Sauce for the Gander (The Marstone Series Book 1)

by Jayne Davis

  That was easier said than done, sitting here in the dusk. The crescent moon turned the breakers below into lines of lighter grey against a dark sea.

  He should take Connie up to Lion Rocks one moonlit night. She’d enjoy watching the moon on the water, and he’d enjoy—

  Archer nudged him, pointing to the bay down below. At first, Will couldn’t make out what Archer had spotted, but finally a shadow blotted out one line of breakers, then the next.

  It was a small boat, agile enough to beat away from the shore in this wind. The shape drew away, soon becoming lost against the black of the sea.

  “Back,” Will said, and the two men got to their feet.

  Will let himself into his bedroom, leaving his coat and boots by the door and untying his neckcloth. He moved quietly, not wanting to wake Connie, and set his candle on the table beside the bed.

  The room brightened and he turned. The connecting door was open now, Connie a shadow against the lamplight coming from her room.

  “We saw a boat leave,” he said. She must still be worried if she’d waited up to find out. “We don’t know the spy’s gone, but it’s likely.”

  “One part of this is finished then.” There was relief in her voice.

  “Yes.” She didn’t move. “You must be sleepy,” he added, “if you’ve waited up for me.” Say no…

  “Not too tired,” she said, stepping into his room.

  Chapter 37

  Saturday 12th July

  “Is this sufficient?” Will asked, hoping Connie would approve. The best bedroom in the Ship Inn had a large double bed and plenty of space for their modest luggage. A small adjoining sitting room had a table where they would be able to eat, and armchairs by the fire.

  “Very nice,” she said, a mischievous smile on her face as she glanced at the bed.

  “Would you care for some refreshments?”

  “Only if you would, Will. Can we walk about the streets a little? Even seeing so many shops is new.”

  “By all means.”

  Downstairs, he sent a note to Kellet asking for an appointment on Monday morning, and then they set off. He steered her away from Cathedral Green. “You’ll have plenty of time to look around there tomorrow when the shops are closed.”

  Instead, they walked along the High Street, pausing to look into shop windows or to venture down side alleys if they spotted something interesting. Will smiled as she walked straight past a shop selling hats, and two with gowns in their windows, but asked if they could go into the first bookshop they came across.

  “Of course. We can shop for new gowns another day.”

  “Another day? We have all afternoon, do we not?”

  He laughed at her confusion. “Yes, but I suspect it will not be easy to extract you from a bookshop once you are inside.”

  She smiled, giving his arm a squeeze. “You may be right. What do you suggest?”

  He guided her back to one of the dress shops, and had a quiet word with the shopkeeper about ready-made nightwear. Connie blushed delightfully when she saw the semi-transparent fabrics and lacy trim, and he noted the way she stroked the delicate fabric.

  “I don’t need things like this, Will, not when you have to build up the estate and—”

  “There’s enough for treats, Connie, trust me.” He’d discuss the estate revenues when they got home; they could decide together where the money should be spent. After she’d bought some new clothes.

  “I’d rather have some books.”

  Will checked that the shopkeeper was out of earshot, and bent close to her ear. “These are a present for me, Connie, not for you.”

  Her puzzled frown quickly changed to another blush, and without further protest she chose two of the flimsiest garments.

  While he was winning, he persuaded her to choose two new hats, and picked out a shawl before insisting that he was hungry, even if she was not, and taking her to an inn for a late lunch.

  “What would you like to do next?” Will asked, when Connie declined any further sandwiches or cake.

  Shopping, and seemingly being allowed to buy anything she wished, was a great novelty, but the clothing he’d already bought for her seemed extravagant enough.

  “Can we walk by the docks?”

  “If you promise to wear one of your new chemises later.” His wicked smile sent warmth shooting through her.

  “Do you want to go back—?”

  He shook his head. “No, Connie. Make the most of seeing the city.” He reached out one hand to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “There is also the pleasure of anticipation.”

  He stood, and held her chair for her as she got up. “Come, let us go and invent outlandish cargoes for the ships on the wharf.”

  Monday 14th July

  Connie regarded the shelves surrounding her with delight. So many books! The library at Ashton Tracey was fairly well stocked, but too many of the volumes were dry agricultural journals, or reports of parliamentary proceedings. This would be a treasure trove of both knowledge and novels. And Will had gone off to see Kellet, so she needn’t worry about boring him while she browsed.

  Nature books, she thought. She loved the wild flowers in the meadows around Ashton Tracey, but she’d never before had the chance to learn all the proper names. Perhaps a small book on birds, too, so she could carry it in a pocket when they went walking.

  Yesterday had been quiet. After attending morning service in the cathedral, Will had arranged for one of the vergers to give her a guided tour. He’d followed them around, paying enough attention to ask some pertinent questions and ushering her before him with little touches. The physical contact highlighted how much things had changed since he had joined her in the cathedral at Salisbury.

  “Can I help you, my lady?” An elderly man peered at her over spectacles perched on the end of his nose.

  “Do you have any books on church architecture? And on ancient monuments and structures?”

  Will pushed open the door to the bookshop, the bell tinkling.

