now. “I find you very brave, Mrs. Stanhope, to embark on such a daring adventure.”

  Mr. Robinson nodded as though he agreed, but then added, “Or perhaps you had few other choices. Sometimes we are most adventuresome when we have nothing to lose.” He looked keenly at Susannah, and she felt laid bare, as though he had looked directly into her soul and announced what he had seen there.

  Susannah nodded slightly, her bottom lip quivering.

  The twinkle disappeared from his eyes, as though he realized how close to the truth he had been, and Susannah could not turn away from him. Finally, he broke his gaze and gave her a sad smile. “Then it seems you do have quite a lot to mull over while you are here. I shall add you to my prayers.”

  Susannah’s arm reached down to grasp the side of her chair in an attempt to steady herself. It seemed silly that she should be shocked by such a statement, but it had been a long time since she’d been included in anyone’s prayers. She was not prepared for such kindness. She managed to stammer out, “Thank you, Mr. Robinson. You are too kind.”

  She found herself saved from further comment by the footman, who came to announce dinner and push Mr. Robinson’s chair to the dining room. She followed behind, alongside Letitia. The medium-sized dining room was not luxurious, but it seemed to Susannah the kind of place one could enjoy the company of friends and family, much like the dining room of her childhood home. A large platter of fish was laid out on the table, along with dishes of potatoes, pies of some sort, and cabbage. The aroma reminded Susannah it had been some time since she’d eaten a proper meal, having survived on cold meats and bread during her travels.

  Mr. Robinson blessed the meal with a short prayer of thanks. Then he turned to her and resumed their conversation. “So how have you found the cottage, Mrs. Stanhope? Will it suffice? I do believe you are the first lady occupant.”

  Susannah flinched inwardly. She knew her solitary state would be on the forefront of everyone’s mind, but she wasn’t about to start answering questions. Perhaps it would behoove her to confine herself to the cottage after tonight’s meal. That would prevent them from asking.

  For now, she smiled broadly at Mr. Robinson and said, “The cottage is far lovelier than I had hoped for. I especially love the garden and the beautiful quilt on the bed. Mrs. Powell told me it was the work of your late wife.”

  This brought another smile to the vicar’s face. “Ah, my dear Fannie! She was such an artist. People go on and on about ladies and their embroidery, but embroidery was never enough for my dear girl. She needed a larger canvas. Ah, I have missed her so. She so brightened a room.”

  Susannah furrowed her brow in sympathy. “She sounds quite lovely. May I ask how long you have been without her?”

  Sorrow filled Mr. Robinson’s face. “I’m afraid she succumbed to a fever not three years ago.” His grief was punctuated by a round of coughing.

  When the worst had passed, Letitia cleared her throat gently. “As you can imagine, Mrs. Stanhope, after l received word of my father’s illness, I determined to come home, regardless of my current circumstances.” She gestured toward her swollen belly. “My dear husband did not like to let me come alone, but his services were required in a parish in Cornwall, and he did know the pain my mother’s passing caused me. And indeed, the loss of my brother, Mark, a year later at Waterloo. You can imagine our grief at losing two so dear in such a short time.” She glanced at her father, grief and love shining in her eyes.

  Remembered pain filled Susannah. Time had lessened the sting, but a deep ache lingered on. She found herself breaking the resolve she had just made, telling Letitia and her father a bit of her own truth. “Indeed, I can, Mrs. Powell. My own dear parents were taken from me only a few years apart.”

  Sympathy filled Letitia’s eyes. “How difficult that must have been. Were their deaths quite sudden?”

  “Yes. My father had gone to town to see to some business. When he returned, he complained of a pain in his shoulder. We had dined together, and upon standing at the close of the meal, he clutched his heart and fell to the ground. It was quite dramatic and quite devastating.” Susannah smiled weakly. “My mother’s was much less so. She simply went to bed complaining of a headache, and when my sisters and I arose the following morning, we found that she would not.” It amazed her that she needed so few words to tell the story that had so changed her life. In her mind, each of those days took the space of hundreds of other days. They were simply…larger.

  Mr. Robinson broke into her thoughts. “It seems we have much in common, Mrs. Stanhope. I am sorry for your loss.”

  Susannah nodded solemnly. “And I for yours. But our conversation has grown quite gloomy. Perhaps we should turn the topic. Mrs. Powell, you mentioned that your husband was required by a parish. Is he also a man of the cloth?”

  Letitia grinned impishly. “Yes, we are quite a family of vicars! My father and my husband, but also Mark, before his death. He was a chaplain in the army.”

  “Three vicars in one small family. That does seem unusual. But perhaps that is only because I have not known such a family. It is not odd to meet a family of merchants or solicitors.” Her companions laughed along at her small jest. Susannah looked at her plate and realized the food had disappeared from it. She had been so engaged in their conversation that she had barely noticed the food. A shame too, for it smelled so good she had no doubt it tasted delicious.

