Stranger at the Dower House (Strangers Book 1)

by Mary Kingswood

  Laurence sat on one of the stone benches surrounding the sundial, hat in hands, looking miserable. When he saw her he jumped up, his face an endearing mixture of hope and anxiety. Louisa went slowly down the steps as he bounded up halfway to meet her.

  “Mrs Middlehope, I cannot tell you how—”

  “Stop at once,” she said, holding her hands up in appeal, but smiling to show she was not angry. “If you are going to call me ‘Mrs Middlehope’ in that horridly formal way, I shall be obliged to turn around and return to the house immediately.”

  He laughed, the tension dropping from his face instantly. “You are all generosity, as always. Thank you for meeting me, Louisa. I had no right to expect it, after the way I behaved. It was despicable, quite despicable. Permit me to say—”

  Again she held up her hands. “Do you know, I feel we could dispense with the grovelling apology altogether. Shall we just assume that you have made it and I have accepted it, and go back to being friends again at once? After all, I am not blameless myself in the matter of inappropriate advances, and I do feel that the less said the better.”

  He looked at her uncertainly. “But something needs to be said!”

  “You said all that was necessary in your letter.”

  “Even so…”

  “Very well,” she said. “You may have ten words, and not a word more, mind, to make your apology.”

  “Hmm… ten words. I am very sorry. Please forgive me. No, that is only seven words. I am very sorry for the unspeakable insult— No, that will not work. Ah, I have it! I am very sorry for the insult. Please forgive me.”

  She laughed. “That will do very well. You are forgiven. Let us shake hands on it, and be friends again.” He bowed in assent, and took her hand with a smile. She went on, “Shall we sit down? This is such a lovely spot, and sheltered from the wind. I should like to enjoy the flowers for a while. I miss my garden more than I had imagined when I left Roseacre.”

  “Have you settled the question of improvements to the Dower House garden?” he said, and she thought there was a trace of anxiety in his eyes.

  “Perhaps.”

  “I did hear,” he said tentatively, his gloved finger tracing a pattern on the bench, “that you might not stay here long. Your groom thought so, anyway. Is that true?”

  “Ah, well, that was the original plan,” she said, chuckling. “I was going to loosen the bonds of propriety for a while, and when I tired of that, I should move on somewhere, become respectable and lead a blameless existence thenceforth. Bath, I thought.”

  “Bath! A dull place for someone as lively as you, Louisa.”

  She stretched her legs out, leaning back on her hands. “I am not as lively as all that, you know. You have seen the absolute worst of me so you think me every kind of decadent, but I am quite a restrained person normally. A small house in Bath with a proper garden would suit me very well. Shops, a library, weekly concerts and everywhere within walking distance, and when I grow old and decrepit, I would be carried to the Pump Room every day in a chair. I feel I would make an admirable Bath quiz. Can you not picture it?”

  “No, and you would be so lonely. You need friends about you.”

  “Friends can be made more readily in the town than the country, and I could always find myself a companion.”

  He looked at her with clear distress in his face. “I should miss you abominably! You are the first person I have been able to talk to — truly talk to — since Malcolm left. I should be lost without you.”

  She put one hand on his. “My dear friend, it is so for me, too, but nothing is decided. That was my original plan, but now that I am settled here and have given up all plans for debauchery, perhaps I will stay for a while after all.”

  He was silent for a while, frowning and chewing his lip. She did not press him on why the prospect of her leaving so upset him. It was surprising, but then he was not his usual calm self just now. The diaries had knocked him out of his settled state and disrupted the even tenor of his life. He was bound to feel everything more acutely. It would be dangerous, however, for him to come to depend on her. She must be very cautious.

  With a sudden heave of breath, he said, “Do you think we should get married?”

  Louisa almost groaned. Sorrowfully, she said, “No, Laurence, I do not. It is not what you want, I thought, and it is certainly not what I want.”

  “But we get on so well and—”

  “That is hardly a reason to marry.”

