Teresa’s perspective of their situation, though accurate, did not put an end to his feelings.
Caroline followed him about when her own chores were complete, speaking in French with more ease than before. Despite wearing a bonnet when the sun was out, she had more freckles across her cheeks than when he had met her. The little girl was endearing, speaking to him of her thoughts with innocence and honesty. When she discovered he had been to the menagerie in London, the Tower animals were a favorite subject for days.
They were in the barn, Neil in Abigail’s stall and Caroline sitting on one of the stall walls, discussing the exotic animals kept by the Crown.
“Will you draw a picture of the lion for me?” she pleaded. “And the elephant?”
“I am not a great artist, Cara.” He raised his eyebrows at her and grinned, mixing together oats for Abigail. The cow had seemed agitated, and Mr. Putnam told Neil that Abigail likely had eaten something that disagreed with her. A treat of oats and grain mixed and warmed would likely set her to rights.
“But you have seen them, which means your pictures will be better than nothing.” She made her bottom lip protrude, fixing him in place with her large, pleading eyes. “Please, Mr. Duncan?”
Teresa had not told her mother or daughter about his identity, so their address to him had not changed.
Neil pretended to heave a sigh. “Very well. If you bring me your slate, I will do my best.”
Caroline’s grin burst through her pretended pout. Neil gave the bucket to Abigail, then put his hands out to help Caroline down from her perch.
The girl’s arms went briefly around his neck and she placed a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you, Mr. Duncan.” She rushed out of the barn, unaware of what her simple gesture had meant to him.
Neil walked out slowly into the sunlight. He watched Caroline run into the house, and his stomach twisted. Yes, he was in love with Teresa. He had also come to care for her daughter. The girl was a delight. She was happiness and sunshine, and as kind as her mother. He would do anything for either of them.
A clatter near the gate drew Neil’s attention. He turned, curious as to who might have come for a visit. Teresa’s former status seemed to keep her from having many friends among the farmer’s wives, but he had seen a few women come and go.
But it was not a wagon or farm cart that entered the yard. It was a carriage, with a familiar crest.
Neil froze where he stood, staring at the emblazoned yellow shield with three red birds upon it.
The Earl of Inglewood had arrived.
The carriage went to the front of the house, up a pebble and dirt path Neil had not seen anyone use in his whole time at Bramble Cottage. Rather than wind its way behind the house to the yard between cottage and barn, it went to the front door.
Brought out of his stupor by that fact, Neil ran across the yard to the kitchen door. Teresa would be confused to have such guests descend upon her. He entered the kitchen at the same moment the knock sounded at the front door.
Mrs. Godwin looked first at him, then toward the passage to the front room.
“Guests.” Neil spared her a quick smile before going to answer the door himself.
Teresa had been in the front room, sewing a new dress for Caroline. She was already at the door, hand on the latch, when he arrived at her side. Caroline was on the steps, coming down with her slate and chalk.
When the door swung open, Neil had a perfect view of an Inglewood liveried servant standing at the door. “If you please, is this Bramble Cottage, the current residence of Mrs. Clapham?”
Teresa put her hand to her throat. “Yes, I am Mrs. Clapham.”
“Madam.” The servant bowed, not conveying any surprise to find his master and mistress calling upon someone in such humble circumstances. “My master, his lordship the Earl of Inglewood, and his lady, have come to call upon you.” He turned and made a gesture. A servant similarly dressed, standing by the carriage, now held open the door.
Teresa looked over her shoulder at Neil with alarm in her eyes, then stepped outside to greet her guests properly. Neil followed, and Caroline remained behind.
Silas Riley, Lord Inglewood, came out of the carriage first. He was dressed in fine traveling clothes. As tall as Neil, but broader in the shoulders, he only spared the scene before him a brief glance before reaching inside to take his wife’s hand.
Lady Inglewood stepped out one dainty shoe at a time. Her eyes fell immediately on Neil, and her lips parted in surprise. Her husband looked to see what had her attention, then his stare remained upon Neil, his own shock evident by the slow enlargement of his eyes.
