Journeys

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  Copyright

  ISBN 1-59310-788-9

  Copyright © 2005 by Tamela Hancock Murray. All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work in whole or in part in any form by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the permission of Truly Yours, an imprint of Barbour Publishing, Inc., PO Box 719, Uhrichsville, Ohio 44683.

  All scripture quotations are taken from the King James Version of the Bible.

  All of the characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or to actual events is purely coincidental.

  Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses.

  One

  “Newgate. That is precisely where you will go if you are not able to settle your accounts with due haste. I managed to hold off your creditors until after Christmas, but since the advent of the new year, they want their money. Now.”

  Her solicitor’s words rang through Lady Dorothea Witherspoon’s mind. She shuddered at the thought of the wretched conditions she would be forced to endure in debtor’s prison if she did not somehow convince her cousin to let her borrow a small fortune, ten thousand pounds. The thought of having to beg a distant relative she barely knew left her stomach in a knot.

  She decided to concentrate instead on the bold music she heard playing in the nearby ballroom of her cousin’s country estate. Yet the merry tune and jovial voices of Helen’s guests did little to cheer her. She inhaled the delicious scent of hot apple cider seasoned with cinnamon. Dorothea imagined herself partaking of a cup, warming her body and soul. Had she been hungry, aromas of meat pies and sugary pastries would have been tempting, for pleasant fragrances told Dorothea that Helen obviously had set out a feast for her guests. Surely a cousin who could host such extravagance could find a way to help Dorothea when her need was so great.

  Heavenly Father, please allow Helen to let me have the money. If she chooses not to offer me any assistance, I have no notion where to turn.

  Dorothea hadn’t meant to arrive in the midst of a party, but the delay of her journey by coach couldn’t be helped. Thankfully she was wearing her best traveling suit. The rented coach had stopped at an inn in the village to allow the passengers to rejuvenate themselves. As a result, Dorothea’s assurance that she appeared fresh gave her enough fortitude to assure that strangers wouldn’t know how much her back hurt or that her muscles still felt tight from the long and bumpy trip to the country from London.

  “I will make my excuses, have Helen show me to my quarters, and retire,” she muttered.

  Dorothea felt a gaze upon her. She looked in the direction of the ballroom doorway to the west and spied a tall man standing with posture erect, as though he felt proud of his stature. In spite of his distance from her, the force of his presence emanated across the expansive foyer to where she stood. His notice of her made her feel shy; she made a point of noticing the potted plant next to a mahogany occasional table.

  She could still feel him studying her, so she returned his interest. Inquisitive eyes peered back at her and fit well with his strong, manly features that she found quite appealing to view. His form was apparent, backlit from party lights. A dark waistcoat hugged his masculine chest and showed off a trim middle. His glance locked with hers for an instant, just long enough to express interest. In the demure manner of a lady, she drank in a glimpse of his handsome countenance and dark wavy hair, then averted her eyes to study dancing flames in the fireplace. Perhaps she could summon the strength to make an appearance at the festivities after all.

  Her admirer slipped back into the crowd when Helen, dressed in a stylish gown fashioned of green silk, bounded into the foyer. “Dorothea. I am so glad you are finally here. I was anticipating your arrival late yesterday.”

  “Good evening, Helen. I thought you might greet me in French. I have been brushing up on the language just so we could converse.”

  Helen’s laugh echoed against the tall corners of the room. “Now that I am a mother, I have overcome my girlish urge to follow the trend of speaking French. In fact, you will find little French spoken here at all anymore. My friends and I found such pomposity amusing for a time, but no longer.”

  Dorothea couldn’t express disappointment at such an announcement. She ventured onto safe conversational territory. “How is your little girl?”

  “Very sweet.”

  ❧

  Helen chattered on about herself and her immediate concerns, not bothering to ask Dorothea much about herself or the purpose of her visit. She surmised that if the butler hadn’t taken her winter coat and hat, she would still be wearing her outer garments throughout Helen’s monologue.

  As was her nature, Dorothea could find an excuse for Helen. From a closer relation, Dorothea would have expected an immediate embrace, but she hadn’t seen Helen in more than a decade, and her cousin’s vain nature had demonstrated itself in her self-absorbed letters. The lack of warmth didn’t surprise her.

  “I am so sorry for any inconvenience I have caused you,” Dorothea apologized after Helen spent herself on the litany. “I certainly never would have timed my arrival for the midst of a party. Icy rains slowed the progress of our coach.”

  “I suspected as much. We have been experiencing our share of inclement weather this week. Well, no one can help the rain. How could I not forgive a cousin I have not seen in so long?” Helen looked into her face. “Yes, I would recognize you anywhere. Those blue eyes are as striking as ever. And your hair has not darkened a bit with age. Still as bright a blond as ever.”

  “And you are even more beautiful than the young woman you were—the woman I always envied,” Dorothea said.

  And still do.

  How fortunate Helen was not to have a care in the world. She was married to a man she loved, and she had given birth to a healthy girl in the autumn of 1815. All that, and they were wealthy. Wealthy enough never to worry. They didn’t have a father who cared so little about them that he gambled away their rightful inheritance.

