Journeys

by Murray, Tamela Hancock

  Stratford pictured Lunenburg’s arms around Dorothea and flinched. He didn’t dare speak his mind.

  Please, Lord, let Lunenburg see reason.

  Lunenburg let the moment of silence drag before answering. “Let me counter your proposal. What if you sweeten the deal with a hundred pounds for my trouble? If you do, then Lady Dorothea Witherspoon—and her load of debt—are all yours.”

  A hundred pounds. A reasonable price indeed. He didn’t hesitate. “Done. I will send a bank draft by messenger to you first thing in the morning.”

  “Very well.” Lunenburg looked both relieved and elated as he got up from his seat. Stratford followed suit. Lunenburg extended his hand, and Stratford shook it, sealing the agreement.

  Stratford lifted his forefinger. “Oh, and one last thing.”

  Lunenburg stiffened. “Our contract is set. We shook hands.”

  “And I will live up to my part of the agreement. What I ask now will cost you nothing. I only request that no one is to be made aware of our arrangement.”

  Shock covered Lunenburg’s expression. “No one? Not even the lady herself?”

  “That is right.”

  Lunenburg crossed his arms. “But why?”

  “Because I use scripture as my guide. The sixth chapter of the book of St. Matthew proclaims, ‘But when thou doest alms, let not thy left hand know what thy right hand doeth: that thine alms may be in secret: and thy Father which seeth in secret himself shall reward thee openly.’ ”

  “I said it before and I will say it again. Your rabid talk of religion does not fool me,” Lunenburg responded. “I know what reward you seek, and your reward is not from a father.”

  Stratford’s patience had expired. “How dare you. I have had enough of your insults. In my grandfather’s day, such talk would have led to a duel. A contest you, Baron von Lunenburg, would lose.”

  “Let us not resort to hysteria, old man.” He strode toward the door leading to the hallway—and safety—but not before Stratford heard him mutter, “I shall never understand men who give such credence to their Bibles.”

  Five

  The following day, Dorothea took lunch with Luke and Helen. She still reeled from the events that had taken place in short succession the previous evening: seeing and becoming interested in Lord Brunswick, revealing to Helen the reason for her visit, and then being rescued from financial ruin and prison by Baron von Lunenburg, not to mention meeting many of her hosts’ friends in the parish. All in all, the evening had turned into a success beyond her wildest expectations.

  And here she sat, enjoying a meal of mutton, green peas, baby potatoes seasoned with parsley, and aromatic tea laced with cinnamon. The meal was served on pink floral-patterned bone china and a deeply etched silver service placed on sturdy but elegant embroidered muslin. Dorothea, Helen, and Luke dined surrounded by tasteful decor and subdued paintings of botanical arrangements.

  Dorothea recalled her luncheon taken the previous day. The carriage, run by a business concern that catered to those who could ill afford the best accommodations, had stopped at a nondescript inn for the midday meal. There she had been served thin soup that the cook claimed to include chicken but didn’t, dark bread too tough to throw to the dog, and a flavorless brown beverage that purported to be tea. The company wasn’t any better. They ate among rough, unkempt men who enjoyed expressing their approval of brassy serving wenches with firm slaps on the rump that sent both parties into peals of laughter. Dorothea herself didn’t escape the notice of one leering man in particular, a development that didn’t help her relax during her meal.

  How glad she was to be visiting refined relatives, however distant their blood connection. The previous evening after the birthday celebration concluded, Dorothea had retired to the comfortable and well-appointed bedchamber Helen had assigned to her. Before she crawled into bed, Dorothea had gotten down on her knees to thank the Lord and sent praises to heaven for the blessing of being relieved from her insurmountable debt and for Helen’s gracious hospitality. That night, Dorothea slumbered soundly for the first time in months, so long that she missed breakfast. Helen didn’t even chastise her. With each passing moment, Dorothea’s gratitude concerning her improved situation diminished not a whit.

