“I shall leave the interior of the house entirely in your hands.”
She turned and raised her eyebrows. “You are sure you don’t mind? I sometimes have unconventional tastes. Remember, I consorted with artists and poets during my salons.”
He laughed. A spot of dust smudged her cheek. “I shall be busy with the roof repairs and God knows what else. Shall we continue? We haven’t even inspected the kitchens yet.”
Her eyes were merry. “Then lead on, McDuff.”
“William Shakespeare frequented your salons?”
“Only a gentleman who quoted him on a regular basis.”
He offered his arm once again, but she declined, saying her gloves were full of dust. He thought to tell her about the streak on her cheek, but they were sure to encounter additional grime as their tour continued.
“Did your parents ever bring you here as a child? To inspect your inheritance?”
“Never laid eyes on the place until two years ago—long after Grandmother died.” He was still astonished by the legacy. He and Jeremy had known nothing about their maternal grandmother or her circumstances, and Mother never mentioned her. Once when Jeremy meekly asked if he had any cousins, Mama had flown into a rage. Lord Culbertson had called Mama delicate. He and Jeremy had thought her sickly as she often took to her bed for a week at a time, only to emerge in high spirits. And they’d never once thought it odd none of her relatives ever called.
Father had been the center of their life—loud, robust, handsome as sin. When home, he’d taught his sons to shoot straight, ride like the devil, and to hold their liquor. He and Jeremy had worshipped the ground he walked on.
Until we discovered his secrets.
Gwen looked at him oddly. “Are you fatigued? We can put off inspecting the rest of the house until tomorrow.”
“No. I am eager to show you everything.” He led her downstairs to the ground floor and found the stairway to the floor below. It was darker here, although light entered from windows set near the ceiling, which meant the kitchens were only partially belowground.
A cavernous fireplace with various hooks and grates dominated the space, along with dusty worktables and shelves lined with crockery. One cupboard contained a delicate china service and another, pieces of tarnished silver.
Gwen fingered a tarnished silver teapot. “I’m surprised thieves haven’t made off with this.”
“As am I. The caretakers are elderly, and surely everyone in the village must know the place has been unoccupied for decades.”
Gwen lifted the lid of a cooking pot and quickly put it back. “Ugh. There’s something long dead in there.”
John grinned. “Not fit for our dinner then?”
“I believe I’ve seen enough. I was going to try to find the linens when we were upstairs, but they are probably moldy.”
“Let us go back upstairs and find them. You need to take a mental inventory in order to begin making a list.”
“I adore making lists. How did you know?”
“Miranda knows all and tells all.”
They backtracked and found no linens on the second floor. Climbing to the third, they discovered a large closet with shelves of dusty sheets and blankets. Moths had made a meal of some of them.
“Well, that answers my question.” Gwen shut the door with a bang, and a hinge loosened, making the door droop. “I am now ready for a bracing cup of tea.”
She bustled back down the hall, stopping to peer into a small room with an adjoining larger one. “Oh John, come here. The view from this room looks out over the treetops to the hills beyond. Is it not wonderful?”
He joined her, looking at a distant house that appeared to be substantial. Was it on his property? Surely not. He pointed to it. “Looks like we have a neighbor. We shall have to make calls.”
“What is this room?”
He peered into a cupboard and found an old abacus, some toy soldiers, and dusty books. “I believe it was a schoolroom.”
Gwen had disappeared into an adjoining chamber. “And this is the nursery.” She came out holding a tiny cap. It was faded with only one tie. “This is the children’s suite. I want these rooms to sparkle and be filled with books. Children learn best in a nurturing environment with books and maps, easels for painting, and instruments for learning music. If they are given opportunities to be interested in the world around them, they will not only grow up to be well-educated, they will be able to think for themselves.”
He ambled over to a cupboard and pretended to inspect its shelves. Was Miranda in error? She’d specifically told him Miss Pettigrew wanted to be free of constraints. She did not care to have children. Had he misunderstood? She sounded like the headmistress of a school.
Or a well-educated mother-to-be.
He plucked the little cap from her hands and set it next to a slate in the cupboard. “We can postpone renovations up here until later. Jeremy and Miranda will bring Phoebe and James when they visit, but that won’t be until next summer.” He walked out of the room, not wanting to see the expression on her face, hoping he’d come to the wrong conclusion.
Perhaps she assumed he wanted children. He did not, and one day he would have to tell her why.
He did not look forward to the conversation.
During the journey, when they’d neared the turnoff to Longley, she’d begged him to stop. She’d wanted to meet his mother. She’d heard about her from her father. Did he know, Papa had once been a suitor? She’d laughed, and he’d had to come up with a lie to keep them on the road. Mama’s health was fragile. She’d hated to miss the wedding, but she feared it might be too arduous for her. Her doctor wanted her to have complete rest. No visitors. They’d call on her another time.
