Stranger at the Dower House (Strangers Book 1)
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STRANGER AT THE DOWER HOUSE
Strangers Book 1
A Regency Romance
by Mary Kingswood
Published by Sutors Publishing
Copyright © 2020 Mary Kingswood
V1
Cover design by: Shayne Rutherford of Darkmoon Graphics
All rights reserved. This is a work of fiction.
Author’s note:
this book is written using historic British terminology, so saloon instead of salon, chaperon instead of chaperone and so on. I follow Jane Austen’s example and refer to a group of sisters as the Miss Wintertons.
About this book: a widow moves into the long disused Dower House and makes a horrible discovery in the wine cellar.
Thirty-year-old widow Louisa Middlehope is determined to escape from her late husband’s family and live life for herself for the first time. The tiny village of Great Maeswood offers her the peace and quiet her heart craves, and perhaps it might provide a little entertainment, too. But the house she has leased has been empty for a quarter of a century and who knows what secrets it holds?
Laurence Gage is still mourning his beloved wife, while raising his two children, and at forty, declining gently into a rather dull middle age. Until, that is, the intriguing Mrs Middlehope arrives in the village and upends his placid life. She’s nothing at all like his perfect wife, but he’s oddly drawn to her anyway and to his surprise, she seems to like him too. Whoever would have thought it? But what exactly is she looking for? Friendship, marriage — or something else entirely?
This is a complete story with a happy ever after. Book 1 of a 6 book series. A traditional Regency romance, drawing room rather than bedroom.
Isn’t that what’s-his-name? Regular readers will know that characters from previous books occasionally pop up. Lawyer Mr Willerton-Forbes, his flamboyant sidekick Captain Edgerton and the discreet Mr Neate have been helping my characters solve murders and other puzzles ever since Lord Augustus. Michael Chandry, now a crime-solving partner to Captain Edgerton and his pals, was first seen helping after the shipwreck in The Clerk and more recently in The Duke.
About the Strangers series: There’s a famous saying attributed to John Gardner that authors like to quote: that there are only two plots - a stranger arrives in town, or a person goes on a journey. Most of my books have been based on the latter, in its loosest sense (sometimes a journey of discovery, rather than a literal journey, but a major change, of death or misfortune or even good fortune which propels the main character in a new direction). So I wondered what the other side of the coin would look like - a stranger arriving in town. And there was my series title - Strangers.
Book 0: Stranger at the Parsonage: a new parson arrives at the village of Great Maeswood, and tragedy strikes the baron’s family. (a novella, free to mailing list subscribers).
Book 1: Stranger at the Dower House: a widow moves into the long disused Dower House and makes a horrible discovery in the wine cellar.
Book 2: Stranger at the Grove: an estranged brother is forced to return to his home and face up to his past.
Book 3: Stranger at the Villa: a new physician arrives in the village, but is he all he seems?
Book 4: Stranger at the Manor: a destitute man comes looking for help from his cousin, and uncovers some mysterious goings-on.
Book 5: Stranger at the Cottage: an out-of-work governess tries to start a school in the village.
Book 6: Stranger at the Hall: the newly discovered heir to the barony arrives to claim his inheritance.
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Table of contents
The Principal Inhabitants Of Great Maeswood
The Saxby Family
The Gage Family
The Middlehope Family
Great Maeswood Map
Great Maeswood Environs Map
1: The Dower House
2: The Widow
3: The Wine Cellar
4: The Body In The Basement
5: A Geography Lesson
6: Worthy Of Notice
7: A Visit From A Friend
8: Dinner For Twelve
9: A Mystery
10: Edgerton, Chandry And Associates
11: Books, Gowns And A Square Pianoforte
12: Cooks And Grooms
13: Cognac And Confidences
14: The Governess
15: The Secret Arbour
16: Of Sermons And Friends
17: Luggage
18: Memories And Discoveries
19: Of Happiness
20: Windows Into The Past
21: Settlements
22: A Ball At The Manor
23: The Sunken Garden
24: A Visit To Bath
25: Dinner At The Dower House
26: Of Wives And Bachelors
27: Considerations Of Matrimony
28: Reunion
29: A Bonnet For Miss Gage
30: A Promise For The Future
Thanks for reading!