  Mr. Robinson gained her attention with another spasm of coughing. When he recovered, he leveled piercing eyes at her. “Mrs. Stanhope, did this masked man of yours tell you anything more of our cottage? Perhaps of the price required?”

  This took Susannah quite aback. She wished to repay them for the use of the cottage. And she had funds. But she did not expect the conversation to take place over dinner. “Indeed, he did not. As I mentioned, I do not think he expected me to come here. However, I am not without funds. I will gladly pay the rents.”

  �
��No, no, your funds are no good here. Our price is service to the community.”

  “Father!” Mrs. Powell appeared mortified. “Mrs. Stanhope is a lady! You cannot expect her to plow fields like our male visitors! You’ll have to make an exception! Besides, she’s already offered to tend to the gardens at the cottage.”

  Mr. Robinson grinned. “Has she, now? Well, that is an excellent start, but I think more is necessary. Now, calm yourself, Letitia! Of course you know I do not mean to set her to a plow. No, I have a nice ladylike employment in mind. Mrs. Stanhope, the price I require is an hour of your time once a day to assist an old man with correspondence.”

  A grin spread over Susannah’s face. She’d enjoyed Mr. Robinson’s company so much she couldn’t help being glad to have the opportunity to know him more, despite her earlier resolve to avoid these kind people.

  Letitia, however, was less enthusiastic. “But, Father, I assist you with correspondence!”

  “I know, my dear, and you do it admirably. However, you have also taken over many other duties, including the Summer Garden Fair, and you won’t mind my observing, you are increasing. Mrs. Jones has informed me that you have been skipping your afternoon rest in order to assist me. Mr. Powell will never forgive me if he finds you to be overtasked. And if my grandchild will benefit from Mrs. Stanhope’s help, then we should accept it.” He reached across the table to cover her hand with his own. “I know that you are here with me because you worry for me. But, my dear, allow me to return the favor.”

  It was enough to garner Letitia’s surrender. She gazed fondly at her father. “Very well, then. If Mrs. Stanhope will accept the task, I will not fight her for it. The fair is keeping me rather busy.”

  The sweet scene almost overwhelmed Susannah with the loss she still felt of her own father. Perhaps if he had lived, her life would now be quite similar to Letitia’s. Tears rose in her eyes, but she pushed them back. “Then it is settled. Mr. Robinson, at what time must I report for duty?”

  A time was agreed upon, and a footman cleared the dishes. Susannah said her good-byes to her hosts and met Amy, who had dined with the vicarage staff, for the short walk back to the cottage. She hoped she had not made a mistake by agreeing to spend more time with the vicar. But she looked forward to having some employment other than reflecting on her unhappy predicament.

  ***

  Amy helped Susannah dress for church the next morning. Susannah couldn’t help but feel an impostor. It had been years since she had even darkened the doors of a church. But beyond that, she could stay in Seaton only because she had convincingly lied to the residents of the vicarage. She wouldn’t be a bit surprised if God sent down a lightning bolt to strike her right in the nave of St. Gregory’s.

  Mr. Robinson had mentioned last night that the church building was erected sometime in the twelfth century. She smothered a giggle at the idea of the great structure surviving some six hundred years of normal use but being brought to rubble in a single sermon with Susannah Blackmon—sorry, Stanhope—in attendance.

  “What’s so funny?” Amy asked, rummaging around Susannah’s trunks to find a reticule to match her sprigged walking dress. They had begun unpacking yesterday, but a few things were yet undone.

  “Nothing. Just being irreverent. Do you think there is any way I could get out of going?”

  Amy’s sharp eyes darted toward her. “Out of going to church? I don’t know why you would want to. Mrs. Powell and Mr. Robinson have been very kind. It seems only respectful to attend.”

  Well chastened, Susannah nodded. Amy didn’t often scold, but when she did, it was usually because Susannah deserved it. “Of course you are right. I would not wish to offend.”

  A few minutes more and they were out the door. Susannah gazed longingly at the vicarage as they passed it. She hated that they would have to arrive alone, much preferring to have attended with Letitia, who would feel like a longtime friend compared to the other strangers at the church. However, Letitia had been required to arrive quite early because of some responsibility or other. Susannah knew all too well what it meant to be the vicar’s family, but still she longed for her friend.

  Amy didn’t speak on the walk, and after being chastised, however mildly, Susannah was loath to open her mouth. Better to observe God’s creation, her mother would have said, and put herself in a mind to listen to the Mass. And regardless of Susannah’s own thoughts on the matter, she had to admit that God’s creation was evident on this fine summer Sunday. The walk from the vicarage to the church was slightly longer than she was used to, but the cool sea breeze refreshed her, and the wildflowers she had so admired the day before waved proudly.

