by Lynne, Karen
Abby? When did he start thinking of her in that way? He wondered what she would think of his son. He pushed the thought from his mind as the footmen began to clear the dishes from the table.
“Gentlemen, you’re welcome to stay for a little longer and enjoy your port, or you may come with us into the drawing room.” Mrs Notley rose from her seat. The gentlemen all stood while the ladies strode out of the room. Mr Albert and Mr Dalton followed. Andrew sat back down as the door closed behind them. He watched the amber liquid as the footman filled his glass. He relaxed and sipped the drink, letting his head clear.
* * *
“Abby, dear, why don’t you play for us?” her aunt requested.
The windows were open, letting in a cool breeze. Abby walked over to the pianoforte and sat down, then began her favourite tune. Sir Andrew had not come into the drawing room with the rest, and she wondered why. Mr Dalton joined her on the bench, turning the pages of her sheet music while Mrs Notley wrangled the other three into a game of cards.
“Mr Dalton, what shall I play next?” Abby asked as they put their heads together, shuffling through the sheet music.
Sir Andrew walked through the door and settled into a high-back chair, swinging one of his shiny boots over his leg and listened. Abby could feel his presence, strong and commanding.
Mr Dalton slid in closer as she continued to play, his leg touching hers, Mr Dalton leaned in as he turned the pages of her music. Though his warmth was comfortable, it held no sparks. It was like sitting next to her brother, she thought as she turned and gave him a smile.
She noticed Sir Andrew watching them as she peered over Mr Dalton’s shoulder. His eyes darkened, and a firmness settled on his lips as he gripped the arm of the chair.
The clock on the mantle chimed nine when she finished her last song and rose from the bench.
“Lady Abigale, you play very well,” Mr Dalton complimented her.
“Thank you, Mr Dalton, I do enjoy playing.” They wandered over to the card table where Abby hoped to enjoy a better view of Sir Andrew, but Mr. Dalton suddenly announced, “I must be leaving.” He leaned over and, taking Abby’s hand, placed a kiss on her knuckles. “I hope you will go driving with me next week, Lady Abigale.”
“You will not be returning to Bristol with your sister?”
“Not for a few weeks,” he admitted.
“Then I would love to go for a ride,” Abby assured him.
“Delightful, I look forward to it.” Mr Dalton bowed and bid her goodnight. “Isabella, will you walk me to the door?” her brother asked.
Isabella looked at him with surprise but complied with his request. Brother and sister left the drawing-room while Mr Albert stood and took hold of Aunt Lucy’s hand. “I must take my leave as well, for the hour is late. But I should be back tomorrow.” Tucking her hand in his arm, they walked out of the room.
When the door closed behind them, Abby clapped her hands. “Mrs Notley, I think Aunt Lucy is being courted.’
“Yes, my dear.” She laughed. “I think she is.”
“I am so happy for her.” Abby giggled, hardly able to contain her excitement.
“Won’t you miss her if she marries?” Sir Andrew asked.
Abby turned to him her eyes wide. “Yes, of course, I will miss her, but I wouldn’t want to stop her happiness. I should see her at holidays, I would hope, for she wouldn’t live far.”
Mrs Notley patted Abby’s arm,” You are a good girl. I can see why Lucy is so proud of you.”
Andrew cleared his throat, “Well, Mrs Notley, thank you for dinner. I am sorry you will be missing the garden party.”
Abby and Mrs Notley walked him to the door. Aunt Lucy and Isabella watched as the other carriages left.
“Lady Phelips, an invitation to my garden party, has been sent, inviting you and your niece. I hope you will accept.” He bowed.
“Thank you, Sir Andrew, I’m sure we will.” Her aunt smiled.
The four ladies stood at the door as the last guest, Sir Andrew, departed into the night.
It had been a lovely evening. Abby laced her arm with Isabella’s and turned to ascend the stairs.
“Isabella, your last day is tomorrow. Before your return to Bristol, let’s spend the day together doing something we enjoy.”
Isabella nodded, keeping her head down. Abby noticed her eyes were shimmering like pools of glass. “Isabella, what is the matter?’