  Only after Father’s death had Dorothea discovered her plight. To Dorothea’s mind, his creditors weren’t playing fair to demand payment from his estate, but they did—the exceptions being only two merchants who were fond friends of her family. The other men, mainly unsavory proprietors of gaming establishments, held their palms out for prompt payment almost as soon as her father’s casket was forever closed. They cared not a whit about her plight. They only demanded their money.

  After the initial shock waned, she made every effort to satisfy Father’s creditors. She sold her London home, where she had spent happy childhood years oblivious to her parents’ problems. Desperate, she sold her jewels, china, silver, and other family heirlooms. Such items were but earthly trinkets, yet they were meant to be passed to her own children and grandchildren. The people who bought them were pleased enough with their bargains gained from the forced sale. Dorothea was certain they wouldn’t appreciate them nearly as much as her heirs would have. Even then, the turmoil hadn’t seemed worth the effort. The money raised still proved insufficient. Her mother would be heartbroken if she knew her treasures had ended up in the hands of unsentimental strangers, and insulted if she could have witnessed how Dorothea had been forced to part with many of her possessions for a fraction of their worth.

  She needed more money. Ten thousand pounds, to be exact. And it was all her father’s fault. Why had he been so reckless?

  For the hundredth time, Dorothea reminded herself that bitterness toward her father would do no good and would displease the Lord. After all, the only reason he had been so careless was because his heart had been broken over her
dear mother’s death.

  Whether as a loan or gift, Dorothea didn’t care what terms Helen asked regarding the money as long as she could settle her debts until she could decide how to proceed with the rest of her life—a life that had suddenly changed in its expectations.

  “You envied me?” Helen waved her fan more to proclaim her slight embarrassment at being complimented than to cool herself against a winter’s night. “Ah, but no doubt all the girls your age envy you. Surely now that you are out of mourning you will be the center of attention at every social occasion.”

  Dorothea was just about to object when she remembered the mystery man. “I do enjoy socials.”

  “Good.” Helen tilted her head toward the party. “Do change out of that traveling suit and into a gown. You must join the birthday celebration.”

  “Ah, so this is a birthday celebration.”

  “Yes, in honor of Baron Hans von Lunenburg.”

  “Oh.” Judging from Helen’s look, she expected Dorothea to know the guest of honor. “I do not believe I have had the pleasure of meeting him. I do not suppose he is a dark-haired gentleman wearing a fine blue suit?”

  “Why would you think that?”

  “I just saw someone standing in the doorway.” Dorothea tilted her head to where the handsome man had been.

  “Actually, Baron von Lunenburg has light brown hair and a mustache, so he must not be the one you saw.”

  “This man was about thirty and tall and trim.”

  Helen thought for a moment. “That sounds like Lord Stratford Brunswick.”

  “Lord Stratford Brunswick.” A name of dignity and style that sounded distinctive as it rolled off her tongue.

  Helen shrugged. “His pedigree is acceptable but minor.”

  Dorothea resisted the urge to remind Helen that a baron was one of the lower-ranking members of the European aristocracy. “There is more to a person than pedigree.”

  “To a poor woman, yes. But remember, you are a Witherspoon.”

  Dorothea tried not to flinch. Helen still didn’t know the damage Father had done to the Witherspoon name and that at this point in time many of her privileged and wealthy peers would consider her poor. She dreaded her anticipated request doubly.

  “So,” Helen ventured, “I assume your visit here is more than just to renew old family ties?”

  Dorothea’s throat tightened. Had Helen indeed already heard about her father’s penchant for gambling? She swallowed and took a breath. “What do you mean?”

  Helen cocked her head and regarded her through slyly slitted eyes. “You have come here to find a husband?”

  Dorothea didn’t know whether to laugh or to feel more nervous. Marriage wasn’t without appeal. But she could offer no dowry. Rather, she would be a drain on a new husband’s coffers. Who would consider her?

  No one.

  She cleared her throat. “Finding a husband is not on my mind in the least. I–I have other affairs to tend to that are far more pressing at the moment.”

  Helen fanned her face with renewed vigor. “What do you mean?”

  Dorothea couldn’t speak. She looked at the points of her kid leather boots, fashioned for her during better times. From the corner of her eye, she noticed a few stragglers had wandered into the area by the ballroom to watch the flames flicker in the fireplace. Whereas Helen and Dorothea had been able to speak in privacy before, the guests’ presence meant they could now be overheard.

  “Come.” Helen took her by the arm. “Let us go into the study.” She motioned at a nearby manservant. “Take Lady Witherspoon’s baggage to her quarters. The Elizabeth Room on the east wing.”

  “Yes, milady.” He hurried to obey.

  Helen glanced at the grandfather clock positioned near the fireplace. “I shall show you to your bedchamber with haste after we speak in the study,” Helen told her. “I have only a few moments. Certainly my guests have noticed my absence by now.”

  “I can wait.”

  “But I cannot.” Concern colored her face, a fact that relieved Dorothea. Perhaps Helen was prone to compassion after all.