  The church bells rang, calling worshipers to the service. And just a few minutes later, they strolled in view of the church, and Susannah took a breath of awe. She had seen the building the day before, of course, but somehow approaching on foot impressed its full history upon her. Imagine that people so long ago were able to build something that would stand such a test of time. The building wasn’t beautiful by today’s standards, but its domed windows and crenellated tower evoked majesty. Letitia was waiting near the front door, having stepped away from whatever duty had called her there, and she waved merrily upon sight of them.

  In just a few more moments, Susannah and Amy were ensconced in Letitia’s pew, and service began—and held few surprises. Since Mr. Robinson was ill, the curate led them through the Book of Common Prayer. And Susannah’s eyes filled with tears when her mother’s favorite hymn was sung. Immediately following the benediction song, the parishioners filed out and spilled onto the churchyard.

  Susannah’s party was perhaps the slowest of all. One woman after another caught Letitia’s attention, either to inquire of her father’s health, or report on the health of some other parishioner, or to give a detail about plans for the summer festival, or to discover the name of the pretty, young woman who accompanied her.

  Letitia nudged Susannah as a woman approached them. “Mrs. Stanhope, this is Mrs. Hargreaves. She’s a great help to the parish. And Mrs. Hargreaves, this is Mrs. Stanhope, a visitor to my father’s cottage,” she said to the older woman in a green spencer.

  The woman’s brows raised. “Visiting? With her husband?”

  Letitia’s kind eyes sought Susannah’s before she answered. “No, I’m afraid Mrs. Stanhope is widowed.”

  At this, the matron’s eyes snapped to Susannah’s, narrowing in suspicion. “A bit young to be a widow.”

  Susannah wondered how bad it would look if she turned tail and fled the church. She had not told Letitia any such thing, and she had to wonder whether Letitia believed it or was lying to protect Susannah from this woman’s scrutiny. But either way, it served her well. So she arranged her face into a sad, wry smile, and said, “I certainly agree with you.” She was still amazed that she had made it through the sermon lightning-bolt free, and she was already tired of her deception, but at her words the woman’s face softened.

  Mrs. Hargreaves nodded and said, “Yes. Well. I do hope you’ll be helping us prepare for the summer festival.”

  Susannah’s smile widened, and she glanced at Letitia before she answered. “Yes, of course. I’m not certain how long I will be staying in Seaton, but while I am here, I would love to help.”

  Another woman, this one younger than the first and more vivacious, approached the group. “Just the two ladies I was hoping to find this morning.” She smiled at Susannah and said, “And I see we’ve a new friend.”

  Mrs. Hargreaves lifted her eyes to heaven in clear impatience with the woman’s chipper attitude. “Constance, this is Mrs. Stanhope, a widow visiting the vicar’s cottage.” Then to Susannah, “This is Miss Jewell. She is also on the Summer Festival Committee.”

  Miss Jewell gave a greeting and condolences to Susannah, who smiled back her gratitude. Thankfully, Letitia directed the conversation to the next meeting of the festival committee, which was evidently the reason Miss Jewell had sought them out. After a time was de
cided for the next day, Letitia addressed Susannah. “My father is usually done with his correspondence by then. We would love to have you join us.”

  And however reluctant she was to make relationships in Seaton, Susannah agreed.

  Her Sunday improved with luncheon at the vicarage. Mr. Robinson wanted to hear all about the service and all about the parishioners so that he might pray for them or send them an encouraging note. Susannah enjoyed his company immensely and was disappointed when the time came to leave, even though she’d return in just a few hours to dine.

  The week since she’d decided to leave her guardian’s home had passed in such a blur that she spent quite a bit of the afternoon resting and reflecting on the circumstances that had sent her halfway across England and to an entirely different life. If she was honest, it filled her with fear. Not even fear of Hector, really, but of falling in love with this town, with these people. They reminded her so much of the way she’d grown up, of the life she had always expected she’d live. But her parents’ deaths had changed all that, and she needed to remain focused on the plan. Hide here while she determined a course of action and then leave before Hector could track her down.

  Her resolve strengthened, she arrived at the vicarage the following morning, ready to help, yet professional, keeping her distance from its residents. She threw herself into the work of correspondence and festival planning, and by midweek, she’d accomplished much. Perhaps she could survive this stay in Seaton after all.

  Chapter 9

  Nicholas Daventry stooped low to exit the carriage without losing his balance or his grip on the heavy bundle in his arms. He found his footing on the ground below and gently shifted his sleeping son. It was a warm afternoon, and the sweat trickled down his back as his coat shifted, but a breeze fluttered by, finding the damp spots at the nape of Nick’s neck. And hopefully Gabriel’s too.