“It is nothing, Abby. I am fine.” Isabella gave her a weak smile, but her chin trembled.
“I can certainly see that you are not fine.” Abby guided Isabella to her bedchamber. “Come, let us talk about it.” Abby led her into the sitting room and lowered her onto the couch. Looking around, she snatched a handkerchief from the bureau and placed it in Isabella’s hand.
Isabella nodded her thanks, unable to speak.
Betsy was preparing Abby’s bedclothes in the other room. “Betsy, you may go now. I’ll call you when I need you.”
“Yes, my lady.” Her maid quickly retreated and closed the door softly behind her.
Abby settled next to her friend, placing her hand on Isabella’s.
“You were perfectly fine before you escorted your brother to the door. Did he say something to upset you? I should have words with him if he did,” Abby threatened.
“Oh—, no, no,” Isabella replied between sniffles. “Benjamin has been so kind to me since he met you. I would not have that ruined. He does like you, Abby.”
“And I like him, too, but I will not have him causing you distress.”
“My brother has not caused me distress. It’s just what he said.” Isabella blew her nose into Abby’s handkerchief. “He warned me that my parents were planning to have me marry Mr Stone.”
“So… you do not want to marry Mr Stone?” Abby watched Isabella try to dry her tears. Stone, the name was very plain she thought.
Isabella shook her head as the tears started again. “He is too old for me.”
“Oh, when you say old, like Sir Andrew?” Abby’s eyes twinkled while trying to coax a smile out of Isabella.
Isabella chuckled between her sobs. “Oh, Abby, if only he were like Sir Andrew, but he’s not. He is more like your aunt’s Mr Albert.”
“Mr Albert . . . why he’s old enough to be your father!”
Isabella nodded her head vigorously as she wiped her nose. “Mr Stone is nice enough, but I don’t want to be his wife.”
“Of course not.” Abby patted her hand as she sat back against the couch, wondering what she could do to help. “What will you do?”
Isabella dried her tears as she finished blowing her nose then she sighed with resignation. “I suppose I will have to marry him if my parents insist.”
“No, no, you shall not, Isabella. Promise me you will not marry someone you do not love and who is older, much older. You shall run away if that happens.”
Isabella chuckled her lashes still damp from her tears. “Abby, I have no friends to run to, no money, nowhere to go.”
Abby sat, thinking, her mind racing. “Yes— yes, you do.” She quickly stood and rushed to her desk. Pulling out some paper, she dashed off an address. Opening her desk drawer again, she pulled out a pouch and emptied the coins onto the desk, counting quickly. She put the coins back into her pouch and folded the note and stuffed it in the bag.
Abby returned to the couch and sat next to Isabella before pressing the pouch into her hands. “If you find yourself being forced to marry someone you don’t love, I want you to take this money. I have placed the address to Fyne Court. You are to come and find your way there. Promise me.” Abby squeezed Isabella’s hands.
“But, Abby,” Isabella tried to push the bag back into Abby’s hands. “I cannot take your money.”
“Yes, you can, for we are like sisters, you and I. Do it for Eliza and William. They would not want you to be unhappy.”
Isabella relaxed into the couch, gripping the bag to her chest.
“Promise me, Isa
bella, or I shall have no rest worrying about you.”
Isabella looked up through her once again watering eyes. “I promise, Abby.” She smiled. “Thank you.”
“There now.” Abby patted Isabella’s arm. “You should like Fyne Court. Mrs Baker is the housekeeper there. She takes care of all the young ladies who find themselves in need. She taught me how to make apple tarts.”
“She sounds wonderful.” Isabella smiled.
“Now, tomorrow we shall have a grand day all to ourselves. We will hire one of those sedan chairs to take us about the city and stop in and get some strawberry ice.”
Isabella nodded; her tears now dry.
Abby walked Isabella back to her bedchamber and made sure she was safe before returning to her own room. Abby would have the butler notify visitors that they were not receiving tomorrow so they could enjoy the day together.
