A Suitable Husband

by Fenella Miller

  ‘You wouldn’t have heard me if I hadn’t shouted.’

  Sarah sighed. ‘Then you should have waited until you were near enough to speak, my love.’ She ruffled his hair, stuck damply to his grubby forehead. ‘Would you like to walk down to the Dower House, Edward? I have not fully inspected it since the repairs were completed.’

  ‘Yes, please, Rags wants a walk and he’d love to meet the new men; you know how he growls at strangers.’

  ‘Indeed I do, my dear. And I do not believe the new curate it will ever forget the experience, either.’

  Sarah, Edward, and his shadow, Rags, a curious mix of wolfhound and village mongrel, strolled off towards what was to be the residence of Captain Mayhew in two days’ time. The one mile walk took them through Home Wood, a charming arrangement of silver birch, hazelnut, and hornbeam, verdant with fresh spring growth and carpeted with blue bells.

  Suddenly the dog stopped and his hackles rose forming a fearsome ruff around his head. He curled back his lips and snarled, baring his fangs. Sarah froze and instinctively pulled Edward into her side.

  She whispered to the rigid animal. ‘What is it, Rags? What can you smell?’

  The dog remained at their side, protectively, staring at an enemy invisible to human eyes, lurking in the undergrowth ahead. Edward pressed closer to his mother, he was trembling.

  Sarah squeezed her son’s shoulder. ‘We will return to the house, Edward. It is possible there is a poacher in the wood.’ Still holding her son she turned, exposing their backs to the intruder. ‘Come along, darling I am sure, whoever it is, will be as relieved as we are not be forced to meet face-to-face.’

  She hurried back down the dappled path, glancing nervously from side to side. The trees, which moments before had been a delightful harbinger of summer now seemed full of danger and shadows. They were almost running when they emerged into the sunlight.

  Edward stopped. ‘Rags is still in there, Mama. We can’t leave him; I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.’

  ‘Call him, Edward. I am sure he will come back now you’re in no danger.’

  Edward drew breath to shout but his call was unnecessary for the dog loped out of the wood, the epitome of canine docility. Rags pushed his nose into Edward’s face and his long pink tongue cleaned up the tears. For once Sarah didn’t protest, instead she patted the hairy head with gratitude.

  ‘Good dog, Rags. What did you see in there?’

  ‘I told you he would be good with a burglar, Mama,’ her son said, his fear quickly forgotten.

  ‘And you were quite right, darling. Now, come along, I wish to have the wood investigated. I will send some of the grooms.’

  ‘Who do think it was, Mama?’

  ‘Poachers, Edward. I believe Lord Hepworth mentioned that there has been an influx of vagrants recently; probably they are displaced men who once fought in the wars.’

  Edward smiled and finally released his vice-like grip on his mother’s hand. ‘If they are ex-soldiers, Mama, then they won’t wish us any harm, will they?’

  ‘No, love; I am sure they were merely searching for something to eat, but it is better if they are discouraged from poaching in our woods.’ Sarah fixed on a smile and expertly turned the conversation to a less worrying subject.

  The men she sent to investigate found nothing untoward in the Home Wood, or anywhere else. Whoever might have been hiding there had, sensibly, retreated to less hazardous hunting grounds.

  Edward did not mention a visit to the Dower House again and made no protest when his mother restricted his freedom to the immediate environs of Rowley Court. That Jack, the thirteen-year-old stable lad, was now permanently at his side, he took as fortuitous, which suited Sarah well.

  She had swung from rather dreading the arrival of Edward’s tutor to eagerly anticipating the day. Whatever her personal reservations about Mayhew she would feel safer when he was living at the nearby.

  ***

  The first of May dawned bright and sunny, as befitted the official start of summer. Sarah had intended to take Edward to the village green to watch the maypole dancing but, instead, she sent him with Jack, his nurse-maid, Sally, two stout grooms, and his dog. If Edward thought this strange he did not comment; as long as he got to see the festivities he cared little who accompanied him. Rags was firmly attached to a piece of rope which Jack had been instructed to keep hold of at all times.