“It cannot be—is that you, Lord Neil?” Lady Inglewood came forward, step light and smile large. “I did not recognize you.”
With a stiff bow, Neil acknowledged them both. “Whereas I could never fail to identify you, my lady, as one of the most extraordinary women of my acquaintance.”
That put the frown back on Lord Inglewood’s face, even though his wife laughed away the compliment. “That is quite enough of that, Lord Neil. I understand there is another lady here who holds such a distinction, and I should very much like to meet her.”
Neil put his hand out for Teresa to take, which she did, a shaky smile upon her face. He presented her as he would have done at a ball or court function.
“May I introduce to you, Lord and Lady Inglewood, Mrs. Teresa Clapham. She is a true friend, and a woman of honor and distinction.”
The earl bowed, and his lady curtsied, returning Teresa’s bend of the knee.
Inglewood spoke next. “It is a pleasure to know you, Mrs. Clapham. Please, forgive our intrusion, but we come upon a matter of some urgency.”
Teresa looked to Neil, then back to the earl and his wife. “Of course. If you need to speak to Lord Neil in private—”
“You mistake the matter, Mrs. Clapham.” The countess’s tone was quite gentle. “We have come to speak to you.”
Though obviously somewhat confused, Teresa invited them inside. She introduced Caroline, who had lingered near the stairs, and her mother, who hurried away to prepare coffee for the guests.
The countess sat upon the old sofa in the front room, giving no indication she thought the décor beneath her. Teresa hesitantly took a chair near the fire. Neil remained standing by the window, looking out at the fine carriage, and Inglewood stood beside him, facing the room.
“When my wife told me about your letter,” Inglewood said, voice low and likely meant to be intimidating, “I never imagined you told the truth of your circumstances. Seeing one of your sort dressed like a farm tenant is most unexpected.”
Neil said nothing and did not even grind his teeth together. He only smirked. Let Inglewood think what he wanted. His opinion had never much mattered to Neil. He turned enough to watch the proceedings.
“My dear Mrs. Clapham,” the countess said, her gloved hands folded and in her lap. “You can see that we are known to Lord Neil. My family, my husband’s, and Lord Neil’s have known each other for quite some time. We all have ancestral lands in the same area, outside the village of Aldersy, the country seat of the Marquess of Alderton, Lord Neil’s father.”
Teresa’s expression remained neutral, and her posture every bit as correct as Lady Inglewood’s. “What brings you to my home, my lady?” she asked, hardly batting an eyelash. One would think she entertained nobility on a regular schedule.
The earl stepped toward Teresa, away from Neil. “Lord Neil recently drew our attention to your circumstances, Mrs. Clapham. It seems he met your brother-in-law, one Frederick Clapham, and was immediately suspicious of the man’s behavior, and how your account of your husband’s character did not match with what you were told after he died.”
At last Teresa looked to Neil, her expression showing confusion. “My husband died a year and one half ago. I am afraid everything is quite settled. His solicitor and my brother-in-law did all they could. They repaid all of my late husband’s debts.”
“No,
my dear.” The countess reached across the small space separating her from Teresa, and Neil’s shoulders tensed in anticipation. He knew, somehow, exactly what was coming. “Your brother-in-law and the solicitor, a Mr. Doherty, paid all of their own debts with your money. They lied to you.”
Caroline gasped from the stairway. Neil turned, seeing her young face go pale, and went to her. He held out a hand and the girl hurried down to take it. She stood close to him, listening intently.
Mrs. Godwin stood in the kitchen doorway, her tray with coffee pot and cups rattling. She hurried forward to put the tray on the table before the couch. “I beg your pardon, my lady. What do you mean?”
Mrs. Godwin stepped back and put her hand to her daughter’s shoulders.
Teresa’s face had gone paler than Caroline’s. “You must be mistaken. Frederick assured me that my husband gambled away our funds, including my daughter’s dowry and my marriage portion. His solicitor came and showed me the accounts, that the money was all gone.”
The countess looked to the earl, and he slowly shook his head.