* * *
Sir Andrew met with his steward that morning, following up on the invitation to Lady Phelips and her niece. He was assured the message had been delivered that morning to Mrs Notley’s residence.
His mind at rest over that matter, he entered the playroom set up downstairs in one of the parlours. He had a desk put in so he could work while observing his son at play. A small wooden riding pony sat in the corner where the sun filtered through the window, and when opened, a breeze blew in, immersing the room with fresh air. Small wooden animals in pairs, scattered around the wooden ark of Noah, lay undisturbed on the carpet as if his son had just been there.
He sat down at his desk. Broken crayons and pencils were still scattered at the other end where his son wrote. He smiled as he pulled up some paper and dipped his quill.
Mr Dalton, Mr Woodland, and Mr Tingley would be his first gentlemen to investigate. He must find out more about their character. Writing some more information for his solicitor, he sealed the letter to deliver that day. His solicitor would be able to check the integrity of these men.
Andrew checked on the progress of the party, making sure everything was in order. He felt the need to make a good impression with Lady Abigale. He hoped she approved of his estate.
* * *
Abby entered the breakfast-parlour to find her friends already there. She chose a light breakfast of toast and fruit from the buffet and sat down next to Isabella. She unfurled her napkin and placed it on her lap, checking to see if Isabella survived the night.
“I am fine, Abby,” Isabella reassured her, giving her hand a squeeze.
Abby looked into Isabella’s eyes. There were no traces of tired circles or puffiness. She appeared to be happy. Abby relaxed and continued to eat her breakfast.
“Abby, dear, we have received an invitation from Sir Andrew this morning for his garden party. He has invited us to stay the weekend and has graciously included Mr Albert.” Her aunt beamed with pleasure.
“You shall enjoy yourselves, I’m sure,” Mrs Notley commented. “Sir Andrew’s garden party is the highlight of the summer for the citizens of Bath. The fortunate guests who are invited for the weekend enjoy his beautiful manor, which has the most exquisite gardens.”
Abby’s eyes brightened. “I look forward to exploring the gardens.”
“I’m sorry. I shall not be there, but Lucy, you must come back and stay here for as long as you wish,” Mrs Notley said.
“Helena, that is most generous, but we can find rooms at the hotel now that the Season is over.” Aunt Lucy replied.
“No, no, I insist. With my niece, Eliza, married to your nephew, William, we are family now. Besides, the house will just sit here empty with all these servants.”
“If you put it like that, Helena, we are most grateful,” her aunt replied.
“Aunt Lucy, Isabella and I are going to spend her last day together. I have notified the butler that we will not be receiving today. We are hiring a sedan chair to go about the city,” Abby explained.
Aunt Lucy looked to Mrs Notley. “It is fine, Lucy. You’ll find lots of young ladies exploring the city in sedan chairs; it’s very fashionable.”
“Well, then, Abby, that will be fine, but I would like you to bring Betsy with you.”
Abby wiped her mouth and laid her napkin aside before standing. She walked over to her aunt and leaned in to give her a kiss. “Thank you, Aunt Lucy. We shall see you later this afternoon.”
The afternoon flew by quickly while Isabella, Abby, and Betsy enjoyed strawberry ice and visited local museums, followed by a walk through the market gardens. By the time they arrived back to the townhouse, their feet were sore. Abby pulled a few coins from her purse and paid the sedan chair operators their agreed price. They ascended the stairs, dragging their tired feet. Abby couldn’t wait to get in her room and remove her boots.
“I had a wonderful day even if my feet are tired,” Isabella moaned good-heartedly. “I should be supervising the maid in packing, as we will be leaving early in the morning.”
“I hope you will find time to rest before dinner,” Abby said.
“I’m sure I shall.” Isabella smiled, waving Abby off before departing to her bedchamber just a few doors from Abby’s.
Abby untied her bonnet and threw it aside as she slouched into a comfy chair. Quickly untying her laces, she removed her boots and sat back and closed her eyes, savouring the quiet and taking a moment to rest. The door opened, and Abby could hear the splash of water as her maid entered the room. Opening her eyes, Betsy sat the pitcher down on the bureau and pulled a fresh bar of soap from her pocket, laying it beside the pitcher.
