by Sue Barr
Mr. Bryant froze, uncertainty marring his rugged face. At George’s sly wink, he gave a wide smile.
“I’m doin’ grand.”
“Phillip, I placed some blankets on one of the beds upstairs. Go on and make your bed and then come back down for something to eat.”
The boy headed up the stairs and George indicated with a nod for Mr. Bryant to follow him out to the back paddock. Once safely out of Phillip’s hearing, he explained the need to pose as his nephew.
“I’ll do whatever you need, M’Lord. I guess I should tell my Anna there’s two more for supper.”
“Thank you, Mr. Bryant. I think you will find Phillip to be a quick study and I am sure he will be a good junior groomsman in no time.”
“Not many ‘orses ‘ere to groom these days, what with the Duchess gone t’the North.”
George turned and took in the view of Keswick Manor’s grounds and buildings. Maybe it was time he took up his mother’s offer to sign the estate over to him. He’d declined before because he’d been knee deep in espionage, but now that he’d ‘retired’, the estate could use his attention.
“Mr. Bryant, my mother has offered me Keswick Manor, and I believe I shall accept. It is time we bring this place back to life.”
Chapter Five
With her head resting against the back of the settee, Kitty fought to keep her eyes open. Aunt Philips was seated across from their mother, their tea gone cold they’d been gossiping for so long. Mama insisted Kitty stay downstairs until after supper, but she was exhausted. Her sleep remained disturbed every time she moved in the bed.
Fortunately, the pain from her ribs had decreased dramatically to a dull ache and by the end of the week, when Lord George returned, she planned on being fit to travel. Two days hence, Mr. Wilson promised to check her progress and advise Papa. She’d even walk upright and bear the pain to sway the good doctor’s opinion. Nothing would keep her from attending Aunt and Uncle Gardiner’s home in London. This was her first time being invited and it was long overdue.
Mama and Aunt Philips had spoken of nothing else but Lord George from the minute Aunt walked through the door. How much more could they expound upon his features, his clothing, his manners? After a polite half hour Papa scuttled back to his book room and Mary took to practicing the pianoforte in the other parlor.
Kitty cocked her head and listened. The music sounded beautiful, almost haunting in its rendering. She closed her eyes and let the perfectly executed melody flow through her senses. No longer did she wince when her elder sister pounded the ivory keys. It seemed her sister held more than secret books close to her chest. She hoped that were true. Mary suffered enough of Mama’s thoughtless tongue. Why, at one Assembly, she declared Mary couldn’t carry a tune even if she put the music in a bucket and walked around with it.
“Oh sister, he had such an air about him, such a gentleman and he must have a vast fortune. He thought nothing of losing ten pounds. Ten pounds! Can you imagine?”
“No, indeed I could not.”
“And that’s not all. He made sure our Kitty was looked after. He even gave us some of his own laudanum so she would rest easy.”
“Truly a gentleman. We don’t have many of them here, in Meryton.”
“No, we do not. Lady Lucas would like us to believe her family’s all high and mighty, but I remember them from before Sir William was knighted.” Mrs. Bennet shook out her skirt in agitation. “She didn’t have Lucas Lodge back then and it’s not nearly as grand as Longbourn.”
“Now, Fanny. Don’t get upset. Everyone knows you are the better hostess. People vie for invitations to your dinners.”
“Yes, they do.” Mollified, Mrs. Bennet settled back and fanned her cheeks. “And my girls have married well. No paltry vicars for them. My Jane and Lizzy are mistresses of grand estates and Lydia is the belle of the ball in Newcastle – wherever that is.” Mrs. Bennet glanced over to her injured daughter. “And Kitty’s on her way to a great marriage as well. Lord Kerr is besotted. Why, he had his arms around her in a most forward manner. I’m surprised Mr. Bennet didn’t have the banns read this past Sunday over his behavior.”
“Mama!” Kitty protested. “Lord Kerr had no choice but to hold me on the horse or I would have fallen off. There was nothing untoward in his behavior at all.”
She couldn’t stop the heat from rising upon her cheeks at the memory of his strong arms, or how wonderful it felt to lean back against his solid chest. For a moment she wondered what it would be like to always have him there, making sure she was protected.