  Satisfied that she had provided her son was sufficient protection Sarah was able to turn her mind to the forthcoming meeting with Captain Mayhew. She had been informed he was already in residence; he had arrived the previous night. So she waited in the library for his arrival. However it was not of lesson plans and leisure schedules she wished to talk.

  Sarah paced the carpet, her dimity morning-gown swirling round her slippered feet at every impatient turn. She patted her neatly coiffed hair and wondered if she should have donned a cap; after all she was a widow, and in polite society a cap would be de rigueur. She sniffed inelegantly at the thought. She was an independent, wealthy woman and, expected or not, she would not wear such silly headgear.

  She heard, at last, the sound of masculine footsteps, preceded by the lighter footfalls of a housemaid. She turned to face the door, her face becomingly flushed by her exertions, her huge hazel eyes sparkling with eagerness.

  The maid announced the captain and he strode in. Before he could acknowledge his employer she stepped forward to greet him. ‘Captain Mayhew, welcome indeed. I have been counting the hours to your arrival. Come in, I have much to discuss with you.’

  Oliver was somewhat disconcerted by her enthusiasm. They had not parted on good terms, what could have happened in his absence to turn his employer from haughty lady to eager friend? Whatever it was, it could only be of benefit to his plans.

  ‘Good morning, Mrs Haverstock. I hope I find you well?’ His polite inquiry hung in the space between them. Belatedly Sarah realized she had allowed her anxiety to overcome her natural good manners.

  She flushed, and closing the gap, held out her hand. ‘Good morning, Captain, I am well, thank you. I hope you have found everything as it should be at the Dower House?’

  Oliver hesitated, and then took the proffered hand. He held it lightly, but still a wave of heat pulsed through his body. He half bowed and, dismayed by his reaction, released her instantly and stepped away. ‘Everything is splendid, thank you ma’am,’ he said gruffly. He cleared his throat. ‘I have Edward’s timetable here, as promised.’ He reached into his jacket and removed a bulky packet of closely written papers.

  ‘Good, good,’ Sarah took the packet and tossed it on to a nearby table. ‘I will study it later, thank you. Please be seated, I have something of far greater import to discuss.’

  They selected chairs as far apart as the restrictions of the room allowed. She waited for him to settle then began to explain her concerns. ‘Two days ago Edward and I decided to walk through the wood to inspect the Dower House and introduce ourselves to your men.’ She paused, closing her eyes for a second, as she relived the experience. She had his full attention now.

  ‘Go on, ma’am,’ he prompted.

  She shivered and shook her head hoping to dispel the sick feeling her thoughts had engendered. ‘We were in the deepest part, where the thickets are dense and the trees overhang the path. Do you know where I mean?’

  He nodded. The spot she mentioned was as far from either house as it was possible to be.

  ‘Rags heard something, or someone, and stopped and growled ferociously. I have never seen him so angry; he knew we were in danger and was protecting us.’

  ‘Did you see anything, ma’am?’

  ‘No, but I could feel malevolent eyes staring at us from the darkness ahead.’

  ‘What happened next?’

  ‘We turned back and I sent some of my men to
search, but they found nothing. Whoever had been there was long gone’

  ‘There are, I heard, vagrants in the vicinity; it was most likely a couple of them looking for rabbits, nothing to alarm yourself over, Mrs Haverstock.’

  The patronising dismissal of her fears incensed her. He had not been there, he had not breathed in the evil that had permeated the wood that day. She pushed her shoulders back, her informality gone. ‘Whatever your opinion of the matter, Captain Mayhew, I must insist your men patrol the woods on a regular basis. Neither will you permit Edward to venture there alone, at any time.’

  He clenched his teeth, his face expressionless. ‘Of course, madam; I fully understand. Do you wish to discuss my proposals for Edward?’

  Sarah glanced at the discarded papers. ‘I will study them later, Captain Mayhew. If you could attend me here, at four this afternoon, I will give you my opinion then.’ She stood. ‘Edward’s waiting in the schoolroom; I will have you conducted there.’