About the author
Acknowledgements
Sneak preview of Stranger at the Grove: Chapter 1: The Funeral
The Principal Inhabitants Of Great Maeswood
At Maeswood Hall:
Lady Saxby (47), a baron’s widow
Her step-daughter, Miss Cass Saxby (26)
Her daughters, Miss Agnes (20), Miss Flora (18), Miss Honora (16)
Her sons from her first marriage, Mr Jeffrey Rycroft (28), Mr Timothy Rycroft (24)
At the Dower House:
Mrs Edward Middlehope (Louisa, 30), a widow
Marie Fournier (23), her French maid
At Cloverstone Manor:
Squire Winslade (52)
His third wife, Lilian (28), who is ill
His daughter, Miss Susannah Winslade (26)
His son, Mr Henry Winslade (24)
At Lower Maeswood Grove:
Mr Laurence Gage (40), a widower
His children, Henrietta (15), Edward (12)
His sister, Miss Viola Gage (46)
At Green Lawns:
Mr David Exton (28), a reclusive widower
At Whitfield Villa:
Dr Beasley (54), a physician
His sister, Miss Phyllida Beasley (40)
At St Ann’s Parsonage:
Mr Theodore Truman (28), a clergyman
At Bramble Cottage:
Mrs Cokely (84), widow of a previous parson to the parish
Her daughter, Miss Lucy Cokely (44), a milliner
The Saxby Family
Hi-res version available here.
The Gage Family
Hi-res version available here.
The Middlehope Family
Hi-res version available here.
Great Maeswood Map
Hi-res version available here.
Great Maeswood Environs Map
Hi-res version available here.
1: The Dower House
MARCH
The post-chaise made a violent turn, throwing the ladies within against the squabs. Louisa gritted her teeth once more, and for about the hundredth time that day wished with all her heart for her comfortable carriage and her faithful, and very gentle, coachman. The chaise made a final lurch before stopping so abruptly that Marie was thrown almost from the seat.
Peering through grimy, rain-spattered windows, Louisa said, “We appear to have arrived.”
“Dieu merci!” Marie muttered, through the lavender-scented handkerchief held to her mouth.
“Courage, Marie. No more journeys for a very long time.”
Unseen hands
turned the outer handle of the chaise door, then rattled it and finally, as if in desperation, heaved it open with a crash. An unknown footman peered in. Hers, Louisa supposed, hired three days before from the agency in Shrewsbury. Well, he looked respectable enough, and he had an umbrella open, so he was not unintelligent.
She stepped down onto a weedy gravel drive, and looked at her new home. “Oh… Palladian. Not bad at all.” The classical lines and symmetry, the pedimented door with its fanlight and the arched windows suggested it was no more than fifty years old. “Not the old ruin I was expecting.”
“C'est bien petite,” Marie said under her breath. It is very small.
“Well, yes, it is small, but it is mine, Marie. Only mine. Not to be shared with anyone else.” Especially Pamela. It would do, she thought. It would suit her purposes.
The house looked well-kept, with not a shutter askew or a tile missing, and nothing else amiss that a dab of paint would not fix. The gardens were another matter. Long, desiccated grass stems had been flattened by winter rain, so that the lawns looked like an abandoned hayfield, and beyond were an orchard on one side and a collection of overgrown shrubs on the other, dank and dripping in the drizzle.
Several figures stood awaiting her at the top of the steps. A maid in a neat cap and apron, also from the agency. A man in an atrociously unfashionable coat and buckled shoes — the attorney, she supposed. Crossley. He had said he would meet her here. And two young ladies in black. No idea who they were.
She ascended the steps unhurriedly, so that the footman and his umbrella could keep pace with her.