She shook her head. Never going to happen and it was time she pulled her thoughts out of the clouds and prepare to be more ladylike and act with understated decorum when he escorted her and Mary to London.
“I’ve watched many men throughout my life Catherine Bennet and I know when a man is more than interested in a young woman.” Mama turned to face her sister. “You mark my words. Lord George Kerr will ask Mr. Bennet if he can pay his addresses before the month is out.”
“You’re never wrong, Fanny. Look at Bingley. It took him an inordinate amount of time to ask for Jane’s hand, but you had him pegged right from the start.”
“Yes, I did.” Mama preened. She loved to be in the right and her sister loved to stroke her ego. “I knew she couldn’t be so beautiful for nothing.”
Mary entered the room and moved to sit with Kitty. Before she settled, and while her back was to their mother and aunt, she rolled her eyes. Kitty stifled a giggle for two reasons. One, her ribs still ached and two, her mother didn’t require more reason to believe that she was a silly girl.
“I heard you playing, Mary. Were you trying out a new piece?” she asked.
Mary carefully arranged her skirts before answering. “Yes. I was inspired by Miss Darcy’s playing when we were last at Pemberley and asked Papa if I could purchase some sheets of Mozart’s music.”
“Whatever you chose was beautiful. I quite liked it.”
“Thank you,” Mary said, her cheeks flushing a becoming pink.
All the ladies’ attention was drawn to the door of the parlor as their butler appeared.
“Mrs. Bingley,” Griggs announced.
“Jane has come!” Mrs. Bennet rose to her feet and hurried to the door, greeting her eldest daughter with a kiss on the cheek. She glanced over Jane’s shoulder toward the front entry. “Is Charles not with you, dear?”
“No, Mama. We have only just arrived from London and when I heard the news about Kitty, I made haste to Longbourn.”
Jane gave her Aunt Philips a kiss on the cheek before turning toward the couch where Kitty and Mary sat.
“You were in London? Whatever for?” Mrs. Bennet queried. She returned to her seat and waited for Jane to answer, who took her time moving gracefully toward a chair closest to Kitty.
“Charles had business to attend. He has many things to take care of with all the troubles near his textile mills up North.” Jane turned her attention from her mother and gazed at Kitty, her expression, as always, peaceful. “And how are you faring, Kitty? Mama’s note said you were nearly killed, although you look quite fine to me.”
“Oh Jane, it was dreadful. Kitty was trampled by Lord Kerr’s horse.” Mrs. Bennet’s hands began to flutter toward her chest, trembling and waving about.
“Mama, Lord Kerr’s horse did not trample me.” Kitty faced Jane. “He jumped over me at the last moment and I fell into the ditch.”
“Still, much excitement I would presume.” Jane smiled at her
Kitty could never understand how Jane kept her composure during even the most turbulent of times. She always had a kind word, regardless of how she was treated. Evidenced by how nice she remained with Charles’ sister, although Caroline Bingley seemed to have undergone a drastic character transition since meeting and becoming engaged to Lord George’s brother Nathan.
Thoughts of Lord George caused her to smile slightly. Jane as usual noted her smile but made no comment. Instead, she focused
on what happened on the road with Lord George and his horse.
“How did Lord Kerr come to almost run you over with his horse?”
“I am not sure. I had just turned off the laneway from Lucas Lodge and gone a few paces down that little incline when I heard his approach. Before I could move out of the way, he had already crested the hill and jumped over me at the very last minute.”
“How frightening, and you are well? No permanent damage?” Jane cast a glance at Kitty’s foot, propped up on a cushion on the couch.
“I have bruised ribs, which are healing and a sprained ankle. Also healing.”
“Oh, my goodness, Kitty. It could have been so much more.” Jane’s voice wobbled.
Kitty frowned. Jane usually wasn’t so perturbed.
“I am well.” She hastened to comfort her sister. “Truly. Lord Kerr brought me home safe and sound and I am none the worse for wear.”
Jane’s eyes glistened with tears.
“What would I do if I lost one of my sisters?”
