by Lynne, Karen
“Noon, dear.”
Abby sat next to Mr Albert across from her aunt. Shaking out her napkin, she placed it in her lap. The footman leaned in and poured her a cup of tea.
“Aunt Lucy, I would like to go over to the lending library this morning before we leave. I will take Betsy with me. My bags are all packed and ready to be placed in the carriage.”
“That only gives you a few hours, Abby.” Her aunt looked concerned. “I would not want to put Sir Andrew out when he is kind enough to send a carriage.”
“I promise to be back in time.”
Mr Albert lowered his paper and put his hand over Aunt Lucy’s, giving it a slight squeeze. “My dear, we can always pick her up from the library on our way.”
Her eyes widened, and her smile softened as she looked at Mr Albert. “Why, that’s a wonderful idea, Lionel,” She turned to Abby. “We shall pick you up on the way, dear, so you may take your time.”
“Thank you, Aunt Lucy, Mr Albert.” Abby quickly finished her meal and left to gather Betsy before stepping out into the sunshine. It was already beginning to get warm; the humidity was oppressive in the air. Abby raised her parasol, hoping to gather a little shade from its canopy. She wore a light cotton walking dress with a straw bonnet to stave off the heat.
It didn’t take long to get to the library. It was an impressive building, made of sandstone, with its golden shade of brown and columns holding up a stone porch in the classic Roman style. As Abby entered the hallway, her boots clipped on the stone tile floor. Wooden bookshelves lined the walls with rows on both sides of the large room filled with books. Abby approached the desk where a middle-aged gentleman leaned over a ledger, spectacles on the edge of his nose. He looked up as Abby neared.
“May I help you, madam?”
“Yes, I’m looking for some information on the history of the Pulteney family of Bathwick?”
“Yes, history,” the gentleman replied. As he climbed off his stool, she followed him to a bookshelf labelled history. He walked around the corner, fingering the books. “We have them alphabetically arranged. You may also look in the B’s for Bathwick,” he suggested. “If you have any other questions, just let me know.” He left her to her search and returned to his desk.
Abby ran her fingers along the books until she found a few, then she pulled them out and took them to a table.
“My lady, may I go and look at books?” Betsy asked.
“Yes.” Abby smiled. “I’ll be right here.”
Over the next hour, Abby perused the books as well as newspapers the clerk brought to her. Sir Andrew came from an honourable family. His grandfather had married into wealth, and his wife inherited the Bathwick Estate from her father. Sir Andrew’s grandfather commissioned the building of the Pulteney Bridge over the Avon River so they could connect to the town without having to take the ferry. Andrew’s father continued the building efforts and helped improve the community of Bath.
Through newspaper articles, she read that Sir Andrew was responsible for getting the new workhouse started in Bathwick. It would be larger and more efficient than the current one she had visited with Miss Stewart and would house another one hundred people in need.
Abby started as the bell tower struck noon. Gathering up the books, she left them on the side table to be put back on the shelves by the clerk.
Outside, the same elegant carriage that she had ridden to Bath in sat by the roadside. A driver stepped down and opened the door. Abby found Aunt Lucy and Mr Albert seated together inside.
“Did you find what you were looking for, my dear?”
Abby settled into the plush leather seat and leaned back. Luxurious blue velvet curtains covered the windows. “Yes, Aunt Lucy, I did.”
Chapter Ten
It didn’t take long to reach Sir Andrew’s estate, a near thirty minutes. They crossed the Pulteney Bridge, with its unusual shops on both sides spanning the Avon River. Approaching Sydney Gardens, the carriage swung left onto Beckford Road. Soon they turned onto Sir Andrew’s Bathwick land, and the carriage rolled down the long gravel road lined with trees. Abby peered from the window, waiting in anticipation to get a view of the estate.
The house came into view as the trees thinned out. She was pleased with the home. It wasn’t as large as her father’s but was majestic all the same, built with the same Bath sandstone that many of the other local buildings had used. It comprised three stories of the Greek revival period.