  The present day’s company proved much more to Dorothea’s liking, as well. Her excitement from a successful party still evident, Helen spent most of the luncheon hinting for Dorothea to compliment the food, atmosphere, and music provided by a string quartet. Dorothea complied, but concurrently she thought of the names and faces of those she had met the previous night.

  “You know, Baron von Lunenburg is quite the eligible bachelor,” Helen reminded her. “I have no doubt he has taken a special shine to you since he made such a grand gesture to see to it that your debts are forgiven.”

  Fear made an unwelcome call on Dorothea. “I hope he does not change his mind.”

  “Of course he will not,” Luke assured her. “Lunenburg is a man of his word.” He drank from his cup, then set it down with a firm motion. Dorothea watched steam float from the tea remaining. “So. When will Lunenburg be calling on you?”

  The question took Dorothea by surprise. “Did he ask to call on me?”

  Luke squirmed in his seat. “I assumed he would be calling on you very shortly after what transpired last night.”

  Though Baron von Lunenburg was attractive in his way, and though he no doubt had done her a favor she could never repay, Dorothea had no interest in him as a suitor. Lord Brunswick had piqued her interest far too much. “Since you are the man of the house, I would be most grateful to you if you could discourage Baron von Lunenburg.”

  “What?”

  “I am ever so sorry if I appear to be ungrateful. I assure you, I am not. I shall hold Baron von Lunenburg in the highest esteem for as long as I live, and if I can do any favor for him, I shall. But I simply am not interested in him romantically. Because of my feelings, I do not want to encourage him. I believe to do so would only be dishonest and a cruel disservice to us all.”

  Helen reached for Dorothea’s hand and grabbed her by the fingers. “Do not be a ninny, Dorothea. Baron von Lunenburg has shown you great interest. You must reciprocate.”

  “But—”

  “At the very least, give him a chance. I know you will find him quite charming and pleasant once you have spent time in relative privacy with him.”

  “I am sure,” Luke muttered.

  “What is that, my dear?” Helen let go of Dorothea’s hand.

  “Nothing.” He cleared his throat, but the women kept staring at him. “Uh. . .it just seems now that I need to have a word with Lunenburg—after he has called in the favor, that is. I am afraid there has been a great misunderstanding on Dorothea’s part. And on yours, as well, Helen.”

  “Whatever do you mean?”

  “I think Lunenburg was expecting Dorothea to be quite attentive to him in return for the favor. Having no idea what type of woman Dorothea was, I assumed all parties understood the implicit meaning of the conversation and that the arrangement was agreeable to all.”

  Implicit meaning? What implicit meaning?

  Dorothea leaned forward. “I confess I was never any good at playing games, so I have no idea what you mean, and I have a feeling I do not wish to learn.”

  “A good conjecture, considering that you are apparently a fine Christian woman,” Luke agreed.

  “Thank you, although I have no idea why you would assume the opposite to be true. In any event,” Dorothea continued, “I specifically asked if I would be required to do anything at all in return for Baron von Lunenburg’s actions, and he said he expected nothing. You heard him.” Dorothea sent a pleading look Helen’s way. “And so did you.”

  “Yes,” Helen confirmed.

  “After his assurances,” Dorothea said, “I assumed Baron von Lunenburg was acting out of Christian charity.”

  “Christian charity. Hmm,” Luke said. “Yes, I can see that you have led a sheltered li
fe. Not unlike my dear Helen.”

  “Sheltered or not, you still owe Baron von Lunenburg your utmost courtesy, for the sake of our family’s reputation,” Helen said. “You cannot come here and then treat our friends in any way that could be construed as less than gracious.”

  “I understand. I will be polite.”

  “See that you are,” Helen warned her.

  “Speaking of our friends,” Luke said, “Brunswick has asked if he might pay us a call later this afternoon.”

  “Oh!” So Lord Brunswick wanted to see her again already? Dorothea tried not to lose control of her teacup.

  “You must have made quite an impression on him, as well. You have been here only one evening, and already two men are chasing you as bees chase after pollen. Good for you.” Helen cut into her mutton. “But really, I advise you to keep your attentions focused on Baron von Lunenburg. He is a much better match for you, I think.”