With great practicality, Mary handed Jane a plain linen handkerchief.
“Thank you, Mary.” Jane dabbed her eyes. “I do not know what has gotten into me. Lately I cry over the silliest of things. Charles is convinced he married a water pot.”
“Jane, have you been feeling this way long?” Mary queried, tugging her chair closer.
“No, just these past few weeks.” Jane dabbed her eyes again. “Why do you ask?”
Casting a quick peek toward their mother, still engrossed in conversation with their Aunt, Mary lowered her voice. “Have you had your monthly courses?”
“Mary!” Jane’s face flushed a deep red.
“You and I have both seen Mama when she was in the first few months of carrying a baby. Think about this, Jane. You are emotional and look extremely fatigued.”
“We only just arrived back from London. Of course, I am fatigued.” Jane protested, twisting the handkerchief into a tight spiral, the only sign she portrayed of great emotion. Finally, she raised her gaze to Mary’s. “What if I am? Please do not say anything to Mama. I will tell her when I am sure.”
“Your secret is safe with us, Jane.” Kitty whispered and looked at her other sister. “Is that not right, Mary?”
“To the grave.” Mary replied.
Kitty settled back with a sigh. Never once had she shared a secret with Jane. Oh, she’d kept Lydia’s secret and she’d keep Mary’s hollowed out book quiet, but she’d never been allowed into the tight twosome of Jane and Lizzy. And then she had her very own deep, dark secret only Papa knew about and he would never tell.
“What is happening up North, Jane?” Mama called out, breaking into their conversation. “Are Charles’ mills in danger of being closed down?”
“No, Mama.” Jane turned in her seat to face her mother and aunt. “We are fortunate that Charles has always treated his workers fairly. Even though he introduced new machinery, he has been very careful not to cut jobs. In fact, with the expansion the machines have allowed, he hired more men and some women as well.”
“That’s wonderful news. I worry so much about his business. I don’t know what we’d do if he lost all his money and you had to come live with us, and then when Mr. Collins takes over Longbourn, he’ll kick us all out…” Mama began to wail.
Jane rose, gave Kitty a ‘forgive me’ smile and went to her mother’ side.
“Mama, do not worry about Charles. You forget he also has a shipping company in Liverpool. Textiles are only a small portion of his business, although lately it absorbs most of his time.”
“Whatever do you mean?”
“He leaves for Lancashire tomorrow and will be gone for almost three weeks.”
“You must go with him, Jane.” Mama clasped Jane’s hand to her bosom. “You are but newlyweds and your place is by his side.”
“I have need to stay home and take care of things here.” Jane extracted her hand with grace and settled on a chair near her mother.
“That will not do! You must go with him,” Mrs. Bennet cried out. With a furtive glance toward Kitty and Mary, she hissed out, “Men have needs.”
Once again Jane blushed deep red and both girls acted as though they’d heard nothing. Poor Jane, Kitty thought. Although Jane modulated her tone, her reply to Mrs. Bennet still carried over to where her younger sisters sat.
“I have no fear that Charles will stray from the marital bed, Mama. He is most faithful.”
Mrs. Bennet blew out a harsh breath. “I still say you should keep him close. Once you are with child, then you are secure.”
“Mama, I have no reason to doubt Charles, and I refuse to entertain your fears.” Jane patted her mother’s hand and rose to her feet. “I must return to Netherfield Park. I still have to unpack from London.”
“So soon?” Mrs. Bennet also rose. “You didn’t even have a cup of tea.”
“I shall have some when I get home.” Jane approached their Aunt and gave her a polite kiss on the cheek. “It was lovely to see you again, Aunt Philips. When Charles has returned from Lancashire, we shall have a dinner party.”
“That would be lovely, Jane.”
“Good day, Mary. I hope you heal quickly, Kitty.”
Jane floated from the room and Kitty watched as her mother plopped back down in a state of agitation, looking at her sister with wide eyes.
“Oh, sister. Whatever am I going to do? Jane will lose Charles for sure.” She began to weep while Aunt Philips calmly sipped her tea.
Mary caught Kitty’s attention and rolled her eyes. There was no need to attend any theatres in London. They had their very own personal comedy playing out before their eyes.
