by Abigail Agar
Henry sat as the carriage went on towards his father’s estate. He fumed. Every rut the carriage hit threw him off his perch and made him feel less powerful. It made his doubt increase.
Was his father serious about sequestering him in the dower house? He hadn’t thought so. How many times had his father covered for him, covering up his botched job? He’d come to his senses soon. His reputation depended on it.
The carriage stopped at the Cotswold Center Inn, the inn the Duke frequented on his first leg home. Henry walked in and knocked on the wooden desk, demanding service.
“Jack, where are you?” Jack came to the desk, hurrying to serve the heir.
“My Lord?” he asked.
“I need a room. And I need these two,” Henry pointed with his chin at the two men who stood still, holding their weapons, “to sleep in your barn.”
“I will eat alone. Put something in a napkin for them before you send them away.”
Jack looked at Henry, then at the men with him, then back at Henry.
“I’m sorry, My Lord, but I received a missive earlier today from the Duke, instructing me to keep the men with you at all times. They are to eat with you, as well as your coach driver, and to guard your room inside and out.”
Henry took a step back, shocked by the instructions. “Inside and out?”
“One of his men in the room with you and another outside the door. He was very specific in his instructions, My Lord.”
Henry’s anger blew up. “The Duke will hear about this, and we will never use this establishment again.”
Jack seemed unfazed. “Let me show you to a table in the tavern, My Lord.”
He did, and almost immediately, a buxom server missing two front teeth came up and smiled. She put four ales on the table. Henry wondered why someone with teeth like that would smile. She looked foolish.
She told them the stew would be out shortly. Meanwhile, Henry looked at each of his dinner guests in turn. In a lower voice meant to menace them as well as keep other patrons from hearing them, he began his rant.
“My father is a Duke and will severely punish the three of you once he understands what you are doing. Yes, he wants me away from the ton for a month or two, but he would never tolerate the lengths you have gone through.
“I will write him this evening and ask him to respond at our next stop. Then, this farce will be over.”
Their barmaid delivered the stew as well as bread. Henry’s guards at the table drank their ale, ate in silence, and didn’t even meet each other’s eyes. Wilson had briefed them about what he expected of them. He had secretly enjoyed giving out his instructions. He had thought the men would enjoy following them.
Their barmaid brought more ale and another bowl of stew and more bread for the four men when Henry made a calculated move and announced he was going to his room. He smirked when the men stood, mid-meal to join him.
Henry was disappointed none of the men grumbled about leaving bowls of stew on the table. He would wait until they were asleep and slip out then, riding one of the coach horses to freedom. But first, he had a letter to write.
Father,
A grave mistake was made. Wilson has taken his responsibility for me to the extreme. If you know of the hardship I have had to endure, you will put a stop to it.
Armed men surround me at all times. Even behind the screen and in bed. I’m sure you meant for the men to escort me, not imprison me.
Send a missive to the next stop in our journey so you can straighten out the duties these men are supposed to perform.
Henry
He waited with great anticipation for the next stop at the Carriage Road Inn. After a long bumpy road that threw him from one side of the carriage to another, he hurried down the carriage stairs to the desk just inside the door. Charlie was standing there, an amused look on his face.
“Charlie, I need a room and a place for these three,” he swept his hand toward them, “to stay for the night. You can wrap some bread and cheese, and we can send them on their way.”
Charlie shook his head and leaned one hand on his desk. “I’m sorry, My Lord, but I have my orders to keep these men by your side.”
“Who gave you such orders,” Henry said indignantly.
Charlie took out a page of vellum from underneath his desk. “Your father, the Duke.”
Henry grabbed the vellum and read it, and then went back and read it carefully again, searching for loopholes. He crumpled it up and threw it in the fireplace closest to the door.
“I have prepared a room with two beds as instructed and have prepared food. Would you like to sit for the food now?”
Henry was furious and disappointed at the same time. His letter to his father meant nothing. And these men were not going to back off. For the first time, Henry understood that he might not be in a situation of misunderstanding. His father never reacted in this way in the past, so he had no reason to believe he would this time. Could this time really be different?
Had having ceded the responsibilities to Lord Sutton caused this to be real? He would have to wait until he got to Edgewood. Someone there with loyalties to him would save him.
When he went to his room earlier last evening to keep the men from enjoying a second bowl of stew, he had only hurt himself. The rest of the evening, he sat in a small, narrow room with nothing but a fireplace, a desk, and chair, two small beds, a ewer and bowl and a screen behind which he could meet his needs.
Charlie’s wife, dirty apron, hair flowing out of her cap in odd places and a suspicious rash on the back of her hands came to the table to serve four ales. She came back with two loaves of brown bread and a large block of cheese with a knife.
