Lady at last

by Annabelle Anders

  Neither of them was really very sleepy.

  “Oh, Pen, I do hope the rain lets up tomorrow!”

  “It needs to stop tonight. The roads are probably already a mess.”

  Rose was silent for a few minutes. “You mustn’t worry about things you have no control over. We need to rely upon the fact that he did betroth himself to you, and he is a true gentleman when all is said and done. Viscount Danbury would not withdraw from the agreement.”

  “I know, Rose, it’s just that once he discovers all that I’ve done, he’s going to hate me. And for good reason! I would be livid with a person who has done what I have. I’m an evil woman, Rose. Hugh Danbury has betrothed himself to an evil, horrible, conniving woman.”

  “You’re not entirely evil, Pen,” Rose chuckled. “You did whip Augusta Heights into shape for him.”

  Penelope moaned and rolled over. “And manipulative. I am evil, horrible, conniving, and manipulative.”

  This self-pity was new for Penelope. She’d always been so very certain of herself. This wave of uncertainties crashing inside of her was quite foreign indeed.

  “Well, you always said that if you were ever to marry, the gentleman in question would have to be an enlightened one. And if Hugh is able to look past your evil, horrible, conniving, and manipulative ways, he will have to be more than a little enlightened.” And then Rose rubbed Penelope’s back. “Go to sleep, Pen, you’ll feel better in the light of day.”

  Penelope sniffed. She hoped Rose was right. She couldn’t feel much worse.

  Or so she’d thought. She’d yet to add the cumulative effects of three days of motion sickness to the discomfort she had already been experiencing due to pregnancy. By the fourth night, Penelope fell into the bed they’d taken for the night before Rose could even change the bedding.

  It was clean enough. She just needed to lie down on something that was not moving.

  Rose did not appear right away with supper, nor to help her change into her nightgown but Penelope did not really care. She’d spilled the contents of her stomach so many times over the last seventy-two hours that the last thing she wanted was food. She just wanted to sleep and sleep and sleep.

  Penelope did not know how long she’d dozed off when she heard voices whispering inside of the room. “She’s not seen a doctor for it, and I’m concerned for both her and the babe,” Rose was saying.

  “And you say she has been carrying now for how long? Just over three months?”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Who was Rose talking to? Penelope moaned and opened her eyes.

  Rose bent down beside her quickly. “Pen, I’ve brought a midwife here to examine you. I can’t deliver you to your husband in this condition, now can I?” Just as Penelope thought to chastise her maid, she realized that Rose was leading the midwife to believe Penelope was married.

  “Now, Mrs. Chesterton, your maid says you haven’t been feeling well. If you are amenable, I’d like to examine you to make certain all is going well for both you and your baby. Can you roll over onto your back for me?”

  Penelope was so miserable she did exactly as the woman’s calming voice asked. “It’s all right, Pen, Mrs. Robey is a well-respected midwife. The innkeeper’s wife said she assisted all of her daughters with their births and didn’t lose a single one of them.”

  The woman pulled the covers down to Penelope’s knees and then placed her hands upon her belly. Neither Rose nor the midwife spoke for several minutes as the exam took place. Penelope opened her eyes, however, and watched Mrs. Robey’s expression as her hands palpitated and pressed almost uncomfortably into Penelope’s abdomen. She frowned a few times before sitting back and pulling the blanket upward again.

  “You are certain you did not come to be with child any earlier?”

  Penelope nodded emphatically and then grimaced at the pain the movement brought her.

  “I think there is more than one baby. In my experience, a lady carrying more than one infant begins showing sooner and also often suffers from the maladies of breeding more so than most women carrying only one child.”

  “What?” Rose said.

  “What?” Penelope tried sitting up. “That cannot be! Two?”

  The woman nodded grimly. “Or more. But your womb is larger than it would be if you carried only one child and what with the symptoms your maid has described to me…” She then shrugged. “I must advise you against any more travel. Your condition would be considered dangerous by many.”

  “But I have to get there. I don’t have a choice.” Penelope and Rose’s eyes met for a moment, both in shock at what the midwife was saying.

  Rose then turned back to Mrs. Robey. “My mistress is very far from home. She has no choice but to complete her journey. Is there nothing you can give to her so that she is more comfortable? Is there anything we can do to ensure her travel can be accomplished safely?”

  The midwife pinched her lips but then nodded. “I have a few herbal teas I can send with you for the upset stomach. Peppermint, mostly. And your driver needs to proceed slowly. It is the bumping and the jarring that are worrisome. Too much of that sort of thing can cause the babies to come too early.”

  Babies. Bay BEES, Bay BEEEES. More than one.

  No wonder she already looked like a cow!

  “This cannot be happening.” Penelope rolled back over onto her side and moaned again.

  The midwife merely chuckled and patted her arm gently. “I want you to rest up a bit first before traveling any further. Stay here for two to three days.”

  She turned to Rose. “She needs to drink plenty of fluids and try to keep some food down. The wee little things need nourishment!” Rising to her feet, she looked around for her bag and then added, “I’ll return in two days to see how she is doing. If all is well, no birthing pains, then you ought to be able to get back on the road. But, mind you, you may need to take the journey in stages. If your mistress grows weak again, you will have to take another rest.”