***
Dressed as a common laborer, George approached the servant’s entrance of Viscount Stanhope’s estate. He’d ridden over on Mr. Bryant’s horse, not wanting the servants to wonder and comment about a fine steed like Buttons. He slid off the horse, tethered him to a handy post and knocked on the heavy oak door which was opened by what he assumed was the cook.
“We’re not expectin’ any deliveries, what do ye want?”
George removed his cloth cap and held it to his chest, showing respect for the woman’s position in the house.
“Sorry t’bother you, ma’am,” he stuttered out with a Yorkshire drawl. “I’m ‘ere t’see Mrs. Sheraton.”
It had taken most of the morning, but he’d managed to coax Phillip’s last name out of him. The young lad was cagey and didn’t give up information easily. George knew if he gained his trust, the boy would be faithful forever and he already had plans for his future, although he wasn’t about to scare him away with thoughts of school and a much-needed bath.
“Mrs. Sheraton is busy with ‘er duties.”
The cook didn’t budge, nor did she open the door further than a crack.
“I won’t take much of ‘er time. I know how busy a great house like this can be. I have news of ‘er son, Phillip.”
The cook glared at him. A few long seconds passed before she nodded and said, “Stay ‘ere. I’ll fetch ‘er.”
With that she closed the door and George heard the lock sliding into place. Viscount Stanhope had trained his staff well. Breaking into his home wouldn’t be easy. Not impossible, just not easy.
He waited for a few minutes and then the lock slid open again and a thin woman stood in the door frame. Although her hair was tucked beneath a mob cap, George noted that not only was the auburn shade identical to Phillip’s, but also her wide blue eyes, currently filled with worry.
“You have news of my son?”
At first George was taken aback by her cultured voice. This woman had not been born into servitude. She kept checking over her shoulder, as though expecting someone to come along and interrupt them at any time.
“Aye, Mrs. Sheraton, I do.”
“Is he all right? Is he alive?” Her work worn hand fluttered to her throat and her eyes filled with tears.
“No, the little blighter is fine,” Geo
rge hastened to assure her. “I’m ‘ere to let you know ‘e’s workin’ fer my uncle, Mr. Bryant, over at Keswick Manor. It’s a half mile outside the village of Northwick.”
“Thank God.” She swayed on her feet and leaned heavily against the open door.
“Mrs. Sheraton, are you all right?” He stepped closer, ready to catch her if she fell.
“Yes.” She straightened to her full height and held his gaze. “May I visit my son when I have some time?”
“I think ‘e’d like that.” Seeing that determined lift to her chin reminded him of Catherine. Strong women came in many forms. “I’ll take my leave.” He nodded at her and placed his cap back on his head.
“Thank you for telling me in person. God bless you, Lord Kerr.”
“What did you say?” George felt as though the ground had fallen from beneath his feet.
“Have no fear from me. Just take good care of my son.”
Mrs. Sheraton slipped back inside the house. Once again, the locked grated across its brackets and George remained staring at the closed door. Who in the world was Mrs. Sheraton?
The next morning as George descended from the rooms above the stable, he heard a bucket hitting the floor and Phillip crying out, “Mum!” By the time he reached the bottom of the stairs, Mrs. Sheraton was crouched low, hugging Phillip tight in her arms. At his arrival she slowly rose.
“Mrs. Sheraton, a pleasure to see you again.” George said by way of greeting.
“You know Mr. Bryant’s nephew, Mum?” Phillip asked, clutching his mother’s hand tight in his.
“As a matter of fact, I do. Good day to you Mr…?”
“Mr. Daniel Bryant, in case you didn’t remember me first name, Mrs. Sheraton.”
“Ah, yes, Daniel. I remember it now.” She smiled at him and then looked down at Phillip. “What is it that you do for Mr. Bryant?”
“Ah, Mum, I look after the ‘orses.”
“That’s horses, dearest. Remember to pronounce the ‘h’.”
“No one cares if I say the ‘h’.”
“I care, Phillip,” Mrs. Sheraton chastised gently. “Finish your task. I have to speak with Mr. Bryant for a few moments.”