“Welcome to Great Maeswood, Mrs Middlehope,” said the older of the two ladies in black, with a neat little curtsy. “I am Miss Saxby, and this is my sister, Miss Agnes Saxby. We bear greetings from our mother, Lady Saxby, who is indisposed today, but hopes to invite you to dine with us very soon. You know Mr Crossley, I think?”
Louisa reassessed the two ladies. She had not taken much notice of whose dower house she was to inhabit, but clearly these two were from the local big house. The elder was above twenty-five, at a guess, with undistinguished features and a dowdy appearance. The younger, about twenty, was dressed with more opulence but less taste, and was perhaps the plainest girl she had ever seen, poor child.
Nodding politely to the attorney, she said, “Thank you for your diligence, Mr Crossley. Good day to you all, and thank you for your welcome. I would invite you in, but I fear I have nothing in the house to offer you.”
“Oh, but there is,” said the younger Miss Saxby brightly. “We brought some supplies for you — tea, coffee, sugar, bread, that sort of thing. Oh, and a cherry cake and a lemon cake.”
“How very kind of you,” Louisa said. “Then I shall be able to offer you tea and cake, but for myself, I think I need brandy after the way the chaise careered through the gates. I brought a bottle with me, and a few other odds and ends, but forgot most of the staples.” And wine, she realised. How was she to manage without wine?
“Yes, but do come in,” Miss Saxby said. “Mr Crossley has all the keys for you, and then may we show you around? Or would you prefer to be left alone? Travelling is so upsetting to the system, is it not? Mama is always quite overset by it, so we will quite understand if you wish to rest and not be bothered by company.”
“Company is never a bother to me,” Louisa said firmly, “especially when it comes bearing cake.”
The entrance hall was small, and with herself and Marie, Mr Crossley and the two Saxby sisters, not to mention the servants and the boxes now being unloaded from the chaise, it felt uncomfortably crowded. It was the work of a few moments to dispatch Marie upstairs to unpack, the maid downstairs to make tea and Mr Crossley off the premises altogether, his work done once he had surrendered both sets of keys.
“Now, Miss Saxby, Miss Agnes, do give me a tour of the house. It should not take long, I think.”
She was quite right. Downstairs there was a parlour, a dining room, a drawing room and a study. Upstairs revealed a large bedroom with a dressing room attached, and two smaller bedrooms. She declined the offer of inspecting either the attics or the basement level, so they returned to the drawing room. Like the rest of the house, it displayed a classical elegance that was very pleasing, and the furnishings, although old-fashioned and a little faded, were of excellent quality. There was a good fire burning, with plenty of the best candles in the sconces, and everything was clean and polished.
While they waited for the manservant to lay out the tea things and the cherry cake, Louisa said, “This is a very pleasant room. I shall call it the saloon, I think. Every house should have a saloon. And a bottle of brandy,” she added, spying it already set out on the sideboard, with glasses at the ready. “That will do me more good than tea, I fancy. I had no idea a hired post-chaise could be so uncomfortable.”
“Will your own carriage be arriving soon?” Miss Saxby said, taking charge of the tea tray, as Louisa poured herself a generous measure of brandy.
Her own carriage! How she missed it, but she answered gaily, “I shall not need a carriage here, I fancy. I might buy a gig, perhaps. That will do very well.”
Miss Saxby said at once, “We have a gig and pony for sale. No longer required.”
“Cass—” her sister said, with an anxious glance.
“No longer required,” Miss Saxby said firmly.
“That would be most convenient, if we can agree on a price,” Louisa said cautiously, detecting undercurrents. “There is no hurry, however. It will be pleasant to drive about in the summer, but it will not be much needed at this time of year. My greatest need is for some more servants — a woman to help with the heavy work and laundry, and a man for the gardens. Have you any suggestions?”