  “Of course,” Rose said obediently. Why did she never speak so submissively when addressing her, Penelope wondered?

  More than one?

  What have I done?

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  When Hugh was done speaking with the vicar, he walked the man out to the foyer and mentally braced himself to view his mother’s body. The funeral would be held tomorrow. It was practically June, and the weather was already warm. The body could not be kept aboveground for even a day longer.

  When he stepped into the room, a combined aroma of perfumes and death nearly overwhelmed him. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and raised it to his nose and mouth.

  A small rose embroidered on the corner reminded him that it was not one of his own monogrammed ones. It was the one Penelope had handed him after she’d nearly broken his nose. It had been washed and pressed and instead of returning it to her, he’d oddly found himself carrying it around.

  Remembering the sheer fury in her expression after he’d spouted that nonsense about her becoming his estate manager gave him some comfort in the light of his present task.

  He stepped closer to the coffin and looked down at the face that had been so very dear to him for the entirety of his life. “Ah, Mama,” he whispered. “Why didn’t you wait for me?”

  She did not answer. Of course. He had not expected her to. The body spread out before him wore his mother’s clothing and had his mother’s hair, but it was not his mother.

  There was no life inside of her. No animation to brighten her eyes or raise the corners of her mouth.

  There was no longer a soul present.

  Hugh swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat and then lowered himself to the chair somebody had placed next to her. Margaret, perhaps. She would not have wanted to leave Mama alone.

  Hugh knew he’d disappointed his mother by not settling down sooner in life. He’d known it had been her greatest wish, to see him married, to know some grandchildren.

  He’d always
assumed there would be enough time.

  He’d been an ass; a selfish, thoughtless ass.

  “I’m sorry, Mama,” he whispered. He tentatively placed his hand upon hers but did not leave it there. Her skin felt dry and cold. Dead.

  “Would you believe I am an engaged man? Oh, not to Miss Radcliffe, as Margaret told you, you know this by now. I assume you know all.” Hugh leaned forward and rested his forearms upon his knees. He stared at his hands, calloused and dry from the long journey he’d just completed. Looking at her had been unfulfilling. He’d felt closer to her when he’d read the words written in her journal.

  “To Penelope Crone, of all people. Would you believe it?” he chuckled to himself. “I wouldn’t have. And I’ve had several days riding to doubt myself but, the crazy thing is, it feels right.” He unfolded the handkerchief and spread it out over one knee. He wished he’d had the opportunity to tie things up with her father before leaving Town. He’d scribbled out a brief note but could barely remember what he’d written.

  She was not flighty. She never had been. He had no reason to believe she’d do anything but sit tight in London until his returned.

  He hoped so, anyhow. This was Penelope he was talking about.

  It would be a year before they could marry, what with the required mourning period and all. Could he wait a full year?

  He would have to. What with his dead mother in the room, he could hardly give himself permission to satisfy his needs with one of the local barmaids while in mourning.

  What would Penelope think of that?

  Would she be jealous?

  They’d never said anything about love, romantic or otherwise. He’d kissed her and found himself wanting more. More than he’d ever wanted from any other lady, gently bred or not, for that matter.

  But she’d not said anything of her feelings. She’d seemed to participate in their lovemaking as much as he had but she’d not said much about it.

  Why had Penelope suddenly abandoned her convictions regarding marriage? Had it been seeing the familial bliss at Summer’s Park this past winter? Or was there something else?

  She’d never told him why she’d fainted twice, nor why she’d shown up so unexpectedly at Augusta Heights.

  What was she running from? Who was she running from?

  A soft tap heralded the butler’s presence. “I’m sorry to disturb you, my lord. There is a gentleman here to see you. I told him the family was in mourning, and that you were not receiving anyone today, but he says it is of the utmost urgency.”

  Hugh lifted his gaze from his hands. “Who does this gentleman claim to be?” A long lost relative, perhaps? A solicitor already eager to discuss the transfer of his mother’s holdings?

  “He says his name is Periwinkle, sir. And he says he’d like to sue you for breach of promise.”

  “So, you say she sacked you without references. You say she did not allow you any severance pay.” Hugh was strangely relieved to be dealing with this scoundrel. He’d not found any comfort in seeing his mother. And he was even less enthusiastic to be contemplating the oddities of his newly betrothed. “But she did not send the magistrate after you since she’d already discovered and reclaimed the money you were attempting to embezzle. Do you not think that was rather benevolent of her?”

  Periwinkle was not to be cowed, however, “You are the master of Augusta Heights, and we had an agreement. I’ve given my life for that estate and then some baron’s daughter takes it upon herself to have me physically removed? I’ll not have it, my lord.” He stuck out his chest and lifted his chin. “I am Matthew Periwinkle, and I’ll not have my good reputation as a steward slandered by Miss Penelope Crone or anyone else.”

  “I’m afraid, my good sir,” Hugh said, suddenly tired from the day’s events and eager to send the steward off, “that you were the person to ruin your reputation, not myself and most definitely not Miss Crone.”