  “I noticed he is quite the popular figure,” Dorothea observed.

  “And for good reason,” Luke observed. “He has made many people quite a lot of money.”

  “That is not a very good reason for popularity, in my opinion.”

  “There are worse.” Helen took a sip of tea. “At least with the attention you have garnered, your fortnight here promises to be interesting.”

  Dorothea was glad she had a piece of fork-tender mutton practically melting amid gravy in her mouth, which offered excuse enough for her not to respond. She didn’t want to return to London. The room she had planned to rent was cheap and dreary. She wasn’t sure if she would even like the other boarders.

  Heavenly Father, release me from this false pride.

  Soon the exhausting trip and eventful evening caught up with Dorothea despite the invigorating effects of the tea Helen served. She only wished to retire to her room for a short nap before Lord Brunswick was due to arrive for tea at four that afternoon. She didn’t want him seeing her looking less than her best. She was about to offer excuses to her hosts when the butler entered, begged pardon for the interruption, and handed Luke a calling card.

  He barely scanned the name before he looked at Dorothea. “Why, Baron von Lunenburg has come to call for Dorothea.”

  “You were not expecting him,” Dorothea surmised. Indeed, she had not been expecting him, either. Not after she had refused to go with him to the garden.

  Helen gasped. “No, indeed. Well, the men are apparently taking full advantage of your short time here. You just might gain two proposals of marriage before your visit is through.” She all but clapped her hands in approval.

  “I would not be so vain as to venture such a guess.” Nevertheless, Dorothea felt a blush rise to her cheeks.

  Moments later she greeted Baron von Lunenburg in the drawing room. As the afternoon waned past teatime, she realized why everyone found him captivating. She expected him to brag about his shrewd investments for others, but he focused his conversation on her beauty and their mutual interest in gardening. She speculated that he didn’t bother to talk about money since the fact that she had none to invest was well known to him—and, independent or not, she was still a member of the fairer sex.

  She listened as he spun fascinating tales of travel, both firsthand experiences and those told to him by interesting acquaintances. Hints that he had other entertaining yarns in store left her wanting to learn more about him. He insisted that she address him by his Christian name of Hans and had just shared the highlight of an amusing event that occurred in the Prince Regent’s court—leaving her laughing—when Helen entered.

  “I do hate to interrupt,” Helen apologized with a smile on her face. “Obviously both of you are having such an enjoyable time together. I am so pleased. And I trust your tea and biscuits were satisfactory?”

  Hans hurried to his feet in deference to Helen. “More than satisfactory. You always serve the most aromatic and exquisite blend of tea leaves. Please, you must reveal to me the source of your supply.”

  “But if I do,” she quipped, “then you will have no reason to come by for tea.”

  “On the contrary, I will have every reason to come by—and not necessarily just for tea.” He gave Dorothea a pleasing sidelong glance.

  Dorothea knew that Helen’s willingness to interrupt her visit with Hans signaled that something could be amiss, so she quickly turned serious. “Is everything all right?”

  An odd look crossed her face and then vanished just as quickly. “Yes. Fine. Just fine. Uh, Dorothea, I must ask you to excuse yourself.”

  Dorothea was puzzled until she remembered what had to be the reason for Helen’s interruption. Lord Brunswick! Had he come to call? If so, indeed she must go to him.

  “Of course I shall excuse myself.” She looked into Hans’s face. “By your leave.”

  “Of course.” He glanced at the mantel clock. “I have stayed long enough.”

  Indeed, two hours had passed, albeit quickly.

  “Please do feel at liberty to visit us again in the near future,” Helen said.

  Hans donned the hat the butler handed him and allowed him to assist with his overcoat. “I regret that I cannot spend even more time in Lady Dorothea’s company today. But surely if I were to linger any longer, I would be accused of monopolizing her time unfairly.” He turned his eyes toward her. “We will enjoy a repeat of today soon, I trust.”