The men allowed Henry to go first then took a generous portion for themselves. She came back with the stew, filled to the top. Henry tried it and found it palatable. The men dunked the bread into the stew, and Henry called for another loaf.
The men eyed Henry and what Henry thought was a dare for him to get up and leave the table to go to bed. Henry wasn’t planning on it, but if he were, those eyes would have changed his mind.
All were full, and the second tankard of ale topped off the pleasure of the meal. The sleep that came to all four men was surprisingly comfortable and quiet. The men rotated from the bed to the room to outside the bedroom door. Each got rest.
All sighed relief the next morning, planning to arrive at the final destination in the late afternoon. Henry wasn’t sure he could straighten out his problem within minutes of arrival.
The downpour began within a half hour after the start of their journey home. Henry wasn’t happy about the carriage having to slow because of this turn of events. He pounded on the ceiling of the carriage, “Faster, man, faster.”
After the fourth call for the driver to go faster, the driver stopped the carriage, got down from his perch, and peered into the window of the carriage.
“Let me explain something to whoever is pounding on the ceiling yelling for me to go faster. I don’t have the benefit of being inside this dry carriage during this bad weather. I have to sit in the pouring rain. Not only do I have to sit in it but also I must slow my speed since it’s difficult to see the ruts from the rain on the road.
“If the ceiling is pounded on again, I will pull the carriage over, and wait out the rain with you inside the dry carriage.”
He turned and began to walk to his perch when he heard Henry say, “Get back here now and address me properly. Do not speak to me as if I were a commoner. Back here now.”
The carriage lurched and moved forward. Henry was both furious and flabbergasted. How dare he speak to his betters in that way. He couldn’t wait to fire the arrogant driver without a reference. He would make sure that man never got another job anywhere in England.
He looked at the men across from him. They continued to stare straight ahead. They had not said a word since the moment Henry had the displeasure of seeing them come and take him away. Talking with them would be a waste of his breath �
�� they weren’t going to talk back.
He had to wait. If he was second as the caretaker of the estate, the steward, Frank Abbott was authorized to act as if he were third. If they wouldn’t listen to him, Frank would straighten them out. Frank straighten them out? Probably not. He was an underling. Why did they need to be straightened out? He should have had complete and total authority. His father had taken this whole attempted murder thing to a new level of ridiculousness.
Henry leaned his head back onto the edge of the cushion and closed his eyes. His father meant to give him trouble this time.
When the carriage drove up the long, tree-lined path to the estate, it took a right turn onto a small, less travelled path. The path led to the dower house.
He remembered his father saying something about the dower house. Was he really supposed to live there? There were only ten bedchambers, a dozen rooms, and the servants’ quarters. It was tiny.
The carriage halted in front of Henry’s new quarters. Not knowing what to expect, Henry was slow to leave the carriage.
“My Lord,” Minton bowed.
“Minton, what are you doing here?” Henry asked.
“I have the pleasure of being your butler, My Lord,” Minton answered.
“My butler?”
“Yes, My Lord. You must be in need of refreshment after your journey. Should I ordered tea and explain my duties for you?”
“Yes, I believe that will be necessary.”
*****
Minton waited in the parlour, tea and refreshments on the table in front of a comfortable chair, waiting while Henry took care of personal needs.
Henry and his guards arrived, sat, and Minton began to prepare his tea. While he did, Henry looked at him. “Go on, Minton.”
Minton viewed his duty with both glee and misery. The heir, as all the servants in the house referred to Henry, was now a prisoner. With glee, Minton and a select few were his servants.
They would watch his descent into misery. And see what would come of him. He would cause misery, no doubt. And Minton would be the person he would most lash out at.
“My duties as your butler were given to me by His Grace along with a Lord Wilson Sutton. Your father has deferred to Lord Sutton in all things. I am to report to Lord Sutton regularly and give him an accounting of the goings on in the household.”
Minton waited for the onslaught but did not yet hear it. The heir’s face was red, and his eyes twitched, but he said nothing.
Minton continued to stand straight, unwavering. “You have servants, a cook, and her assistant, a household maid, someone to attend to your wash, and you have me.”
“What?” Henry was on his feet and moved toward Minton. His guards moved to stand between them.
Henry looked at each of them and sat. “Minton, why such a small group of servants,” he said, his hands balled into fists.
“If, My Lord, you wish additional servants, tell me the type of servant you require, and I will send a request to Lord Sutton.”
Henry leaned back in his chair and gave a short laugh.