  “But I could protect you from that horrible sister-in-law of yours, since you are too polite to do it. Mostly I do not want you to disappear to Bath, or anywhere else. Louisa, I feel as if everything that was once so certain has been swept away, the very ground beneath my feet has become shifting sand that may slide away from me at any moment. You are the one person who will listen and understand and not tell me I am being foolish, as Vi would.”

  She sighed. “And you feel guilty because of last night. These are the worst reasons in the world for an undertaking as serious as matrimony. You are very muddled, Laurence — not your usual sensible self at all, and I am afraid it is my fault. I have unthinkingly intruded into your peaceful existence and upended it entirely, for which I am deeply sorry. I should never have encouraged you to read those diaries, for you were perfectly contented before that.”

  “Do you know, I am not certain that being upended, as you put it, is such a bad thing. What you call contentment was a kind of suspended animation, I think, not fully alive. I was a wasp caught in the jam, unable to move forwards or backwards. But now… I may be muddled but at least I am feeling something again. It was good for me to read those diaries. You said it would make Catherine real to me, and that was true. I now know exactly what sort of a wife I had, and I cannot regret being undeceived, only that I turned my rage against you and offered you insult.”

  “Well, as to that, it was my own stupidity that put the idea of an affair into your head in the first place.”

  “Are you sure that is not a solution to our difficulties?” he said with suddenly twinkling eyes. “It avoids the permanence of marriage but it brings us something of the closeness of marriage.”

  “It would also bring us scandal and shame,” she said soberly. “I cannot see that either of us is of a nature to shrug off the disapprobation of the world, and you were the one to convince me of that, not to mention the inconvenience of drainpipes. Laurence, there is no solution unless we are of one mind. We can be friends or lovers or spouses, but there will only be lasting harmony if we both want the same thing. Since I do not want marriage and neither of us truly wants a clandestine liaison, we are left with only one option, I believe.”

  “Friendship,” he said softly, with the lightest release of breath, like a sigh.

  “Is it enough?” she said. “I promise not to decamp to Bath at a moment’s notice… or at all, possibly. I rather like Great Maeswood, as it happens. I have a good vintner, my horse, my man-cook, my pianoforte and two gorgeous little pups. I daresay I shall have my books eventually. And I have good company — two evenings a week of cards, and a friend to drink Cognac with. I am content with that, but will it content you?”

  The tension dropped away from him, so that his face softened. “That would content me,” he said quietly. Then, with a mischievous smile, “For the moment, at least. I accept that an affair would not suit us, considering the drainpipes and so forth, but I have not yet conceded the point on marriage.”

  “Stop it!” she said, laughing and playfully tapping his hand. “Do not tease me on the subject, for I am quite implacable, and any further discussion might annoy me sufficiently to drive me in all haste to Bath.”

  He laughed too. “Your wishes are noted. And now, if you will forgive me, it is time for me to prostrate myself before Lady Mountsea and beg her forgiveness.”

  “It seems to be your day for apologies,” Louisa said.

  “Yes, and this one is likely to need more than ten words,” he said with a grimace. �
�Are you ready to return to the house? May I offer you my arm?”