Gwen had agreed, but she’d not been happy.
He did not want to be the source of her unhappiness. He owed her. She’d made his dream possible.
But some things must stay hidden.
Chapter 7
Surely, she’d misunderstood. Did a moue of distaste cross his face? Did John not like children? When they’d agreed not to consummate the marriage until they knew each other better, she’d still expected to have children one day.
It is very early in our marriage. I shall not dwell on this now. He is no doubt fatigued from the journey, as am I.
He left the room so quickly she’d lost sight of him by the time she entered the hallway. Voices deep in conversation drifted toward her as she made her way carefully down the main staircase.
The day had been long and tiring. She longed for a cup of tea and a hot bath. John had said they were to dwell in the steward’s cottage for one week. After seeing the sorry state of the main house, she might have to persuade him to stay longer—at least until the kitchens were habitable and they’d hired staff.
“Who was that?” She maneuvered carefully down the damaged front steps.
“A man from the village. He saw our coach turn into the drive as he passed and decided to satisfy his curiosity.”
“Your brother’s coat of arms on the door of the coach draws attention.”
“As we must begin work on the house immediately, I’ve arranged to meet him in the village tomorrow. He’s going to help me find building supplies and workmen.”
“May I come? I would like to see what the shops have to offer.”
“Of course. This is your project as well as mine. You can take Sadie and shop while I guzzle local ale and interview laborers.”
“I, too, am fond of ale, but I know ladies are not supposed to like it. I promise not to embarrass you. I shall leave you to it.”
He smiled warmly. “You could never embarrass me.”
“Don’t be too sure, husband. I do like to flaunt convention.”
“I’ll risk it.”
They
laughed together, and she took his arm. They climbed into the coach and directed it back to the steward’s house. John had told her there was no steward, only the housekeeper and butler who’d been retainers from Longley he’d coaxed out of retirement a few weeks before he’d entered the army. Jeremy had advanced him enough funds to prepare the steward’s house for their use. He’d needed caretakers while in the army and a place to stay when he visited. The two had known him all his life and had been eager to accept his offer.
The coach stopped in front of the cottage. A plump woman in a cap and apron approached, arms wide.
“Mister John, you’ve finally arrived. We’ve been watching the road for two days.”
He allowed himself to be smothered in bountiful flesh, the hug lasting until he drew back and he held the woman at arms’ length.
“Let me look at you, Mary.” His lids drooped over his eyes as he touched a lock of gray hair escaping from her cap. “I daresay you get younger every year. What are you now . . . five and twenty?”
“You are still a tease, sir.” She looked over her shoulder at the stooped man who followed her out. “He’s here, Lionel. Mr. Montague’s here.”
Lionel shuffled toward them, looking elegant in an old-fashioned frock coat reminiscent of another era. His patrician nose gave him a haughty look, but the smile was genuine, and he bowed from the waist when he reached John.
“You’re looking quite well, sir.”
“I told you when I was last here I survived Napoleon without a scratch. I’m good at dodging sabers and canon fire. But remember, I got into the war late, and the fellow was already on the run. He’s safely confined to St. Helena now.”
“We are happy to have you here.” Mary’s gaze landed on Gwen. “Is this who I think it is?”
“May I present Lady Gwendolyn. We were married less than a week ago.”
Mary’s hands fluttered, and her eyes widened before she curtsied. “I am so happy I think I might cry.”
Gwen smiled. “Happy tears are allowed. I am pleased to make your acquaintance, and yours, too, Lionel.”
“I know you’ll want to freshen up after your long journey. Let me know when you’re ready to eat. I’ve a mutton stew cooking.” Mary hurried off toward the door.
John led Gwen up the stairs. Her maid was busy unpacking her trunk in a small, pleasant room with sparse furnishings.
Sadie gasped. “My lady, you have dirt streaks on your person. Shall I draw a bath?”
“Please.”
“She took off her jacket and gloves and peered into a mirror.
Good heavens. I look a fright.
She was surprised John hadn’t laughed at her. But then, he hadn’t escaped the grime either.
Two of the outriders who had accompanied them on the journey carried up a small hip bath. They were followed by Sadie with buckets of warm water. The men returned with additional water until there was enough for a proper bath. The coach and outriders would be returning tomorrow. For today, she and John could pretend they had a large staff.
She removed her dress, her corset, her shift, and her stockings, then stepped into the warm water. Heaven. Sadie had applied a few drops of lavender to the water and had brought Gwen’s favorite soap from home. Gwen closed her eyes and breathed in the scent.
The bathing receptacle was not like the long, copper tub at her father’s house but glorious nevertheless. Her tired body welcomed the soothing warmth. She would not wash her hair. It would take too long to dry. She would instead soak longer than she usually did and mull over what she’d seen today. Bathing was a ritual she enjoyed, and it was a good place to think.
She frowned as she recalled the condition of the house.
Dear lord, what have I done?
