The Mysteries of A Lady's Heart: A Clean & Sweet Regency Historical Romance Collection

by Abby Ayles

  “Oh, please be careful,” Hannah said with worry, taking another few steps forward.

  Grimshaw grabbed a rag to rub some of the grime off of his hands and the sweat from his brow.

  “They’re fine,” he said with a wave. “Before you came, they spent every afternoon running around this part of the estate.”

  “Your progress looks amazing,” Hannah said, seeing an opening to steer the conversation away from the sheen on Lord Grimshaw’s forearms.

  He looked around and admired the large space himself.

  “It took quite a bit just to remove all the debris. Now that we have that done, we will build up the exteriors and then the roof. After that, I can begin the interior.”

  “It sounds like quite an undertaking.”

  “He is doing it for Mommy,” Rebecca called up proudly from the bottom floor.

  Lord Grimshaw smiled nervously, “Yes, I always promised my wife, I mean my late wife, that I would do it. I just never got around to it.”

  His tone was so full of sorrow.

  “What happened to it?” Hannah asked, hoping to keep him from mournful thoughts.

  “A fire,” he said. “You can see there,” he pointed to the edge of the crumbled stone, “where some of it is still blackened.”

  “Was that how…” Hannah trailed off, wondering if she should finish that sentence.

  “No,” Grimshaw replied, understanding her meaning. “It actually burned down before I was born. My father just never got around to rebuilding. I always said I would but then she got ill and…”

  “It was a sickness then?” Hannah asked, knowing she shouldn't pry but unable to stop herself.

  “Yes,” he answered with his gaze in a far-off place. He woke back to the present. “She was always weak after,” Grimshaw’s eyes trailed down to Rebecca. “Then the putrid throat came through these parts.”

  “I’m so sorry for your loss,” Hannah said with all her being.

  It was easy to see how much the earl missed his wife and still ached over her absence.

  “Well,” he said, turning his gaze to the room again to fight the emotion brewing. “I promised her a west wing and I mean to deliver, no matter how long it might take me.”

  “I am sure that she is most grateful to you for it too.”

  ***

  Hannah’s mind was distracted the following day as she replayed the image of Lord Grimshaw standing before her bare-chested.

  If she was honest with herself it had stirred something deep inside that she wasn’t sure she had ever felt before.

  Though the girls had asked to return again, she had to decline the trip not only because she wasn’t sure if she could handle seeing the earl in such a state again without swooning, but also because she had another outing planned for the day.

  She had promised Lord Grimshaw that she would not engage in conversation with Matthew McCarthy, but had made sure that there was still a loophole in this verbal agreement.

  No requests had been made by Lord Grimshaw that she not correspond or even meet with Mrs. McCarthy, and Hannah had made it a point not to bring up the idea with the earl.

  Instead, she sent a letter with the first servant going into town on Monday after her first church service. Since then she had had regular correspondence with Mrs. McCarthy.

  She was indeed a lonely woman. Though she spoke fondly of her son, it would seem that he didn’t come to see her very often. Most of the time she was left to her own care in the house her husband built fifty years ago.

  She did apparently have a very healthy brood of cats to keep her company and much of her letters were filled with tales of their shenanigans.

  Hannah had finally decided that she would accept Mrs. McCarthy’s offer to come to tea. The widow was also kind enough to invite both the young ladies along as well.

  Hannah saw this as a perfect opportunity to not only visit with the lady in person but also give the girls a chance to practice their tea etiquette.

  She wasn’t sure if the earl would agree with her logic, which was precisely why she said nothing to him on the matter. In fact, she said nothing to the girls until after their noonday meal on the day in question.

  Rebecca was always happy to talk and had a very hard time keeping any information to herself no matter how trivial. Hannah didn't want to risk Lady Rebecca slipping the information to her father and the whole thing being forbidden.

  “We will be taking the cart to town this afternoon,” Hannah informed her students.

  Both girls perked with excitement.

  “You have both been formally invited to tea at the house of Mrs. Joanna McCarthy.”

  “Oh, will we get to wear our Sunday gloves and hat and have tea like proper ladies?” Rebecca asked in excitement.

  “Of course,” Hannah encouraged.

  “But why are we taking a cart and not the carriage? Father has never taken us to town in the cart?”

  “Well, I thought since it is a nice day, it would be a fine time to let the breeze blow against your lovely cheeks,” Hannah said, brushing against Rebecca’s and making her giggle.

  The real reason was that Hannah was able to drive a small cart on her own. If she was to need the use of the carriage, she would surely have to ask it of Lord Grimshaw.

  The girls thought nothing of her reasoning and happily sat in the cart while Hannah drove them into town.

  There was only one stop that Hannah was truly nervous to make. She would have to stop at the local shop first to inquire the directions to Mrs. McCarthy’s cottage.