“It did not take me long to make inquiries, Mrs. Clapham. Mr. Doherty is a known gambler. He came from a rather affluent family and was limited to the funds he received as an allowance. When your husband died, your brother-in-law seems to have offered Doherty a handsome sum to pay his debts, under your husband’s name, if Doherty would assist him by ensuring the rest of the money left by your husband went into Mr. Frederick Clapham’s pockets.”
“That cannot—It does not make any sense. I lived in my house, my brother-in-law’s house, for six months after the death of my husband. I saw him dismiss servants—”
Lady Inglewood’s interruption was gentle. “All the servants who might grow suspicious or help you.”
Teresa stood. “Our meals were poor, we were not permitted to entertain.”
Mrs. Godwin took her daughter’s hand. “He was angry when I arrived, because I was another mouth to feed, he said.” She started to tremble and leaned against her daughter. “But he was worried I would help Teresa discover the truth. Wasn’t he?”
“That is what I would think.” Inglewood looked back to Neil. “The timing of your letter was most fortunate. We received it the day before I went to Ipswich in order to speak to my own solicitor on a legal matter. I told Esther to answer your letter, but I did not think anything would come of it. I was rather dismissive of your story, at first. I owe you an apology for that, Lord Neil.”
“I do not care for apologies, only answers for Mrs. Clapham.” Neil knew well enough that Inglewood had never had a good opinion of him. What mattered was what the earl had discovered on Teresa’s behalf.
Inglewood continued his tale. “My solicitor and two lawyers went to work learning more about the Clapham brothers, and they uncovered the information swiftly.” The earl’s tone changed, his words meant to reassure Teresa. “Your money, Mrs. Clapham, still exists. It is sitting in the private Cobbold Bank of Ipswich at this very moment. Your brother-in-law has used some of it, and I am afraid a large sum set aside by your late husband was given to Mr. Doherty.”
Tears fell from Teresa’s eyes. She let them, gripping her mother’s hands tightly. “Henry did not leave me destitute?” She looked to Caroline, then Neil. “And Frederick lied about his own brother. Ruined Henry’s name.”
“A knave if I have ever heard of one,” the countess said.
Mrs. Godwin sniffled, then found a handkerchief in her apron to dab at her eyes. “I never liked Frederick.”
Caroline looked up at Neil, her hand still in his. “What does this mean?” she whispered.
Inglewood heard and answered with a raised voice. “It means the matter can be taken to the courts. I know my brother-in-law, Sir Isaac, is already in Ipswich setting things up to appear before a judge. He was riled by the tale, Mrs. Clapham. By the time you arrive there, my solicitor and your brother-in-law’s will be prepared to make statements and present evidence to the judge. Restitution will be made at last.”
“By the time I arrive? But—how will I get to Ipswich?”
* * *
The information revealed by the Earl of Inglewood had made Teresa’s head spin. For more than a year, she had counted every farthing, let her daughter wander about shoeless, and agonized over what the coming winter would mean without sufficient funds and food stored away. All that time, her brother-in-law had held her money and could have ended her anxieties and fears.
The man was heartless.
Lady Inglewood hurried to reassure Teresa. “Ipswich is thirty miles away. A good six hours by coach, and the same road that brought us here will take you there. It is in excellent condition this time of year. We will take you, of course.”
“I—I cannot pay a solicitor. And how will I return home again?”
Neil cleared his throat, and when Teresa looked at him, he met her gaze with tenderness in his expression. “Teresa, I cannot imagine Lord and Lady Inglewood presenting this plan to you without having thought out all of these things.”
“Indeed not.” Lady Inglewood stood. “Lord Neil will accompany us, of course, and when the matter is settled we will send you home with him as your escort. As you are a widow, there is nothing inherently improper about such a thing. And we will see to the necessary arrangements for everything.”
The gratitude Teresa felt made her eyes overflow again, and she accepted the handkerchief her mother handed to her. “But—why? You do not even know me, my lady.”