  “Just looking,” he said, when the owner came bustling over. Connie should be in here somewhere.

  This shop was a warren of small interconnected rooms, crammed with bookshelves. He’d enjoy browsing the books himself, but he was conscious that Connie had already been here for an hour while he’d been with Kellet. He walked through the shop, looking in each crowded room as he passed.

  The meeting had taken longer than expected, but it was worth waiting while Kellet drafted the document he needed. His Last Will and Testament, signed and witnessed, was now lodged with Kellet, along with instructions to contact the Tregarths if anything happened to him. Getting rid of Sandow was still his priority, but at least now Connie’s future was more secure if something went wrong.

  He found her in the fifth room he tried, smiling as he saw that she did indeed have her nose in a book. She didn’t stir as he approached.

  “Ah, there you are,” he said.

  She gasped, almost dropping the book. “Sorry, I was reading.”

  “No, really?” He eyed the small pile of books on the floor by her feet. “Is that all you’ve chosen?”

  “It will do for today,” she said, smiling, but with one brow raised.

  Good, she had stopped apologising for spending money.

  “I’ve finished my business with Kellet,” he said. “I have one more appointment, when you have finished here.” He bent as he spoke, and picked up the books from the floor.

  She looked doubtfully at the book she was holding, so he took it from her, and added it to the pile.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, as he offered her his arm and they set off down the street.

  “In here.” He stopped outside the shop where he’d bought those chemises for her on Saturday. He opened the door and ushered her in.

  “I’ve got enough gowns,” she said, although she could not help staring longingly at the rich colours and delicate patterns of the fabrics on display. “I suppose they are out
of fashion, though.”

  “I’m only buying what your father should have given you before we were married,” Will said.

  “Don’t you need the money for the estate?” She kept her voice low, conscious of the shopkeeper standing not far away.

  “If you carry on arguing, I’ll go through the estate accounts in detail with you when we get home,” he whispered back.

  “Thank you, I’ll enjoy that.” She bit her lips as she watched the surprise on his face, his laugh.

  “I’ll hold you to that,” he said. “Now, I’ve arranged for you to be measured and to choose some fabrics and styles. Mrs Walker will get the gowns part done, then bring them to Ashton Tracey for fitting.”

  She capitulated—it would be lovely to have new clothing. “Thank you.”

  “This would look good on you,” Will said, fingering a pink satin with sprays of tiny roses embroidered on it. He moved onto bolts of kerseymere in darker colours, touching a rich blue. “This for a riding dress.”

  Connie had a vision of herself galloping along the cliff-tops, the dark blue skirts of her habit flying in the wind, Will galloping beside her.

  “And at least two more gowns, Connie,” Will continued. “I’ll wait to make sure you don’t limit yourself to the cheapest fabrics.”

  Connie, her mouth already open to protest, closed it again. All the penny-pinching she’d needed in her father’s house had become more entrenched than she had realised.

  An hour later they had ordered a riding habit, a robe à la française in the rose silk, a dark green redingote, and three open robes of printed cotton, with the underdresses to go with them. Connie had never owned so many garments, let alone having six new ones at once.

  “I’m afraid we should set off for home now.” Will looked up. The earlier wispy clouds were thickening to sheets of light grey.

  “I’ve had a lovely time, Will, thank you.”

  He patted her hand where it rested on his arm. “My pleasure, my lady.”

  Connie watched Will’s face as he drove, taking in his concentration as he passed a slow-moving cart on a narrow stretch of road and recalling the feel of those lips on her body.

  It wasn’t the books safely tucked into a box behind them, or the prospect of new gowns, that fed the happiness she felt; it was the time she’d spent with Will. Their intimacy was part of it, but so was the way they talked together, laughed together. It had all been so… so ordinary. The sort of things that happily married couples might do. Couples who loved each other. She loved him; she hoped he was coming to love her.

  “Will, can we do this again sometime?”

  His smile as he looked at her warmed her heart. “I think that next time we should go to Salisbury. You can see Stonehenge.”

  “Yes, please!” She felt a warm glow of pleasure that he’d remembered.

  Will noticed a man digging in the formal gardens as they approached the house. He stood as the chaise approached, seeming to inspect both Will and Connie, before touching his hat and resuming his work.

  Will helped Connie down by the front door, and drove on round to the stables. Archer, waiting for him, started to back the chaise into the coach house.

  “Them men Mr Nancarrow sent came on Saturday,” he said. “Tanner and Neilson.”

  “I saw one of them in the front garden,” Will replied.

  “That’d be Tanner. Mr Nancarrow told them what they were wanted for.”

  “Do they seem reliable to you?”

  “Me, my lord?” Archer’s brows rose. “I… er… as far as I can tell. They don’t say much.”

  “Did you tell them not to speak about why they’re here?”

  “Yes, my lord, like you said. But don’t you want to put off Sandow and his gang from…?” He paused, his hands still on the harness.

  “What are you thinking?” Will asked, curious to see if the groom had come to the same conclusion as he had.

  “Hiring guards tells folks you’ve got something to hide.”

  “Go on,” Will said.