  She accepted, and they walked back through the gardens in perfect harmony.

  ~~~~~

  Laurence had planned to depart for Bath at once to investigate the false Mrs Haywood, but he found himself finding excuses to put it off. He was delayed in part by Viola’s dismay at hosting the Tuesday card evening alone, and partly by his own desire to wait until Lady Mountsea had departed for the north once more. He could not be easy in his mind until he knew that Louisa was free of her unwelcome guest.

  His proffered apology had been turned aside with a wave of her ladyship’s hand. “But of course I understand, Mr Gage,” she had trilled. “I understand only too well how dear Louisa feels, and naturally I’ve never been offended that she chose to settle so far from Roseacre. So many sad memories for her! Poor, poor Louisa, and you’re quite right to say that two hundred miles is not far enough, but then two thousand isn’t enough when she carries her sorrow with her. But there, she bears it wonderfully, doesn’t she? No one would guess how she suffers.”

  He gave it up. Clearly no power on earth could convince Lady Mountsea that she, and she alone, was the cause of Louisa’s departure.

  Viola brought news on Tuesday that her ladyship’s carriage had been seen passing through the village, laden with luggage, although she took it as a personal affront that she had not observed it herself. “I had not the least notion of it, for there was no sign of activity at the Dower House when I went into the village, and unluckily I had called on Jane Anderson, quite out of sight of the road. And then when I got to Timpson’s, I had to hear it from Mrs Timpson, and perhaps I should not have believed it, for she is shockingly untruthful, you know, except that Kitty Preece was in there buying oranges — oranges! What should they want with oranges at the smithy, I should like to know? It is excessively extravagant, if you want my opinion. But she said it was quite true, she had seen it go by herself as she was just coming out of Birch’s, and Mr Birch confirmed it. Can you imagine it, that man-cook of Mrs Middlehope’s has ordered duck twice weekly, and a turkey and a green goose every week from him. And chicken! So much chicken! Well, they have none of their own, I suppose. And any game birds in season, Mr Birch said. All for one widow. She cannot possibly eat so much, and no one feeds game to the servants. It is quite excessive, if you want my opinion.”

  “Perhaps she plans to entertain,” Laurence said, suddenly hopeful. Dinner with Louisa at the Dower House! That would be fun.

  “Oh… perhaps she does. Well, that would be very proper, to return our hospitality. I wish Mr Truman would hurry up and get married, so that he might have dinners, too.”

  “He entertains the gentlemen,” Laurence said. “A very good table he keeps, too. His cook is excellent.”

  “That is neither here nor there,” Viola said. “A single man with an income above two thousand! He should marry, and provide the neighbourhood with an extra family to dine with — that the ladies may dine with, that is to say. It is his duty. Although if he is angling for one of the Saxby girls, they will be in mourning for some time yet.”

  Laurence never attempted to dissuade Viola from this line of thought, even when he disagreed with her, but in this case they were of one mind. He had his own reasons for wishing that Truman would marry that had nothing to do with the excellence of his cook. Louisa seemed to have given up the idea of taking a lover, but Truman was a slippery character and a decided flirt who might yet succeed in enticing her, and then Laurence would lose her friendship.

  That evening, he was relieved to see Louisa back at the card table, and looking in decidedly better spirits, but he made very sure to keep Truman at a different table. Viola, for her part, made very sure to keep Laurence from her table, too, which amused him. Considering how often she had told him that he ought to remarry, she was very determined that he should not take Louisa as his wife… or anything else. But he went unresisting where Viola directed him. There was pleasure enough in knowing that his good friend was in the room and sitting not ten feet from him, even if he could not be any closer to her.

  24: A Visit To Bath

  It was Wednesday morning before Laurence set off for Bath, together with Mr Willerton-Forbes and his valet. The lawyer had insisted on coming along, and using his own very commodious carriage.

  “There is nothing for me to do until Captain Edgerton returns from his travels, and I feel some responsibility, having set this particular hare running,” he told Laurence. “Besides, it is always helpful to have a lawyer by your side, and my man can do for you as well, so you need not deprive Miss Gage of her footman.”