“I am to make sure you have two guards with you at all times, twenty-four hours per day. I took the liberty of moving a small bed into your bedchamber for the guard assigned overnight duty. Another guard will sleep across the bedchamber door.
“Lord Sutton has installed bars on each window in the house, upstairs and down. After a search found there were no passages inside the walls of the house, no passageways needed to be blocked. Your father generously built an area on the roof for you to use at your leisure and to get fresh air.
“He will provide any food to your liking and any books that may interest you. All clothing you need will be provided.”
Henry was gritting his teeth. He said in a low growl, “Is that all, Minton?”
“Almost, My Lord.”
“Then, do go on Minton.”
“The house has been removed of all shop objects or items that could be used as weapons. The servants will rotate through from the main house every fortnight to minimize the possibility of one not following her orders and lapsing for your benefit. I believe that is all, but if I have overlooked anything, I will let you know, My Lord.”
“How kind of you. Thank you, Minton.”
Minton bowed, “My Lord.” He walked out of the parlour by the two men guarding Henry and smiled. After all the years of verbal abuse, it felt good to be the one to deliver the news. No less than four had volunteered.
*****
Penelope received a letter from Edgewood written by Wilson Sutton. It was an upbeat letter about the dower house changes. He assured Penelope there would never be a problem with Henry again. He invited her to see for herself. She was welcomed to Edgewood any time.
Penelope smiled but would not take up Wilson’s offer. She was far too busy in London. The season was about to begin, and she was holding teas for mothers and daughters concerned the daughters’ looks or manners would hamper their search for a gentleman.
Penelope didn’t know how word spread, but it did. There was a waiting list for having tea with her. The girls and mothers had disadvantages, and Penelope knew she could help.
Penelope met with three mothers and daughters at a time, just as she did before her season. She started by getting to know the girls and their problems.
She told them her issues as an underdog. “As you can plainly see, I have a large scar going down the left side of my face. It was the first thing everyone saw. Gentlemen were drawn to the girls I stood next to then felt obliged to dance with me. Once, a gentleman asked me to dance so he could practice dancing.
“It got so bad that Mother asked another more seasoned mother if there were other ways to meet gentlemen. We can go to that later.”
“A gentleman I had met years ago saw me, danced with me, and is now my husband. It was dumb luck, really. Both of us being in the same room. But you cannot count on dumb luck, so we need do more than walk.
“It is universally known that anyone, man or woman, enjoys talking about themselves, telling you about themselves.
“Let’s brainstorm. You must come up with openings with the goal of having a gentleman talk to you about himself. Putting the gentleman at ease is also paramount.”
Penelope’s teas would go along in that vein until she gave them four or five tips. She would speak specifically to certain elements like crooked teeth or bad acne.
Gentlemen, of course, might be imperfect and as such be more welcome to a lady also imperfect. They were more apt to see beyond the physical beauty of a woman. And, Penelope found, they were very kind and appreciative.
Nash would sometimes come in and introduce himself like Avery had done to her tea group long ago. Nash charmed them. When Edward happened to be with Nash, and he was introduced around, the room would be abuzz with whispers.
Nash was nice to meet, but Edward wasn’t married.
Penelope found it novel when the first wedding invitation came in but soon realized all ‘her girls’ invited her to their weddings. Nash groaned, but Penelope never let them miss a wedding. She was so proud of each girl that defied the odds and found her match. She kept her wedding invitations in a basket in her parlour. New girls would come to Penelope and see the basket full of invitations, and their eyes would widen.
At the wedding party, she and Nash would waltz, and she could hear the whispers, “She’s the one who gives the teas. See her scar?”
She whispered to Nash, “They are looking at you. Shall I turn and tell them all you’re mine?”
Nash would shake his head. “They are looking at me thinking how lucky I am to have such a wonderful wife as you.”
*****
Chapter 28
Avery’s butler, Waters, announced “Lord Edward Balfour.”
He bowed.
Avery returned the bow.
Avery went to the decanter and poured two whiskies. He turned. “Shall we sit by the fire?”
Edward followed him to the two upholstered chairs fa
cing the fire. The two most comfortable chairs in the room.
Edward took his glass, waited for Avery to sit, and then sat himself.
Avery shook his head and muttered something unintelligible, not meant for Edward, then looked at him.
“No doubt you have heard that Henry is gone.”
Edward nodded.
Avery felt the need to go over ground he was sure Edward heard. He wanted to make sure Edward heard it right.
Avery shifted in his chair. “No doubt, you have by now heard about what happened to Henry. Wilson, Penelope, and I wrote up an agreement that Henry is to remain in the dower house on Edgewood for the remainder of his days. A more comfortable prison than his alternative, but a prison nonetheless.
