“Dearest,” she said hesitantly, knowing how little Meg liked to be criticized, “you’ve never spoken of the captain’s background and circumstances. Did Sir Gerald say anything about them? You will want Mr. Quigley to come and see to the settlements. Should I write to him tomorrow, asking him to call upon you?”
Meg sighed. “Yes, you are right. All the legalities must be observed, and Hedgemere’s future assured. I did rather rush into this.” She ruffled her hair, a sure sign that she was disturbed about something. “I felt so sure that it was the right thing to do this morning, and also when he and I spoke of it this afternoon. I cannot explain it, but I had no qualms at all. Now they assail me, and I think I must have been mad.”
“There is no harm done,” Annis assured her. “No banns have been posted, and no one but Sir Gerald and I know of your agreement. If Mr. Quigley does not find all in order with the captain’s affairs, the engagement can be ended and no one the wiser.”
Meg’s frown eased as she leaned back into her chair. “You are such a comfort to me, Annis. I don’t know what I would do without you.”
Annis felt a pang. Surely she hadn’t mentioned settlements and backgrounds and families in order to keep Meg from marrying the captain. She couldn’t be that selfish—could she? She clasped her hands tightly in her lap. It was sometimes so difficult to be sure she was following Papa’s teachings. They sounded so simple and straightforward when one heard them in church, but somehow they seemed as tangled as Meg’s embroidery threads when Annis tried to apply them in everyday life. How could she be sure Meg’s needs came first with her?
Annis smiled bravely at Meg. “You will have me here as long as you need me. I won’t leave you before you are well and truly married, rest assured of that.”
Meg stared at her beautiful friend. “But you cannot leave, Annis! What would I do, and where would you go? Home to the rectory, to your father?”
Annis knew the fear and disorder of her thoughts did not show on her face. She had learned to smooth out her brow and keep her expression serene no matter how she felt. “I will probably go home for a visit. It has been three years since I’ve seen Papa. But I believe I will seek another post. The quiet life of an unmarried daughter at home does not suit me any longer, I am afraid.”
“And you are looking forward to leaving?” Meg couldn’t keep the hurt out of her voice.
“My dear, life has to change. People grow and change. We can’t remain forever fixed in one place.” Annis reached out and took Meg’s hand. “We have always known you would marry one day and I would seek another post.”
“Yes, I suppose we have.” Meg picked up her embroidery hoop and began to pick at her stitches. “But I don’t see why marriage has to change everything! It would be much more sensible if Captain Sheridan simply moved in here, gave me the money for Hedgemere, and we went on as before. There’s plenty of room, after all. We need scarcely see each other.”
“You know you are being foolish, Meg, dear. Marriage changes everything for a woman. Usually for the better, I am told.” Annis gave her troubled employer an encouraging smile.
Meg shook her head, unconvinced. “I’m beginning to look very favorably on that mantua maker’s shop in Harrowgate!” she said.
Annis looked at Meg’s embroidery and smiled. “Of course, loving embroidery and beadwork as you do, I can easily understand why you would.”
The two women looked at each other and laughed.
Chapter Five
The next morning, as Gerald sat at breakfast, idly wondering where the captain was, an imperious knocking commenced at the front door. Hastings, the butler, answered it, and immediately a commotion arose, composed of noise, barking, laughter, and overall, the clear fluting tones of Geneva, Lady Mattingly, issuing orders, inquiring about servants, and asking for her son.
His mother was home. Gerald rose to his feet with a sigh and a smile. He was very fond of her, as was everyone who knew her. New acquaintances understood immediately where Sir Gerald had acquired his notable patience, humor, and even temper. That she also enjoyed meddling in the affairs of her neighbors—she called it helping—was the other side of the coin.
Now she entered the dining room like a small, plump whirlwind. “Gerald, dearest! I am so very glad to see you.” She rushed forward to throw her arms around him when a low growl from the small dog in her arms reminded her that he detested any human but her. “Here, Hastings,” her ladyship said with a sunny smile, “do take Talleyrand away and find him something to eat! There, that’s a good boy.” Hastings, acting with what was clearly the greatest trepidation, gingerly took the small, snarling beast.