She’d left her comfortable home, her friends, her beloved salon, and traveled across England halfway to the Scottish border. She’d left balls and entertainments and fine dining and pretty clothes. She’d left her cheerful room overlooking the back garden and stylish furniture.
All for the sake of independence.
And to escape Lord Caulfield. Do not leave him out.
A stray thought flashed. What had Caulfield meant when he said there would consequences when she refused his suit? No legal actions had been forthcoming—none were warranted—and she and John had left the gossip behind. It was probably an empty threat meant to intimidate. She pictured her former suitor’s mottled face and recalled the angry words flung at her. She’d cringed in the conveyance while John stood up for her.
Just like a hero in one of my gothic novels.
John had made many promises to her, and she didn’t doubt he would keep them. She would have freedom to roam the property, read her precious books, write letters, decorate the house as she saw fit, perhaps engage in what society there might be in the neighborhood.
She’d have a companion while she did these things, a man who was pleasant company, who sometimes made her laugh, who had a dimple in his cheek and a sparkle in his eyes.
She should be happy, but for some unknown reason she was not.
Her dismay had nothing to do with the state of the house. The house was a disaster, but after inspecting it, she knew she could deal with whatever had to be done. She looked forward to using her creativity, and she loved a good challenge.
What, then?
As the water began to cool, she washed quickly, debating whether to rinse her hair after all. She thought not. The fire in the grate was warm, but she was due downstairs.
Sadie came in with a stack of linen towels and left one close by. Rising from the bath, Gwen grabbed the towel, draped it around her shoulders, and dried herself in front of the fire. Her thoughts turned to John’s comments in the nursery. Was he averse to children in general, or did he find having children with her distasteful?
She’d never minded her body. Yes, her breasts were larger than was fashionable, and her thighs and buttocks were well-fleshed. It sometimes took her maid an age to lace up her corset to make her waist the proper size for the dresses she owned. Now, as she toweled, she wondered if John was repulsed by her girth. She knew not the type of woman he fancied. He’d been out of society too long, and she could not recall his taste.
She swallowed as a tear made its way down her cheek. Horrified, she turned so Sadie would not notice. The tightness in her chest was unexpected. She’d never cared a whit what others thought of her appearance, despite the fact Lydia made rude, oinking sounds whenever she ordered a second dessert.
She did care now. She wanted her husband to desire her. She wanted children—John’s children—because he was kind and smart and would make a good father. But she must be patient. She was sure, in time, enough affection would grow between them to let nature take its course.
Her maid handed her a fresh drying cloth. “Are you all right, milady?”
“Something in my eye. Soap I think.”
“Let’s get you dressed.”
Sadie helped her into her undergarments and picked up the dress. She held a wrinkled, but pretty gown of yellow muslin with brocaded flowers on the puffed sleeves. A bright yellow shawl matched. The house was cooler than expected. Gwen slipped on the dress and draped the shawl around her shoulders, leaving her gloves off.
They would remain indoors now. She and John had a great deal to discuss after dinner. First, she must talk him out of occupying the house too soon. Too much work was needed. While repairs and general cleanup would occupy most of their time, they also needed to visit the tenants who still remained on the property. John had told her he’d met them only once, and after years of being solely responsible for themselves, a few were hostile. Ever the optimist, John was sure he could win them over.
While workmen cleaned chimneys, replaced broken window panes, and painted interior walls, she would focus on getting the
house in order. What would be needed to make it habitable? How much staff would be required? Which furnishings would be kept and refurbished? With John’s approval, she planned to start early tomorrow.
“Go and get your dinner, Sadie. I shall not need your services until bedtime. It has been a long journey for you, too.”
“Thank you, milady.”
She made her way past the dining room where delicious smells greeted her the moment she opened the door. The mutton stew teased her nose and made her stomach growl. Would there be a fish course? Fishing was popular in the area, although shooting was as well. Perhaps Reggie would visit. He enjoyed hunting. He could bring Papa. Lydia, of course, would remain home.
She went into the sitting room and found John with a book on his lap. A book! He glanced up and smiled. “You look much more cheerful than you did this afternoon. Did you rest? Your gown is quite fetching. Reminds me of a bank of daffodils.”
“Do you like daffodils?”
“I do. They make me think of spring.”
“What are you reading?”
“A book on animal husbandry. While sheep are prominent here, there is a movement afoot to raise cattle. I’ve been giving it some thought.”
She settled next to him, not too close, and realized, despite her bath, her body ached from the journey. He put down the book, and a smile danced in his eyes. “What do you think? Can we make a home of that old pile and render the estate profitable again?”
“I’m willing to try.”
“That’s my girl.” He patted her cheek and reopened his book.
Her life had been unusual, and she’d reveled in its uniqueness. But this had to be the oddest wedding trip anyone ever experienced. She sat beside him, facing the fireplace, letting the warmth seep into her body.
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