The carriage pulled to a stop at the entrance to the home. Sir Andrew stood, waiting, dressed in the latest fashion. Abby found her heart beating faster at the sight of him. He didn’t wait for the footman but opened the door himself. A welcoming smile greeted them.
“Lady Phelips, Mr Albert, welcome.”
Sir Andrew’s eyes turned to Abby as he reached out to help her. “Lady Abigale, I look forward to showing you my home.”
Abby had no choice but to take his hand. Shivers ran up her arm as she stepped from the carriage, causing her to pull her hand from his as quickly as possible. She moved to the door, and to hide her discomfort, said, “Sir Andrew, I was impressed when your estate came into view from the carriage.” Abby looked up, admiring the four Corinthian columns supporting the balcony on the second story.
“Thank you, Lady Abigale. My grandfather was involved with the design.”
Turning, she watched Mr Albert gently help her Aunt Lucy from the carriage. When they caught up, Sir Andrew preceded them through the front door into a grand hallway.
He waited until Abby came alongside him. “I have a lite luncheon prepared for us, and then I thought we could take a tour of the house.”
Abby perked up. “I would like that.” She looked up; Sir Andrew watched her. His facial features seemed relaxed; gone were the brow lines and the serious expression she had seen so frequently seen this past month. He looked younger, relaxed in his home surroundings.
They left the hall, opening a door into a morning room where windows stretched across the back. Sir Andrew guided them to the terrace where a table with a white linen tablecloth had been set with pretty Dresden china trimmed in gold and crystal stemware.
A beautiful floral arrangement sat in the centre of the table, surrounded by cold sandwiches, pastries, fruit, and a clear pitcher of strawberry lemonade, her favorite. The sight is delightful, Abby thought as Sir Andrew pulled a chair out for her. Mr Albert assisted her aunt. A pleasant view of the gardens was laid out before them.
“Sir Andrew, you have a fine prospect here,” Aunt Lucy commented.
“Yes,” Sir Andrew agreed. “My father was passionate about landscaping. He hired Lancelot Brown to design the gardens.”
Abby listened intently while Andrew described the history of the grounds. A green stretched out from the house, flanked on both sides by a formal garden. Wooded areas sat away from the home, surrounding a small lake with an interesting feature just barely visible. Abby thought it would be a wonderful place to take her pencils and do a sketch.
“The gardens will be covered with visitors tomorrow, and you may wander and explore at will if you wish.” Sir Andrew’s eyes warmed as he took in the view. He lifted his glass and took a drink.
“I hope you won’t mind if my son joins us for luncheon?” Sir Andrew asked as he put his glass down. He nodded to the maid standing by the door, who was attired in a crisp white hat and neat grey uniform. The maid quickly returned to the house.
“Not at all,” Aunt Lucy replied.
Abby relaxed and popped a few grapes into her mouth, discreetly watching Sir Andrew. His eyes brightened, and she turned to see a small, well-dressed boy being led onto the terrace by an older lady she assumed was the nanny.
His curly hair glistened, and his rosy cheeks and bright smile popped at the sight of his father. “Papa,” he exclaimed as he broke free of his nanny and ran toward Sir Andrew.
Sir Andrew scooped him up and sat him on his lap. “William, I would like you to meet Lady Phelips and her niece, Lady Abiga
le.”
“How do you do, Master William,” Aunt Lucy replied. “This is my good friend, Mr Albert. We are pleased to meet you.”
“Hello.”
Abby was enchanted. “Master William, my brother’s name is William.”
The young boy looked into her eyes. “I was named after my grandfather,” he proudly announced.
Everyone laughed at Master William’s pronouncement. He clapped with excitement as everyone gave him their attention. He turned his eyes to his father. “Pretty lady.”
Sir Andrew looked up at Abby. “Yes, William, she is pretty. But I’m afraid she’s too old for you,” Andrew chuckled as he put his son in the high chair next to him where a small place setting had been provided for the young boy.