Lady Mattingly held out her arms to her son.
“Of whom are you speaking, Mama? Who is a good boy? Talley or me?”
“Why, dearest, how can you ask?” Geneva beamed at him. “Both of you, of course.”
“Come and sit down and let me get you some breakfast,” Gerald said, knowing his mother was always ready for a meal. “And do tell me why you have arrived a full fortnight before you were expected.”
“Just some tea, please, dear. I’m not hungry. And then I’ll tell you all about it. It was very vexing but at the same time most diverting.” With a contented sigh, Lady Mattingly sat down and looked around the room. “It is so nice to be home again. Much as I enjoyed Bath, I did miss my own bed. And I could not like the waters, although everyone told me that they did me a world of good. I cannot see it myself. Can you, dearest?”
“You are blooming, Mama, but I’m not sure it was the waters. I’ve heard they are quite nasty.”
Despite her instructions, Gerald set a plate of muffins, in addition to the tea, before his mother. She absently began to slather butter on one steaming morsel and took a bite.
“Umm, delicious. Mrs. Hasting’s muffins are as light as ever.” Smiling blissfully, Lady Mattingly sipped her tea and finished her muffin.
“What was so vexing but diverting, Mama? Is that what brought you home?”
“Yes, indeed it was, dearest. You must have noticed that Addie is not with me.”
Adelaide Cummings was a cousin who served as Lady Mattingly’s companion and general factotum. An aging spinster, she had been so long in his mother’s employ that sometimes she seemed to disappear.
“I thought she must be unpacking and seeing to Talleyrand’s bed.”
“No, no, nothing so tame. Gerald,” Lady Mattingly’s round face assumed an expression of awe. “You will never guess, never!” She clasped her hands and said, “Addie has married!”
Gerald sat back in his chair, his hand at his heart and his mouth open, burlesquing stunned surprise. In fact, it was a shock. Adelaide was on the shady side of forty, with no fortune or face to recommend her.
“And that has brought you home? You stayed for the wedding, I trust.”
“Well, of course, Gerald. I introduced her to the colonel. Now let me tell you all about it.”
And that she proceeded to do at great length but with a natural storyteller’s gift, making an amusing tale of the courtship of Adelaide by a stout, retired colonel, a widower these fifteen years. When she finished, Lady Mattingly looked at Gerald, her smile no longer in evidence, and said, “Now tell me when I may meet your guest. I have a great many thanks to give him for saving your life. Knowing men, you two probably shook hands and had a glass of brandy and that was that.”
“Exactly so, Mama. And that is just how Captain Sheridan and I would leave the topic.” Gerald frowned at her. “I warn you, he is not the man to stand for being wept over.”
“Now, Gerald, really! As if I would—”
Lady Mattingly’s words dried in her throat as the tall, austere figure of the captain loomed in the doorway. He paused upon seeing a lady present and made as if to turn away, when Lady Mattingly sprang to her feet and bustled over to him.
“You must be Captain Sheridan,” she said, smiling up at him. “I am Gerald’s mama, as if you couldn’t guess! I am but lately arriv
ed from Bath, and the very first thing I must do is thank you from the bottom of my heart.”
Her ladyship’s plump chin began to quiver, and the captain took a step backward, a look of extreme discomfort on his face.
“You must not exaggerate my role, my lady,” he said, his deep voice grave. “It was my good fortune to be able to render your son a trifling service, that is all.”
“You see, Mama, it was all in a day’s work for a hero of the British navy. Hardly worth even a brandy and a handshake.” Gerald rose and went to the captain’s rescue. He linked his arm with his mother’s and said, “Allow me to present Captain James Sheridan, late of His Majesty’s Navy. You must refrain from embarrassing him with too much praise.”
“Of course, Gerald. But I must make you welcome, sir. Has Gerald kept you amused? Has he managed to introduce you to any of our neighbors?”