“Certainly not because Lord Neil had anything to do with it,” the earl muttered, earning a sharp glare from his wife. He cleared his throat. “I happen to be a member of Parliament, and I am uniquely concerned for our county and all who are in it. That this heinous action has been performed, and gone undetected, is an affront to all that is good and honorable. I wish to see to the matter personally.”
His wife beamed at him, then went to where Neil stood next to Caroline. “You did well, Lord Neil. Now, you had better pack your things.” Then she turned her kindly smile to Caroline. “And you. Are you Miss Caroline?”
“Yes, my lady,” Caroline said shyly.
“Lord Neil mentioned you in his letter. I have brought you a gift.” She opened the front door, and one of her liveried grooms handed a basket through to the countess.
“Mother, will you help me?” Teresa asked, taking her mother’s hand. Her head was pounding with a headache, intermingled with the news and what it might mean for their future.
“Of course, dear.” Mother went first up the stairs, at a speed Teresa had not seen from her since the cow escaped her pen.
As she walked by Neil, he lifted his hand just enough for her to touch it as she passed. It was only the barest touch, a brush of her fingers against his, but it sent tiny bits of lightning up her fingers and straight to her heart. Teresa bit her lip and hurried, rubbing her fingers together as she climbed the steps to get to her little room.
Whatever came of the journey to Ipswich, Neil’s kindness could never be forgotten.
Mother already had Teresa’s trunk open when she entered her bedroom. “I am relieved we did not sell all our best dresses.” She took out the overcoat that had belonged to Henry and laid it upon Teresa’s bed. Teresa sat down, still muddled, and pulled the coat to her chest.
“Mama,” she said, tears threatening to return. She had not called her mother that term since her marriage. “This means Henry never did anything to hurt us. He never kept any secrets.” And all the anger she had worked to hide, the forgiveness she had thought she must give, dissipated. She felt rather like her heart had been mended, too.
“Dearest love.” Mother smiled where she sat upon the floor, one hand still inside the trunk. “It means a great many things, but I do believe I am most grateful for that. You loved him so, and now his memory will no longer bring pain.”
Teresa nodded, running her hands down the sleeves of the coat.
“It also means,” Mother continued, turning her attention b
ack to the trunk, “that you can go about finding a new love.”
Before Teresa could respond, her mother exclaimed happily and pulled a lavender frock from the trunk. It was a printed fabric with silvery vines and light pink flowers upon it.
Teresa took the dress from her mother’s hands. “This will change everything, Mother. If the ruling is in our favor.”
Mother arched an eyebrow at Teresa. “You have the full support of an earl, child. I cannot see your claim being dismissed.” Mother kept rifling around for a second dress. After they had most of her clothing chosen, Mother went to fetch a long spencer from her own trunk, along with a small bag to put everything inside. Teresa changed into a brown gown that would suit travel, the spencer, and a bonnet likely several seasons out of style.
Then she found a pair of gloves, made of soft, buttery leather. For a long moment, she held the gloves in her hand. But her eyes studied her fingers. The backs of her hands were tanned from working in her garden and outside in all weathers. She had callouses. There was nothing soft about her hands anymore.
Shaking away that thought, Teresa pulled the gloves over her hands.
She picked up her bag and the reticule. It hadn’t much in it besides a few coins, and it certainly did not match any of her clothing. But it would do.
Mother looked her over carefully and nodded. “When you arrive at Ipswich, be certain to obtain the services of a maid to do up your hair. All will be well, my dear. You will see.”
“Thank you, Mother.” Teresa embraced her. “Thank you, for being here all this time.”
“My darling, where else would I be?” Her mother kissed her on both cheeks. “Now. Downstairs with you. We must not keep Lord and Lady Inglewood waiting.”
Or Neil. Teresa’s heart swelled with gratitude for all he had done for her. And for the countess including him in the invitation to Ipswich. Teresa could not have asked him to come, though she wished to, without sounding incredibly forward. But there was no one she wanted by her side more. She drew in a breath, bolstering her strength, and left her room.
Reforming Lord Neil: A Regency Romance, Inglewood Book 5 Page 17