Abby felt her cheeks grow warm at the look in Sir Andrew’s gaze. She busied herself with her lunch as the lite conversation continued. Abby was awed at the attention Sir Andrew dealt his son. A warm glow of new admiration towards Sir Andrew filled her.
* * *
Andrew watched Lady Abigale blush at his son’s outburst. He hoped that she would like William. It was important that his next wife be able to accept and love his son. Although he didn’t require love for himself, he knew the damage of being unloved could cause in a small child. Hadn’t he seen it in the faces of the workhouse children?
His son behaved himself for the rest of the meal, and soon, it was time for him to go back to the nanny. Andrew stood and picked him up. “If you be good for Nanny, William, you can play with the children tomorrow at the garden party.”
“Party.” William happily clapped his hands. He leaned in, giving his father a big kiss on the cheek, then turned to Abby and reached out his hands.
She reached over and took him from his father. Master William beamed. “Pretty lady come to the garden party?”
Lady Abigale laughed. “Yes, Master William, I will be at the party.”
Andrew was surprised as he watched his son wrap his arms around her neck and give her a tight squeeze before placing a little kiss on her cheek.
The nanny stepped forward, retrieving William from Lady Abigale’s arms. He happily waved to his father as she took him into the house.
“I apologise, Lady Abigale, if my son’s exuberance embarrassed you,” Andrew said.
“Not at all, Sir Andrew.” Her eyes followed his son as the nanny took him into the house. “He is a delightful child. You must be so proud of him.”
“Yes,” Andrew replied, “he brings me great joy.”
“You must miss his mother greatly.”
Andrew coughed. What could he say? He didn’t miss his late wife as much as he should.
“I thought we could take a tour of the house if you are not too tired?” Andrew changed the subject.
“Oh, yes,” Lady Abigale replied. “I should love to take a tour now if Aunt Lucy is up to it.” She turned concerned eyes on her aunt.
“Yes, dear, I think I can manage it.” She chuckled. Standing, Mr Albert quickly came to her side and helped her to her feet.
Andrew bowed, leading Lady Abigale back into the house, trailed by her aunt and Mr Albert.
* * *
They entered the great hall again while Sir Andrew pointed to the right where the staircase wound up to the next level. “If you look up the stairwell, you’ll see to the floors above. As you reach the first landing, the stairs turn along the outer wall and then on the next floor in a spiral pattern. It lets in light from the rear windows as well as contains the staircase on the backside of the home, allowing for more space on each level.”
Abby touched the ironwork bannister with its intricate pattern. It was unusual from the usually carved wood balustrade found in most country estates.
“The library sits over here,” Sir Andrew directed. He walked to the right and opened a panel door, allowing Abby to walk ahead of him. Bookshelves lined two of the walls, and a magnificent fireplace stood at the end. Sir Andrew walked in and leaned on the mantle, watching her while she moved about the room.
Four tall windows flanked the wall opposite the fireplace with neat window seats tucked underneath. Abby fingered the cushions done in jewel tones of green and gold. The room had a masculine feel, yet the lady of the house would feel comfortable as well. She could see herself sitting here, reading a book or sketching the landscape.
“Do you like the view?”
Abby jumped at the sound of his voice, so near. Her hand flew to her chest to calm her racing heart. She hadn’t known he was so close.
“I didn’t mean to startle you.” He chuckled as he took a step back.
Abby could still feel the heat of his body. He hadn’t moved back enough, for she couldn’t move due to the window seat. Taking a breath, she willed her nerves to calm. “I just thought this would be a lovely place to read a book or sketch the prospect. It’s the same view from the terrace. What is that building down by the lake?” Sir Andrew leaned over her shoulder as he looked out the window, causing her pulse to pick up speed again.
He straightened up and moved back as Aunt Lucy and Mr Albert stepped over to admire the view.
“That’s the lake cottage. My mother spent time there with her friends, having tea parties while the children swim in the lake,” Sir Andrew explained. “I can’t remember the last time I have walked down there.”