The captain smiled. “Yes, Sir Gerald has been most kind. We have ridden over to Hedgemere several times.”
“Ah.” Lady Mattingly tapped her chin and gave the captain a speculative look. “Have you indeed? And what do you think of Gerald’s dear friend, Lady Margaret?”
“A most interesting and intrepid lady.” James could not, of course, mention his arrangement with Lady Meg to anyone until he had laid his financial and family affairs before her. Until then, he must risk the chance that she would choose to cry off.
“Indeed,” said Lady Mattingly. “Tell me, Captain, did you capture many rich French ships in your career? And have you retired? You seem so young to be land-bound forever, with no more adventures.”
“Mama, I beg you, allow our guest a few days before you start to pry information out of him so you can begin matchmaking.” Gerald led his mother back to her chair. “I have to tell you, Sheridan, that m’mother has the ingrained habit of trying to find spouses for every unmarried person of her acquaintance from sixteen to sixty. It is rather like living with Mrs. Noah— everyone must march two by two!”
“Now, Gerald, you know that’s not true at all. I was only making conversation.” Lady Mattingly’s plump face was smiling and her guileless eyes met those of the captain. “You must believe me, Captain. I would never do anything so presumptuous as attempting to find you a wife.”
James helped himself to breakfast and sat quietly, eating his usual spartan fare of toast and tea. Just as Gerald turned to his guest to inquire as to his plans for the day, Lady Mattingly said, “Gerald, dear, I think it would be most diverting if we were to have a few friends over for the evening. It seems as if I have been gone this age. We’ll have Meg and Miss Fairchild, and the vicar and his wife, and...”
Gerald looked at her with grave misgiving. “Who am I supposed to fall in love with this time. Mama? One of the vicar’s daughters? I will strive to do so if you will only stop looking at Captain Sheridan with that matrimonial gleam in your eye. It bears a frightening resemblance to Cook eyeing a prime roast of spring lamb.”
“Why, how can you say such a thing? I am mortified at my son’s lack of manners, Captain. I don’t know how he has had any success as a diplomat, rude as he is to his mother.”
“Doing it much too brown, Mama! I know you too well. When are we to welcome the spinsters of the parish to dine with us, so that all may make their choice?” Gerald leaned back, a smile lurking in his eyes. His mother’s vain attempts at subterfuge amused rather than annoyed him.
“I thought perhaps—this evening?” Lady Mattingly looked hopefully from one masculine face to the other. “If I sent notes around to everyone this morning, it could be done. Just an informal evening with a few friends.”
Gerald gave an exaggerated sigh. “We might as well let her have her party, Sheridan, for she will give us no peace until we do. Very well, Mama, we will attend, washed and brushed and ready to do the pretty this evening.”
* * * *
When she received Lady Mattingly’s note, Meg was by no means sure that she was going to enjoy the evening. It would be very uncomfortable to have to meet Captain Sheridan in public with so much still unsettled between them. She was beginning to regret her impulsive acceptance of his proposal. How should she act? Meg hated any form of dissimulation or subterfuge, yet she could hardly behave as if she and the captain were formally betrothed, when the banns hadn’t been posted and the settlements hadn’t been agreed to.
She heaved a sigh that was deep enough to make Annis look up from the copy of the Belle Assemblée she had been perusing. “What is amiss, Meg? Is it some hideous news?” She nodded toward the paper Meg was in the process of crushing.
“Yes. Lady Mattingly has only just returned, and she asks us to join them for an informal evening with some other neighbors.” She frowned. “I suppose we must go.”
Annis looked sharply at her and shook her head. “Are you afraid she will continue to push you and Sir Gerald together? I could not help but notice that she did so the last time he was home. Do you fear that will pose a problem with Captain Sheridan there, too?”
Meg shrugged impatiently. “No, no, I’m sure that she is well aware that Gerald and I have no deeper feelings than friendship for each other.”
“Are you certain, my dear?” Annis could have bitten her tongue when Meg looked over at her in surprise.