“Mrs Preece’s sister will come for the indoor work. You will find her at the smithy on Glebe Lane,” Miss Saxby said crisply. “She is a good worker, and reliable. She will do plain needlework, as well — sheets, curtains, nightshirts, that sort of thing. The gardener is more difficult. The experienced ones are snapped up as soon as they become available. You would need to advertise in the Shrewsbury Chronicle and see if you can attract an under-gardener looking to move up, unless you are prepared to train one up yourself.”
“I should not mind that,” Louisa said. “I enjoy nothing better than grubbing about in the earth, so I shall do a great deal of the work myself, but I shall need a man to do the serious digging and scything.”
“Oh, in that case, the Timpson twins can help out. Mr Timpson from the shop has a vast brood of youngsters for hire. The twins are only thirteen… no, fourteen, but you pay only one and tuppence a day for the two, and excellent value it is, I assure you. If you want another maid, their sister Tilly is about ready to go into service.”
“You are a fount of useful information, Miss Saxby. Just one more question, if you please. Is there an inn nearby where I might obtain a proper meal? For my cook will not be here until next week, and I fear I cannot live on the scraps of food I brought with me and your cherry cake, excellent though it is.”
“Oh, you must not eat at the inn!” Miss Saxby cried. “Beth Brownsmith is the world’s worst cook.” Miss Agnes nodded her head in agreement. “It will do for your servants, but you must dine with us at the Hall. The carriage will collect you at half past five.”
~~~~~
Louisa agonised over the choice of gown. Most of her things would come by the carrier whenever her ladyship condescended to organise it. Entirely her own fault, of course, for leaving in such a rush, but as soon as she had received Esther’s letter telling her of the Dower House, she had been wild to be gone, to be alone at last, to be free. Now she found herself in a quandary, invited to dine at the house of noblewoman Lady Saxby, whose rank would decree a little dressing up, yet the family was in black. Difficult.
She discarded one of her favourite gowns, a deep peach velvet, which seemed too bright a colour for a house of mourning, and the pale green silk was altogether too grand for what s
he supposed would be a family dinner. Sighing, she allowed Marie to ease her into the dark blue muslin she had worn every evening for a week now.
“Are your quarters satisfactory, Marie?” Louisa said, as the maid laboriously buttoned the back of the gown.
“Pft,” was all the response she got.
Louisa laughed, for Marie complained about everything. “Too small, eh?”
“Je ne peux pas respirer, madame.” I cannot breathe.
“You will survive. We both will.”
“Oui, madame.” But she sounded unconvinced.
The carriage was prompt, and deposited her on the doorstep of Maeswood Hall at twenty minutes to six precisely. It was too dark to see much of the exterior, but inside she could see at once that it had been designed by the same sure hand responsible for the Dower House, albeit on a grander scale. From the marble-floored entrance hall, she was led through an inner hall with an elegant double staircase and thence to the saloon, a splendid room worthy of the name. She immediately reduced her own saloon to a mere drawing room.
A woman of middle years rose to greet Louisa as the butler announced her, and despite her age, the remains of great beauty were discernible. She wore her widow’s weeds in a fashionably flimsy style, her hair all drooping loose curls, and a fine muslin scarf dangling from her elbows, as if to emphasise her air of delicate fragility.
“Mrs Middlehope,” she said unsmilingly. “I am Lady Saxby. Welcome.”
“Thank you so much for such unlooked for hospitality,” Louisa said, as she made her curtsy. “But I am so glad to be here. This is a lovely house!”
Lady Saxby’s face at once lit up. “It is beautiful, is it not? This is the finest room, but the library is much admired, too. Do meet my family, Mrs Middlehope. Cass and Agnes you know already, but this is Flora, and here is my youngest, Honora.”
Flora, at least, had benefited from her mother’s looks, for she was the beauty of the family, and just as dainty. Louisa felt like a lumbering giant beside her. Honora was not so handsome, but would have been accounted a pretty girl in other company. How unfortunate to have an outstanding diamond in the family, constantly casting her sisters into the shade.