Abby thought she heard wistfulness in his voice but shook the thought off when they turned to leave.
There was a large drawing room at the front of the house where Abby tried to imagine Sir Andrew entertaining guests. His study was pointed out, but they didn’t enter. They were shown into a smaller drawing room where a desk sat among the furniture. Abby noticed toys in the corner.
“I like to spend time with William when I’m home. I watch him play and get a few things done. This room is friendlier than my study,” Sir William explained, waving his hand towards the toys.
Abby thought of her own father, whom she saw very little of growing up. She liked the idea of a father spending more time with his children.
They returned to the hallway and back down towards the stairs to the first floor, entering the ballroom, which spanned the whole length of the house. Large windows let in light. French doors opened out onto the portico, supported by the Corinthian pillars she had admired when she first arrived. Abby walked through the doors, admiring the view.
Coming back into the ballroom, Sir Andrew closed the doors behind her. Aunt Lucy and Mr Albert had settled onto one of the couches at one end of the room. A grand piano, surrounded by chairs, sat at the other end. A small mezzanine above her head supported a small gallery. Portraits lined the walls as Abby stepped over to see them more clearly. Sir Andrew followed, introducing her to his ancestors and telling her a little bit about each one. The stories were the same that she read in the library.
“My grandfather commissioned this home to be built after he married, and my father improved on the landscape. I admit I have only maintained it. Now that my son is almost three, I will be finishing my term in Parliament and coming home. I won’t bid for another term.”
“You would do that? Give up your seat in parliament to be home with your son?”
“I would,” Sir William answered, his dark, penetrating eyes met hers. “I only wish my father had done the same.”
Mine, too, Abby thought to herself.
Abby stepped back, bumping against a small table. She turned, reaching for a vase as it wobbled, almost losing her balance. Sir Andrew reached out and held her tight, steadying her until she gained her footing again. Abby tilted her head up. Sir Andrew’s face, only a breath away, caused her to warm again. He studied her mouth before stepping away and releasing her.
“The bedchambers are on the second floor,” Sir Andrew told her as they walked towards her aunt. “The housekeeper will show you to your rooms where you can rest before dinner.”
The housekeeper directed them to their rooms where Betsy had laid out an evening gown for dinner. Abby changed into h
er dressing gown and laid down to rest, but sleep wouldn’t come as the events of the day whirled around in her mind.
So many things about Sir Andrew puzzled her. His kindness and love towards his son, the relaxed manner he had here in his home, his willingness to share the history of his life. He hadn’t provoked her with a snide comment once, and he had treated her with kindness and respect.
Feelings she didn’t understand smouldered just under the surface when he was near. Passion, was that passion he was evoking in her? She had never felt this way around any other gentleman.
She looked at the clock on the mantle. Half an hour had gone by, and still, sleep wouldn’t come. Throwing her legs over the side of the bed, she walked over and rang for Betsy.
Her maid came through the door. “Betsy, help me dress, please. I have just enough time to explore that cottage by the lake before dinner.”
* * *
Andrew retired to his room and left his guests to rest before dinner. It had been a pleasant afternoon, but he felt restless while his valet finished his evening attire. Andrew had a couple of hours before dinner and decided to check out the lake. He hadn’t been there for years. He retrieved the key from his housekeeper and took a shortcut around the woods.
The lake came into view. The stone cottage stood one hundred yards back. It was his mother’s favourite place, and Andrew remembered all the children playing at their annual garden party.
Just like now, the children liked to play and float their toy boats in the lake. It wasn’t large, and only four to five feet deep.
The workers had been busy clearing the brush away and trimming the hedges. Flowers of all colours had been planted around in preparation for the garden party tomorrow. He reached the porch and unlocked the door, sliding the key back in his pocket, and turned the knob. He was surprised nothing had changed. The room was clean of dust. Two high back leather chairs sat facing a floral couch. Windows along the front allowed for a view of the lake.