  “Of course,” Helen promised and stepped aside so he could exit.

  The front door had just shut behind him when Helen took her by the wrist and hissed, “Lord Brunswick is waiting for you in the library.”

  “Oh, dear!” Dorothea tried to discern the best course of action. “Could you occupy him while I take a moment to freshen myself?”

  Helen nodded. “Are you this popular in London?”

  “A girl in mourning is hardly popular. Perhaps now that my time of formal mourning is past—and I am out here in the country—I am blossoming into a butterfly.”

  “A social butterfly,” Helen pointed out. “Let me caution you once more. If I were you, I would concentrate my energies on the one departing. Keep your visit with the one in the library to a minimum.”

  And as soon as she saw Lord Brunswick waiting for her, Helen’s words faded.

  He rose to greet her. She extended her hand, and he complied with the most obligatory brush of his lips and, to her disappointment, hurried to release it.

  “I beg your pardon for interrupting what was obviously a very amusing visit between you and Baron von Lunenburg.”

  His chilly greeting took her aback. She clutched at her throat. “An amusing visit?”

  “I recognized the carriage in the drive as belonging to him.”

  “Oh.”

  “And your laughter could be heard in the hallway.”

  “You wouldn’t ask me to put on a dour expression for a polite social caller, would you?”

  “I suppose not.” His concession seemed to be forced.

  As Dorothea chose a brown leather seat across from Lord Brunswick and then smoothed her day frock the color of mellowed ivory, she noticed a fresh pot of tea and a plate of biscuits waiting on the table for the two of them. The pleasant though bitter fragrance of the hot beverage usually offered Dorothea the temptation to enjoy an interlude of refreshment, but not on this occasion. And another biscuit, even those emanating the tart scent of lemon and with a moist appearance that told her butter had been added generously, was the last morsel Dorothea wanted to eat since she had just indulged. But for the sake of manners, she took a small, round, buttery treat with a dollop of lemon curd in the center.

  Burning logs crackled in the fireplace. Though they relied on coal for heat, Helen enjoyed the atmosphere that burning wood provided for entertaining in the front rooms. The servants had proven diligent in keeping the fires tended. She enjoyed listening to the occasional burst of sound. Every now and again a log would succumb to the flames, falling with a thud as it broke into smaller pieces. Helen was right; the scent of wood burning
did indeed add a level of interest and comfort to the atmosphere. She would miss the fire come summer, as well as the chance to enjoy it in such glorious company.

  In the meantime, she looked across the lace-covered tea table at her companion. Lord Brunswick’s lips were down-turned, a contrast from the delightful expression he had worn the previous night. Even in his less-than-enchanting mood, he was ever so appealing. She discovered a sudden and urgent yearning to please him.

  “I doubt he was any more fascinating than you will prove to be,” Dorothea assured him. “Judging from my conversation with you last night, I look forward to a delightful teatime with you.”

  Her words encouraged his smile to return. “And I with you.”

  Studying him, Dorothea realized that even if he uttered not a word during their entire visit, she would still prefer him to Hans. Stratford’s brand of attractiveness held a greater appeal for her than did Hans’s even though Hans was hardly homely. But Stratford possessed an even more appealing quality that Hans missed—a highly developed spiritual life. Stratford spoke of sacred matters and his relationship with the Lord in an easy and natural manner that indicated he was comfortable with this part of his life and that it was a large part of his identity. Hans, on the other hand, kept his conversation focused on himself. The contrast put Stratford far and above Hans in every way.

  “You must tell me something.” He studied the portrait hanging over the fireplace mantel. “Who is that lovely woman?”

  “That is Grandmother Witherspoon. I always admired that portrait when it hung in her house, and I am glad Helen is enjoying it now. See how the artist captured her expression? I feel that she could come alive and step right into this room with us at any moment.” Dorothea shared a few more insights about art, and they talked about some of their favorite paintings. She enjoyed Stratford’s knowledge of and enthusiasm for the subject.