  She followed Helen upstairs to the study. On the way Dorothea noticed portraits of ancestors hanging in the large hallways. Some she recognized as ancestors she shared with Helen. Others she assumed were related to Helen’s mother—people with whom she wasn’t familiar since she and Helen were related through their fathers—or members of the Syms lineage. A painter herself, she noticed the fine brushstrokes and how the eyes of the subjects seemed to follow her as she walked, both signs that the muses had commissioned superior artists. The portraits showed their subjects dressed in the most fashionable and fine garments of their time in history. Surely Helen had made an equal match in lineage and wealth.

  The study was no disappointment in luxury or comfort despite the fact that the fire had died. Judging from the placement of two desks and matching bookcases on opposite sides of the room, Helen and Luke shared it. Dorothea wondered why, since the house was large enough that such sharing shouldn’t have been necessary. Dorothea imagined they enjoyed working together in close proximity. The thought of such a happy marriage panged her heart with unwanted envy.

  Heavenly Father, forgive me.

  Dorothea took one of the seats in front of Helen’s desk, a petite model carved in an elaborate fashion. Helen sat in the one across from her.

  “Now that we are alone, you can feel free to be candid. I need to know, what is the real reason for your visit?”

  “I have a request. I’m afraid it is not a small one.” Dorothea swallowed and wondered if Helen would demand that she leave hardly before she had entered. The prospect of venturing back out into the frigid evening just so she could find a room for the night at the local inn held little attraction. More importantly, minor pedigree or not, she wanted to meet Lord Stratford Brunswick before she left.

  “What is it? I do not have an indeterminate period here.” The edge in Helen’s voice left her feeling even uneasier.

  Dorothea wasn’t sure where to begin, so she jumped in with both feet but with the dread of one taking a dare to swim the filthy Thames River. “I am sure you can imagine how the deaths of my parents have changed my circumstances.”

  Helen tapped her foot. “Of course. I know losing both parents so unexpectedly has been a hardship for you.”

  “Yes. I miss them both terribly. Especially dear Mother.”

  “But at least you are well equipped to find a husband. I assume my uncle left you with plenty of money to offer suitors a handsome dowry—one large enough to impress even worldly gentlemen in London.”

  “Regrettably, my situation is not quite as comfortable as you imagined.”

  “Really?” Dorothea could see that Helen’s shock was genuine. “Why not?”

  “I suppose you heard how heartbroken Father was after Mother’s death.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “He took her death to heart. Blamed himself for it, really. I would often hear him lament that if only he had not insisted on taking her on that trip abroad, she never would have caught pneumonia and. . .and. . .” Real tears, not waterworks put on for Helen’s benefit, escaped her eyes.

  “I am so sorry.” Helen’s voice took on a tone of genuine compassion as she leaned over and tapped Dorothea’s knee. “I know that one never really recovers from the death of one’s parents. That is why I am glad you decided to spend a few weeks here in the country with us. The time away from the city will do you good.”

  “Yes.”

  “I want you to know that you can stay here with us as long as your heart desires. Never worry. Luke and I will not put you out.”

  “Thank you.” Dorothea had no intention of asking to take up permanent or even semipermanent residence with her cousin, but the offer did her good.

  “From the looks of the few bags you brought, you certainly could not survive here more than a fortnight or a month at best. The time will fly by all too rapidly.”

  She doesn’t realiz
e this is everything I have in the world now.

  There was nothing more—either emotionally or physically—awaiting her in London. Her plan had been to take some of the money and find a respectable position as a nanny or governess. Room and board would of course be included in any such situation. Dorothea was determined to earn her own way. Never did she want to fall into the trap of being considered no more than a poor relation, passed off from distant relative to distant relative to rely on their Christian charity, possibly for the rest of her life. Such a situation was one she just couldn’t endure. Never.

  She only hoped to remain with Helen long enough to receive word from one of the inquiries she had already put out before she left. She supposed she should have rented a respectable room before she left, to provide a London address where responses could be sent, but she didn’t want to spend an extra penny. And perhaps she could find a position in the country where she could remain near Helen, the closest family member she knew at the moment.

  Dorothea opened her mouth to explain all to Helen, but Helen rose. “Well, now that is all settled, and you can enjoy yourself.”

  “But—”

  “But nothing.” She smiled. “Now make haste to don your favorite gown.” She looked Dorothea over from head to toe. “I suggest a fine blue or green would go best with your light hair. Blue to flatter the color of your eyes.”

  “Yes, I possess such.” Her skilled seamstress had made sure to fashion flattering gowns for Dorothea that didn’t adopt the most extreme flights of vogue’s fancy. Though sewn before her father’s death, they remained well enough within current fashion dictates to prove acceptable for such an occasion.

  “Jenny will show you to your quarters. Do hurry.”

  “I will.” Now that she had eyed Lord Brunswick, Dorothea was determined not to miss another moment of the happy gathering.

  Helen touched her shoulder. “And never forget, you need not worry about a thing.”

  Dorothea’s conscience got the better of her. She couldn’t delay telling Helen. “Oh, but I do.”

  Helen withdrew her comforting hand. “Whatever do you mean?”