  “People in the village might wonder why we’ve brought them in, and Sandow might guess we know more than he thinks.”

  “That’s what I was thinking, yes. So we’ll continue to let people think they are just extra gardeners.” Will took the bridle while Archer sorted out the rest of the harness. “I’ll probably be riding around the farms again in the next few days, but not with Lady Wingrave. Make sure they know to report to you in my absence. Send word if they question your orders.”

  “I… Yes, my lord.”

  Will hoped he wasn’t giving Archer too much responsibility, but he’d proven himself trustworthy and intelligent so far.

  Unfortunately Connie would need to confine herself to the house and gardens for the next few days. He doubted Sandow would try to kill him outright as retaliation for sending the Traskers away. Killing a member of the aristocracy would draw more attention to his operations than the fight with the revenue men. A warning of some kind was more likely, and he’d be safe enough himself if Sandow accosted him. Mounted on Mercury, he could outride any attackers, and he’d take his pistols with him.

  He needn’t spend all his time on the farms. He’d give Connie the estate accounts, and let her see what she made of them—she wouldn’t need his help. Spending some time not doing anything constructive would be enjoyable too.

  Chapter 38

  Wednesday 16th July

  Connie slipped the gown on and fastened the front, then stood before the mirror turning to and fro. Not a bad day’s work, she thought, smoothing the skirts. Mrs Trasker could have sewn the hem a little more evenly, perhaps, but she doubted anyone would notice a few imperfections. It was only a summer gown for home use, and would do until her new gowns were ready.

  “Very nice.” Will’s voice came from behind her, making her jump.

  She twirled, letting him take in her handiwork.

  “It suits you well,” he added, “although I prefer you without it.”

  She answered the gleam in his eye with a smile. “Later. How was Knap Farm?”

  “I’ll tell you over tea.”

  In the parlour, Connie sipped tea and ate Mrs Curnow’s apple cake, listening to Will’s account of his morning’s trip. After spending much of yesterday at two of the more distant farms, and today’s visits, his tour of the estate must be nearly over.

  “…good condition, not much to do there. Mrs Knap asked if I’d bring you along next time, although that will have to wait until…”

  Connie heard hoof beats and the crunch of wheels on gravel as Will’s words tailed off. They crossed to the window to see a post chaise and four pulling up at the bottom of the steps. Two men alighted and stood looking up at the house.

  “Tregarth!” Will put his cup down and hurried into the hall.

  Connie watched as Barton helped the servant riding at the back of the carriage to unload a couple of valises. Then she checked her hair in the glass over the fireplace, smoothed her gown, and went to greet Will’s friend.

  “Tregarth. Sir John.” Will looked in her direction, encouraging her forward with a smile and a turn of his head. “Gentlemen, may I introduce Lady Wingrave? Connie, my good friend Harry Tregarth, and his father, Sir John.”

  She dipped a small curtsey, and held out one hand, regarding them with interest. These men would have her future in their hands if anything should happen to Will.

  “My lady.” Harry Tregarth bowed over her hand. “I am pleased to meet you.” His smile was friendly.

  “Lady Wingrave.” Sir John’s gaze was more assessing than his son’s. “My apologies for giving you no notice of our visit.”

  “You are welcome, Sir John.” It was too soon to judge, but her initial impressions of them both were promising.

  “Are you staying?” Will asked.

  “For tonight, at least, if we may,” Sir John replied.

  “You are welcome, for as long as you wish,” Will said. “Warren, refreshments in the library, if
you please.”

  “I will see to the arrangements.” Connie knew that it would be up to her to organise rooms, and ensure that dinner was suitable for their guests—her first test as hostess.

  “Please join us when you are able, my lady,” Will added, the warmth in his eyes lightening his formal words.

  Will ushered their guests down the corridor, and Connie went to consult Mrs Curnow.

  The cook, after muttering curses at men with no consideration for them as had to provide extra food at only a couple of hours’ notice, set to work with a will. Connie took one of the maids with her to help prepare two of the guest rooms.

  Will sent Warren away once he’d served the drinks. “What brings you here, Sir John? You made no mention of visiting when I saw you last.”

  “My visit was a possibility when we last met, not a certainty.”

  “I was going to visit anyway,” Harry Tregarth said. “Apart from anything else, it was time I saw this new wife of yours. Looks like you’ve done well there.”

  “I think so.” Tregarth could be teasing, but Will chose to take his friend’s words at face value. “Did you have a good journey?”

  “Not bad, spent a couple of nights on the road. Stopped at the Golden Lion in Shaftesbury last night. Ever been there?”

  Will shook his head. “The George and Dragon’s better. Good ale.”

  “No, no…”

  Will saw Sir John roll his eyes and get up to browse the bookshelves as Tregarth launched into a comparison of coaching inns he’d patronised recently. Sir John must have come in connection with the spy, but now wasn’t the time to discuss that so Will let Tregarth rattle on.

  They broke off as the door opened, and all three rose to their feet as Connie entered.

  “Sir John, Mr Tregarth, your rooms are prepared should you wish to use them. Dinner will be ready at five.”

  “Thank you, my lady, for accommodating us so readily.”