  She rang the bell and they stood in frosty silence until the maid arrived in answer to the summons. ‘Please take Captain Mayhew to the schoolroom.’ Sarah didn’t wait for him to exit; she turned her back and walked over to stare out of the library window. Her incivility was noted.

  ‘Come this way, sir, if you please.’

  The door closed allowing Sarah to give full rein to her anger. She had always prided herself on her calm and patient demeanour but that man would infuriate a saint. She needed to vent her spleen on something and snatched up an inoffensive copy of her latest novel and threw it, with more haste than accuracy, at the door. The resulting crash relieved her anger but destroyed the book.

  Immediately regretting her unaccustomed burst of fury she ran across and picked it up. ‘Oh dear! It is quite ruined and I have not read it yet,’ she exclaimed out loud. ‘Well, it serves me right. I should know better than to throw books at my age.’

  Hastily she collected the scattered pages and thrust them into the drawer of the handsome oak desk that dominated the centre of the library. Next she retrieved the papers Captain Mayhew had handed her. Reading them would be therapeutic and allow her jangled sensibilities time to recover.

  After half an hour of interminable detail she admitted defeat. She had been hoist with her own petard; he had left no minute of the day unaccounted for. When she had demanded a work schedule she had expected a page or two of details, a broad outline of the curriculum he intended to follow, but not this. What she had been given would take her several hours to read.

  Thoughtfully she placed the pile of, mostly unread, paper on the desk and weighted it down with the large painted stone Edward had decorated for her name-day gift. She had underestimated the captain, for his response to her demand had shown subtlety and a sense of humour. She recalled his introduction to Edward’s dog; he had laughed and shown no sign of annoyance.

  Her son would enjoy the company of a man who laughed easily. She smiled at the thought, knowing the captain would need not only the ability to see humour, where others might not, but also the patience of Job, if he was not to become exasperated with Edward. Even she was not blind to the fact that her son was headstrong.

  ***

  Sarah met with her Estate Manager, discussed the planting of the potager with her head gardener, and wrote a letter to her sister, who had recently produced a long-awaited son for her doting spouse, Sir James Humphrey, of Thrandeston, Norfolk. Of Edward, and his tutor, she saw nothing; but trusting he was in safe hands she felt no need to worry.

  After eating a light luncheon in the sunny, south facing, breakfast room she decided she needed some fresh air and exercise. It was far too pleasant a day to languish inside. Beth, her personal maid, was summoned and assisted her mistress to change from her morning dress into a dashing, military style, riding habit.

  The severity of the cut emphasized Sarah’s curves and the green reflected the colour in her eyes. Although she did not visit Town in season, Sarah was no dowd. She kept in touch with current trends and, selecting the less extreme designs from, ‘La Belle Assemblée’, had them made up by a mantua maker, Mrs Andrews, from the nearby town of Market Camden.

  The floating, transparent gauze, creations that were all the rage, were not for her. However she had adopted the high waistline and scooped neck, finding such garments comfortable. Contrary to all the dictates of society, she refused to wear a corset, believing freedom to breathe more important than fashion.

  Her mount, a pretty grey mare who answered to the soubriquet of ‘Smoke’, was patiently awaiting her arrival, at the foot of the white marble steps, her head held by Jack.

  ‘Good afternoon, Smoke is looking well.’

  ‘Thank you, madam.’ Jack, handed her up and placed her foot in the single stirrup. The young groom, William, who was to accompany her on a handsome bay hunter, mounted also.

  Skirts adjusted, Sarah gathered up the reins and Jack released the horse. ‘I am going to ride over to Hepworth House, William, across the park — the horses can stretch their legs there — and then we will take the lane through the village.’

  ‘Very well, madam.’ If William considered it strange they were not taking the shorter route through Home Wood, he kept the thought to himself.

  ***

  Sarah trotted up the drive happy, as always, to be visiting her mother-in-law. Lady Hepworth had remarried after the death of her first husband, Henry Haverstock, and now had a brood of hopeful daughters. Lord Hepworth, an amiable man, loved his step-grandson as dearly as his own children.