  And then the man’s faced took on a deviousness Hugh hadn’t seen before. “Ah, my lord, but Miss Crone has been equally as careless with her own reputation, would you not agree?”

  Although lounging in the deep leather chair upon which he sat, Hugh suddenly came to be completely alert. He did not respond with questions as the man surely expected. He merely waited for Periwinkle to explain himself. People like him never failed in this regard.

  “A lady.” The man would have spat on the floor, Hugh was quite certain, if he’d been in the room with anyone but himself. “What would all of those nabobs have to say if they’d come to know that the lady stayed in residence with a single gentleman overnight, with no companion or nothing.”

  “She had a chaperone,” Hugh stated casually. Thank Heavens she’d had Rose with her. “Nothing inappropriate about her visit.”

  “Maybe not that particular visit, perhaps.” The little man drew out his silence for as long as he possibly could, in utter hopes of putting Hugh on edge even further, before at last revealing his hand. “Call me old fashioned, perhaps, but ain’t it somewhat frowned upon for an unmarried lady of the ton to get herself into such an interesting condition?”

  An interesting condition… what?

  And then it all began to make sense. The fainting, the dizzy spells, the fullness of her…

  Her sudden, inexplicable desire to marry him.

  It could not be. But…

  Why him?

  What had happened to the man who’d fathered her child?

  Rage replaced the sorrow and tiredness within him.

  God damn that woman! She’d been going to use him! She’d been planning on going so far as to actually pass another man’s child off as his heir! As these thoughts coiled around inside of him, he realized that the foiled steward was watching him for a reaction.

  “Don’t know where you got such an outlandish idea.” Hugh had always been excellent at cards in that nobody could ever read him. And as angry as he was with Penelope, he’d like to strangle Mr. Periwinkle for his impudence. He sat impassively, waiting to hear more of what the damned man had to say.

  “From her own mouth and her maid’s. Awfully informal with her betters, that one.” Hugh had known Rose for almost as long as he’d known Penelope. Periwinkle’s opinion on the matter gave his earlier claim even further credibility.

  Damn you, Penelope!

  “Sitting, talking, they was, in the kitchen. Talking about how the babe was already showing, making the lady sick and all. But I’ll tell you one thing, and it’s from my mouth to God’s ears. They was talking about how to get you to marry the lady. Her needing a husband and all that.”

  It took all Hugh’s self-control not to slam his fists down upon the desk. She’d meant to use him. Did she not think he knew how biology worked? Did she think he would not notice when a child was born just a few months after the wedding? Did she, in fact, think he was a complete and utter fool?

  Apparently so.

  “Now, I can’t help but be thinking to myself that this type of information is worth something to you. And to the soon-to-be mother, as well. I can’t help but think she wouldn’t wish this information to be shared with all those hoity-toities up in London. Would you, my lord?”

  So, Periwinkle had presented himself to Hugh, at his mother’s home on the day of her death so that he could blackmail him.

  “It’s not worth one pence.” Hugh was wise enough to know that if one gave into a blackmailer once, the thief would never truly go away.

  Perhaps that’s why Penelope had been so afraid. Had Periwinkle gone to her already?

  Should Hugh care?

  But he would deal with these questions later. For now, he needed to keep Periwinkle quiet. He did have some leverage after all.

  “You have come to my home. Demanded my audience. On the day of my mother’s death. You have stolen from me, stolen from others in my name, and are now threatening to blackmail me.” Hugh spoke softly as he rose from his chair and casually moved around the desk. The look on Periwinkle’s face had altered from smug ar
rogance to barely suppressed fear.

  “The new steward at Augusta Heights, your replacement, mind you,” Hugh continued, “has brought certain accounting irregularities to my attention; irregularities that are considered to be illegal. Do you really believe that my peers, mine and Miss Crone’s, would believe words coming out of the mouth of a known criminal?”

  The steward laughed shakily in one final attempt at bravado. “Maybe not my words but what are they to think when the little lady turns into a whale?”

  That did it.

  The ever-cheerful, easygoing, and mild-mannered Viscount Danbury lost his temper. And in doing so, Matthew Periwinkle was on the receiving end of one of the most debilitating blows ever thrown. The sound of his fist exploding off Periwinkle’s face was a combination of a loud pop followed by gravelling crunching and then a gurgle or two.

  Hugh’s conscience suffered not one bit as he stood over the man who’d had the temerity to enter his own home and threaten both him and his fiancée.

  With the assistance of a longstanding manservant, Hugh piled the man onto an old horse cart and headed into town. Of course, the captain of the Seven Mermaids was more than willing to take on an additional deckhand, for a small fee, that was.

  Danbury handed a bag of coins over to the haggard-looking seaman, feeling satisfied indeed.

  Matthew Periwinkle would not find many who would care to listen to what he had to say in the wilds of America. If he made it that far, that was. Life at sea was not made for the faint of heart, and Hugh suspected that Periwinkle was just that.

  Whistling, Hugh jumped back up onto the pony cart and rode back to the estate in the dark.

  But what should he do about Penelope? If only she could be so easily dealt with.