“I have brought fresh lavender soap and some water for you to wash up, my lady.”
“Thank you, Betsy.” Abby stood and let her maid help her undress. Splashing fresh water on her face, she inhaled the scent of lavender.
“Miss Joanne has returned, and Lady Sophia and her mother Lady Moore will be staying for dinner. Mrs Notley said to let you know.”
Abby dried her face and went to the bed. Pulling back the covers, she climbed in, yawning. “Betsy, could you wake me in an hour?”
“Yes, my lady.”
Abby could hear her maid closing the door behind her. Lady Moore was from back home and seemed to know everybody’s business. Maybe she had picked up some tidbits about Sir Andrew while she was here. Yawning again, Abby hoped to find out.
* * *
Dinner was a quiet affair with Mr Albert, Lady Moore and her daughter, Lady Sophia, as guests. Mrs Notley’s cook had provided a simple but delicious meal with soup as a first course, followed by two meat dishes with vegetables and finished with a plum pudding. The company soon retired into the drawing room. Joanne and Sophia settled at the pianoforte and began to play while the four adults sat down for a game of cards.
“Isabella, do you think I can find information on Sir Andrew Pulteney’s family at the lending library?” Abby settled into a stuffed chair next to her friend.
“I should think so. What kind of things would you like to find out?”
“Who his family is, how they came to settle in Bath. I would like to understand a little more about Sir Andrew’s character.”
“Are you researching to see if he’s husband material?” Isabella’s eyes brightened, giving Abby a teasing smile.
Abby giggled, shaking her head. She kept her eyes down and picked up some sewing beside her chair. She would not admit to Isabella the strange feelings she felt when Sir Andrew was near. “Well, he doesn’t appear as old as I thought at first.”
Isabella laughed. “Yes, I find he can be charming when he wants to be. And he wants to be charming to you, Abby.”
Abby shook her head, refusing to make a comment. “Lady Moore, what do you know of Sir Andrew Pulteney of Bathwick?” Abby asked.
Lady Moore raised her head from her cards. She seemed surprised at the question. It did not take her long to form her opinion. “Sir Andrew is a very eligible bachelor who refuses to dance with the young ladies. Even though he attends the London Season, he ignores the ladies and spends his time with the gent
lemen, talking politics. He has all the girls aflutter yet continues to disregard them, keeping himself aloof.”
“My dear Lady Moore, aren’t you being a little severe on Sir Andrew?” Mrs Notley asked, laying a card on the pile.
“Oh, no, I am not, Mrs Notley. If you could see him while he is in London, you would understand. Why he even ignores my sweet Sophia. Who could ignore such a beautiful face?” Lady Moore declared.
All eyes turned to Lady Sophia, who sat next to Joanne at the pianoforte. She looked up and smiled sweetly, batting her raven lashes.
Abby groaned inwardly, clenching her teeth as she maintained her smile. Lady Sophia was Joanne’s best friend, but ever since they were little, Abby found her difficult to be around.
“But Lady Moore, what do you think of Sir Andrew’s character?” Abby continued to probe.
“His character?” Lady Moore’s brows arched. “Sir Andrew is wealthy, handsome, and unmarried. What more is there?”
Mrs Notley’s eyes widened at Lady Moore’s declaration. Abby could tell she wanted to say something, but she held her tongue as she played out her hand. Aunt Lucy and Mr Albert both smiled, keeping their comments to themselves.
Joanne and Sophia giggled behind their hands while Abby turned to Isabella. “I hope I find more information at the lending library,” Abby whispered.
* * *
Abby hurried downstairs for breakfast the next morning. Mrs Notley and the girls had left earlier, and only her aunt and Mr Albert were in the breakfast room. Abby was only slightly surprised to see Mr Albert so early, but since her aunt had arrived, he had been in constant attendance.
“Aunt Lucy,” Abby asked as she filled her plate with eggs, “what time are we leaving to go to Sir Andrew’s estate?”