  She had given her word that she would not speak with Mr. McCarthy again and she would not break it, as long as it was proper.

  Luckily when they arrived, Hannah found the business to be a large one with several young men working behind the counter.

  Hannah took the girls in and with her earnings thus far bought them each a peppermint stick to save for later and asked the young man at the counter the way.

  Again, they were in the cart and on their way, and Hannah was happy as could be that she had kept her promise intact. In fact, she could safely say she hadn’t even set eyes on Mr. McCarthy.

  Not that she wanted to either. Though Mrs. McCarthy spoke of her son with love and admiration in her letters, Hannah didn’t feel the same. What kind of a son would leave his mother all alone and not visit for extended periods of time?

  Finally, they got to the house and Mrs. McCarthy was out in her small garden waiting to greet them. Both girls hopped out of the cart excitedly and came to stand before the lady, their brown curls bouncing with every step.

  “Mrs. McCarthy, it was so kind of you to invite us,” Hannah said when she reached the rest of the party. “Please let me introduce Lady Caroline Grimshaw and Lady Rebecca.”

  “Why I believe you are two of the loveliest little ladies I have ever set me eyes on,” Mrs. McCarthy said, blinking down at them with her little black pearl eyes.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” both girls said with a curtsy in unison.

  “Oh, if your governess will allow it, you must call me Grannie. I fear my Matty will not have children till I am long gone from this world. I do so ache to hear a child call me so.”

  Both girls looked to their governess who saw no harm in it and nodded in the affirmative.

  “Come in, come in,” Grannie said with a broad smile and wave of her aged arm.

  “I can just hear the kettle a’going now.”

  Chapter 11

  Despite her age, Hannah quickly learned that Mrs. McCarthy’s faculties had not dimmed in the slightest. In fact, it seemed quite the contrary.

  The kettle did in fact sound just after their entrance into the small clean cottage. It was not more than a sitting room with a hearth and a kitchen behind. A narrow set of stairs led to a loft above that Hannah guessed served as her bedroom.

  Covering every visible wall was the most beautiful paintings and drawings. In the corner of the sitting room sat an easel and the tools of the trade.
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  “Are you a painter, Mrs. McCarthy?” Hannah asked after they were seated around a small round table with a tea tray.

  “I do dabble a bit,” she said humbly as she poured the hot water into the ceramic teapot.

  “From the look of this room, I would say you do far more than dabble. These look exquisite.”

  “Thank ye kindly,” she said before slowly lowering herself in the last remaining chair.

  “May I pour it for you, Grannie?” Caroline asked, hoping for the chance to show her skill.

  “Oh, that would just be fine,” Mrs. McCarthy said with a wide smile that hid her little eyes all the more behind her round cheeks.

  Caroline set to the task. The room was silent for a moment as all eyes watched. Hannah in anticipation of her pupil’s hard-won education, Rebecca in astute study should her own opportunity arise, and Mrs. McCarthy in pure enjoyment of the company.

  “You did the job well,” Mrs. McCarthy said as Caroline finished pouring the last cup and gave a sigh of satisfaction that she spilled not a drop.

  They spent the afternoon happily chatting away over their tea. Mrs. McCarthy was kind enough to always find an opportunity to include the girls in the conversation.

  Hannah couldn’t help but beam with pride at the girls’ civil answers and proper behavior.

  As the afternoon waned on, however, a sadness started to cover Hannah. It was a most enjoyable afternoon but it was but one.

  She was sure, by the amount of artwork on the walls, that Mrs. McCarthy spent almost all her time in solitude. One afternoon just wasn’t enough.

  “I wonder, Mrs. McCarthy, your hand is so skilled with the brush, have you ever shared your knowledge with others? In a teaching capacity, I mean?”

  “I can’t say there are many around here looking for classes in watercolors and the like,” she responded with a smile.

  “Well, I have been charged with seeing the Grimshaw girls brought up as well-rounded young ladies. To be sure that includes their hand at artwork. I am not nearly as skilled as you are. I wonder if you would be willing to provide lessons for them.”

  Both girls sat taller in their chairs and their eyes lit up at the prospect.

  “I would be happy to compensate you for your time,” Hannah added for good measure.

  “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of such a thing,” she waved off. “I am not sure how much I can teach, but I won’t deny the chance to see you fine ladies come again.”

  The time was set for weekly visits in the afternoon and though Mrs. McCarthy was against it she reluctantly took some of Hannah’s coins from her purse.

  “It is at least enough to cover the cost of supplies. I wouldn’t dream of you taking that burden upon yourself.”

  It was getting close to late afternoon, sadly, and with reluctancy, the trio bid their new friend goodbye before entering their cart.