  It was certainly helpful to Laurence’s state of mind to have company on the journey. Willerton-Forbes was an entertaining companion, who dropped the names of dukes and marquesses into the conversation with casual aplomb. The valet, a slender, black-clad man called Neate, attended to Laurence with unobtrusive efficiency and turned him out looking somewhat less rustic than usual, so that he almost wondered if it might be time to leave John to be a footman and get himself a proper valet.

  They arrived in Bath late on Thursday, and were outside the bank at nine o’clock sharp the following day.

  “First, the money,” Willerton-Forbes had said. “Then the attorney you employed. Only then, fully armed, as it were, shall we approach the lady.”

  The banker was a serious man of no more than thirty-five, but he had been overseeing the account for several years and knew all about it. He received them civilly but with a cautious eye towards the lawyer.

  “My uncle was the one who first set up the account for you, Mr Gage,” he said. “He is the senior partner now, and will be in a little later if you wish to speak to him in person, but he apprised me of all the circumstances. I trust there is no difficulty with our handling of your daughter’s inheritance?”

  “Not at all. May I see the present balance?” Laurence said.

  “Of course. You will find everything in order, the principal sum is here, you see, with the various dispositions that we have made. The interest is added here, you see, and the payments made to Mrs Haywood, here and here, and again here, exactly as specified in your instructions.”

  Laurence was aware of a slight release of tension in Willerton-Forbes. He had truly feared some embezzlement of the capital by Mrs Haywood, or whatever her name was.

  “Do you wish to make any changes?” the banker said, when they had examined the documents. “I assure you that this bank is completely sound, and I can provide all our accounts if—”

  “No, no,” Laurence said. “It is not your bank that is in question, but Mrs Haywood.”

  He left Willerton-Forbes to explain, admiring the lawyer’s dry but precise phrasing as he summarised his discoveries succinctly.

  The banker nodded thoughtfully. “We have always considered it an odd arrangement, but it is not for a bank to question its clients’ dispositions,” he said. “Since you hold the account in trust for your daughter, Mr Gage, you may, if you wish, order us to suspend all payments to Mrs Haywood until this matter has been resolved in law. We act only on your instructions.”

  “That would be most helpful,” Willerton-Forbes murmured. “Does Mrs Haywood come in person to draw money from the account?”

  “No, she has requested us to transfer the payments to an account at another bank.”

  “Then she would have no reason to withdraw any sums from this account?”

  “None at all, sir, and we should naturally refuse any such request.”

  As they left the bank, Willerton-Forbes said, “It is a great weight off my mind, Mr Gage, to know that your daughter’s inheritance is secure and Miss Gage will not be disadvantaged. And now for Mr Guddle.”

  The callow young attorney that Laurence remembered had grown sleek and fat in the sixteen years since he had last seen him. Gone were the threadbare coat, scuffed shoes and moth-eaten wig, replaced by the products of the finest artisans of the clothing trade. Clearly the legal pr
ofession had been kind to him. Passing through an outer office filled with silently scratching clerks to an inner sanctorum awash with dazzlingly polished mahogany, Laurence and Willerton-Forbes beheld the attorney rising from behind a vast desk, a row of gold fobs dangling from a waistcoat stretched over an ample stomach.

  “Good day to you, Mr… erm, Gage and Mr Forbes,” the attorney said, reading their cards. “How may I be of assistance?”

  “We should like to talk to you about a marriage settlement that you helped to draw up sixteen years ago,” Laurence said.

  “Certainly, certainly. I had not been in practice long then, but I will have all the documents safe, naturally. What were the names of the parties concerned?”

  “Myself and Miss Catherine Haywood.”

  The attorney started. “Miss… Miss Haywood.” He picked up Laurence’s card again. “Oh… Gage.” The colour visibly drained from his face, and he licked his lips. “I… yes, of course. I remember the case well. My first marriage settlement, although I have drawn up a great many since that day. A great many. What… what did you wish to ask about, Mr Gage?”

  Willerton-Forbes cleared his throat. “About the fact that one of the beneficiaries named in that settlement, Mrs Eugenia Haywood, masqueraded under a false name,” he said smoothly. “About the unusual and injurious clauses contained within that settlement. About the concerted effort to deprive an innocent young man of monies to which he was fully entitled.”

  There was a prolonged silence, as Guddle paled even more. A sheen of sweat marred his forehead. “False name…” he croaked. “I… I had no idea. But… but… Mr Gage signed the document. He signed it freely… didn’t you, sir? You signed it freely.”