  A groom hurried round to hold Smoke. William knew better than to offer to assist his mistress to dismount. The butler opened the door as Sarah arrived at the top step, her feathered tricorn hat held in one hand, her skirts gathered up in the other. ‘

  ‘Her ladyship is in the orangery, madam.’

  ‘Thank you, I shall find my own way.’ Sarah replied, glad ceremony was not stood on here, any more than it was at Rowley Court.

  Her mother-in-law beamed as Sarah entered. ‘Welcome, my dear. I was hoping you would come over today and tell me how your Captain Mayhew is settling in.’

  Sarah bent over and kissed the proffered cheek, the soft flesh warm under her lips. ‘You are looking well, Harriet, that shade of lavender suits you.’

  Lady Hepworth smoothed the silk between her plump fingers. ‘It is a pretty colour, is it not? Though I am not at all certain this new high-waisted look is suitable for a woman of my size and years.’

  ‘Nonsense, you look lovely. You are neither old, nor fat, so do not fish for compliments.’

  Harriet chuckled. ‘I am eight and forty, and well you know it, Sarah, and seriously overweight.’

  ‘You are a little plump, I agree, and indeed, who would not be after producing five children?’ She settled herself comfortably on the deep cushioned armchair. ‘How are the girls?’

  ‘Blooming, as always. Miss Briggs has taken them on a nature walk to the bluebell woods, so we have time for a comfortable coze.’

  It was after five when Sarah left Hepworth House. She had completely forgotten she had arranged to meet with Captain Mayhew at four o’clock that afternoon.

  Chapter Three

  Sarah drew rein outside her front door. She dismounted and smiled her thanks to her groom and patted her horse’s sweat stained neck. The time was now a little after six o’clock and she recalled, from her son’s itinerary, that he should now be in the schoolroom preparing his lessons for the following day.

  As she ran up the steps two thoughts occurred to her simultaneously, neither of them happy. The first, that she had sent the captain up to the schoolroom after their brief meeting and her son would not have been there because she had allowed him to go to the village to visit the May fair. The second, that she had ordered him to attend her at four o’clock, and she had also been absent.

  With a
sinking heart she entered the hall. The housekeeper bustled up to meet her. ‘Madam, Captain Mayhew has been waiting to see you in the library for the past two hours. He is still there. I’ve offered him refreshments but he has refused.’

  ‘Would you send in my sincere apologies for wasting his time? I will see him tomorrow after breakfast.’ Sarah hurried up the stairs and along the wide, light-filled, passageway to her bedchamber. She had no desire to be accosted by the man she had left kicking his heels for over two hours.

  At her chamber door she paused, undecided, then turned and walked briskly back. She had been unpardonably rude and it was her duty to make her apologies; Captain Mayhew maybe her employee but he deserved to be treated with respect.

  She reached the spacious marble-tiled hall the same time as the captain. For a moment they stood, eyes locked, frozen, on her part by embarrassment and on his by anger.

  Sarah broke the silence ‘Captain Mayhew, I am so sorry, I have no excuse for my incivility. I realize that twice today I have misdirected you.’

  The hardness of his jaw relaxed, he nodded, stiffly. ‘After your encounter with poachers, madam, I was naturally becoming worried by your continued absence.’

  ‘Thank you for your concern. I can only apologize again, sir. There was no problem, I am afraid I had completely forgotten that I had arranged to meet with you.’ She smiled, warmed by his concern for her welfare. It was years since anyone had taken note of her whereabouts.

  She laughed, the unexpected sound disarmed him. He smiled back and, for the first time, Sarah felt the impact of his charm. Her mouth went dry and she felt a peculiar sensation deep inside her. She took an involuntary step back and trod clumsily on the hem of her skirt and stumbled. An iron-hard hand shot out and caught her. His touch burnt through the sleeve of her habit.

  The captain snatched his hand back and moved away, his expression unreadable. ‘If you will excuse me, madam, I have left my charge too long unattended.’