  “You know what might be fun,” Hannah said to the girls after they reached the edge of the village. “Let us keep our visits to Grannie a secret from your father.”

  “A secret? Why?” inquisitive Rebecca asked.

  “Well,” Hannah thought out slowly. “That way as you practice and improve, he won’t be the wiser, but then once you truly have mastered the skill and have a masterpiece to show, think how surprised he will be to see it.”

  “We could make it like a present for Father,” Rebecca agreed.

  “Exactly. What do you think? Would that be a lovely idea for your father?”

  She was waiting for Caroline to agree. Rebecca may have been the chatterbox but Caroline was certainly the one in charge. Often Rebecca deferred to her older sister’s judgment. If Hannah had a hope of winning over the girls it would be through Lady Caroline.

  “I think Father would like that. Perhaps he will finish the west wing and put our paintings in it,” she added.

  “Oh, that would be marvelous,” Hannah agreed with a sigh of relief.

  She did have a pang of nagging guilt deep down that she had roped the girls into some sort of trickery against their father. She tried to tell herself that it was only to save the earl from his own wrath.

  He was sure to disapprove of her trips to see Mrs. McCarthy on account of her eligible son. He would never understand that Matthew McCarthy would no sooner encounter them at his mother’s house than catching a star in his hand.

  It may have been deceitful and dishonest but it was for a good purpose. They would provide company to a lady who desperately was in need of it. It would also hopefully line her pockets that much more.

  Hannah didn’t even hesitate when she gave of her own coin to do so. Yes, that would mean less to send back to her family in London. It was still worth it if it meant seeing Mrs. McCarthy’s house slightly less empty of necessities.

  The following month was one of the most enjoyable that Hannah had had for a very long time. Even with the money that she gave to Mrs. McCarthy she still had a good amount to send back to her parents and siblings still at home.

  She knew that her mother appreciated any little bit of help that Hannah could give. She also felt an obligation to do so. Though the opportunity afforded by Hannah’s aunt and uncle was not what she would have chosen for herself, had she the choice. But it was a far greater opportunity than any of her other siblings would get.

  Perhaps if one of her brothers was lucky, they might find a way into an apprenticeship. More than likely all four of her brothers would end up working at the docks loading and unloading ship cargo like her father.

  Her six sisters, including the babe her mother had just given birth to, would have it vastly harder than even the boys. They had furnished no education past what their mother could read out of a bible. They would have very little prospects in life but to marry a poor seaport man and live the hard life of Hannah’s parents all over again.

  Hannah Jacobson had been spared that life only because she happened to be the firstborn. Though some might have seen the prospect of sending wages home a burden, she was more than glad to do so.

  She had little use for them anyway at Brighton Abby. Of course, there were the small items that she would purchase from the village shop, all via Mary, but other than that she wanted for nothing.

  She was furnished with a warm bed, more than adequate food to eat, and the simple pleasure of a warm fire should she ever desire it. All things that had not been a norm for her up until this point.

  The girls were really beginning to blossom as they became more accustomed to Hannah’s presence. Even Lady Caroline seemed to accept her more.

  A large part of this new acceptance was due to their weekly trips to town. Lady Caroline had bonded with Grannie, as she was now affectionately called by all of them, in a way that neither Hannah nor Lady Rebecca had.

  They both had an unspoken thread that tied the one to the other. Grannie, of course, loved the company of all the girls, but in Lady Caroline, she saw a reflection of her younger self.

  Often, after their lesson Grannie would invite them to stay longer for a visit. Rebecca would take the time to pet one of Grannie’s cats or play tea with a doll she brought along.

  Caroline, on the other hand, was very serious about her artwork. Even after the lesson would be complete, she wouldn’t be satisfied to stay her hand. For another hour or so Grannie would sit by Lady Caroline as she worked and give words of approval or suggestions of improvement.

  At the moment both girls had first worked on their sketching abilities and now had moved on to watercolors. Hannah had never really considered a poor art teacher, but she was immensely grateful that the girls had such a superior teacher that could only come with years of experience.

  It was on such an afternoon that an unexpected guest arrived.

  “What is all this?” a male voice boomed as he entered the small cottage without so much as a knock.

  All four ladies turned in surprise but it was only Grannie that spoke.

  “Oh, Matty ‘ave you come to see me then? You remember Miss Jacobson, don�
��t ye? I told you how she has been taking these fine Ladies to tutor under me,” she said, hobbling up from her seat next to Lady Caroline and coming to usher him into the room.

  Matthew McCarthy hesitated a moment. He knew of the art lesson arrangement but had not really paid much attention to what his mother said. He had never dreamed that he would walk into the middle of one.

  “Well, I don’t want to disturb,” he said, wavering at the door though his eyes fell on Hannah and he wavered more.