“You of all people should know the truth of that, Annis. How could you doubt it? I’ve told you so, and in any case you have seen us together. Could there be a clearer case of true friendship?”
“No, of course, I recognize that, but it would please Lady Mattingly, and Sir Gerald does know the neighborhood....” Annis wished devoutly she had never begun this conversation. She had revealed more than she’d ever intended, and Meg was too observant and too much of a friend to both Gerald and Lady Mattingly to approve of the unspoken, unacknowledged, but unquenchable feeling Annis had for him.
But Meg was her friend also. Perhaps for that reason, she said nothing further on the topic but turned the conversation to what they should wear for the evening. Annis had only one suitable dress. She consistently refused Meg’s offers to supply her companion’s wardrobe when she saw to her own modest needs. Annis bought fabric out of the wage Meg insisted on paying her. The rest went home to her family, who were always in need of it—not for themselves usually, but for some truly needy family the Reverend Fairchild desired to befriend.
“I have a feeling this is one of Lady Mattingly’s stir-the-pot evenings,” Meg said. “You know, where she simply puts everyone together and lets things develop if they will. She is still looking for a bride for Gerald among the local misses. I can’t think why. Surely she must know that after dancing with baronesses and grand duchesses at the Congress in Vienna, he’s not likely to settle for a provincial miss.”
Annis’s heart sank. Then she told herself not to be silly. She had known from the first moment she’d met Sir Gerald that he was far too well connected and wealthy for the likes of a country vicar’s daughter, even one whose papa was the youngest son of a baronet.
“Well, it should prove entertaining,” Annis managed to say.
“I’m not sure entertaining is the word,” Meg said with a wry smile. “As I recall, Lady Mattingly can be quite ruthless in throwing young people in each other’s way when she is of a mind to.”
* * * *
Later that afternoon, James rode over to Hedgemere, hoping for a word with Lady Margaret. He tried to think of how to tell her the truth about his birth. It had not come up so often in his life. He had told Gerald because Gerald had met his half-sister, Claire, during one of his diplomatic sojourns on the Continent. He had made the connection when James had mentioned her during one of their long and alcoholic dinners after they had made it to port aboard Relentless.
What Gerald had accepted with a shrug, Lady Margaret Enfield, whose life had been spent almost entirely in this snug little corner of a provincial world, would probably react by... James found he could not predict how Lady Meg would behave. She might be unsophisticated but there had not been the slightest
sign of missishness in her. The woman who birthed calves, rode neck or nothing, and coolly proposed to negotiate her own marriage settlement—perhaps, he thought with a sudden lift of heart, perhaps she would sail over this fence as well.
At that thought, he spurred his horse forward, only to receive a most unwelcome check when he arrived at the door. Lady Margaret was not at home. She had gone to the south field, where one of the workmen had been injured when the blade of a scythe had come loose and cut his arm.
James spurred Aladdin once again. When a surgeon was unavailable, he had tended the wounds of the men under him often enough to have acquired a rough knowledge of simple medicine. As he came to the field, he could see a group of workers gathered under a tree. Moving closer, he saw Meg in her dark blue habit, kneeling on the ground, attempting to wind a strip of linen around the arm of a man who lay unmoving.
James swung himself out of the saddle and hurried to stand over her. Briefly Meg looked up and said, “Good afternoon, Captain. As you can see, I am not receiving guests right now.”
“I’m not a guest, Lady Margaret.”
Meg’s head snapped up, and she glared at him. James stared blankly for a moment before he understood. She thought he was going to presume upon their understanding. He could feel his face heat with anger.
“I have some knowledge of wounds. I thought perhaps I could be of help.” His voice was the one he used to assure fellow officers that the duke’s bastard had no intention of claiming acquaintance with them if they should encounter each other in town. Icy and scornful.
Meg looked up, her clear eyes seeking his. He could read apology in their depths. “I would be grateful, Captain. I am finding it difficult to put sufficient pressure on the wound.”
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