From Waif to Gentleman's Wife

by Julia Justiss

  ‘Tell them I’ll be down directly,’ she replied, wondering who might have come from Blenhem. Whoever it was, they would certainly have news of—perhaps even from—Ned. After weeks of silence, she found she was starving for information about him.

  Trying to calm the flutters in her stomach, she hurried downstairs to the back salon. She stopped short on the threshold, surprised but pleased to find Sergeant Russell and Mary, the barmaid from the Hart and Hare, seated within.

  ‘How good to see you!’ she exclaimed as she entered, exchanging a curtsy with Mary and receiving a bow from the soldier. ‘Especially you, Sergeant Russell. I’ve heard nothing of the proceedings since I left and had feared, after Barksdale’s testimony, that you and the others he named might be facing severe legal repercussions. How relieved I am to discover that is not the case.’

  The soldier laughed and shook his head. ‘Oh, but we did get bound over—the lot of us. After hearing of the attack on Sir Edward’s carriage and then the fire that destroyed Sir Edward’s mill, the judge wasn’t inclined to be lenient.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Mary chimed in, ‘for a time, all of us in Hazelwick feared our men might be transported…or worse!’

  ‘Sir Edward, though, worked tirelessly to free us,’ the sergeant said. ‘Told the judge at the Assize Court he believed there was no true conspiracy, just a vicious design instigated by a man bent on revenge, who played upon the distress in the countryside to persuade others to follow him. ’Twas Barksdale, he said, who planned and carried out both attacks, Barksdale who shot at the coach and set the mill fire. The rest of us were guilty of nothing more than bad judgement associating with him.’

  ‘Sir Edward persuaded the judge of it, too,’ Mary continued. ‘He sentenced Forbes, Harris and Matthews, leaders of the local group, to gaol for a time and fined Mr Kirkbride for letting the group meet at the inn. As for Jesse—no lawyer could have argued more eloquently that, after the service he’d given for England and the injuries he suffered, ’twould be monstrously unjust to punish him for so slight an offence.’

  The sergeant laughed. ‘Perhaps Sir Edward should go into politics! I doubt Orator Hunt himself could have swayed a crowd more effectively. In the end, the judge agreed with him on that point as well. I was released with no penalty at all.’

  In his argument on behalf of the Sergeant, Ned had nearly quoted her own words to him, Joanna realised, both surprised and immensely relieved to hear of so favourable an outcome. Before she could congratulate the Sergeant, Mary said, ‘But that’s not all he did for Jesse—and me,’ she added with a blush.

  Smiling at her, the soldier took her hand. ‘Sir Edward told me I needed a position worthy of my talents—and busy enough to keep me out of trouble. He also approved of my desire to settle in America. So he wrote to Lord Englemere, who has offered to employ me as the factor in his business office in the Carolinas. We’re here now to work out the details of the contract. Then, as soon as we can be married, Mary and I are off to the New World to deal in timber and cotton.’

  While Joanna absorbed all that information, a knock sounded at the door. ‘Lord Englemere will see you in his study now, Sergeant.’

  ‘I shall stay and talk to Mrs Merrill while you gentleman talk—if that would not be inconvenient?’ Mary asked, looking to Joanna.

  “Not at all. I should be delighted to catch up on all the events in Hazelwick and Blenhem. And may I offer my congratulations to you both,’ she added, with a pang of both pleasure and envy at their obvious happiness.

  After pressing the hand of his new fiancée, the soldier followed the butler out.

  ‘So you’re to be married!’ Joanna exclaimed. ‘The Sergeant once told me about the sweetheart he’d lost, but even when I saw you together at the hearing, I didn’t realise it was you!’ With more intense interest than she might have felt before leaving Blenhem, she said, ‘How did your reconciliation come about, if you don’t mind telling me?’

  ‘Not a bit,’ Mary replied. ‘I know you’d never guess it—me being the town doxy—and, yes, I was that in truth. You wouldn’t think I grew up a shy, bookish lass. I met Jesse when he was home from the army visiting his family in Nottingham and I was there helping my sister-in-law with a new babe. He courted me and, just before he left, asked me to marry him. But before we could be wed, the news came that Bonaparte had escaped from Elbe and Jesse was recalled to his unit. I promised to wait for him until he came back from the army. But then…’ Her face colouring, looking away, Mary briefly related how Barksdale had attacked her, then threatened her family with ruin to buy her silence about what he’d done.

  ‘When Jesse came back, it was too late. I knew he’d believe me a lightskirt who’d betrayed him. I wanted him to believe it, so he’d be too angry to approach and torture me with thinking about what might have been. After the shame of what happened, I didn’t think I deserved a man as good as Jesse.’

  Mary gave her a radiant smile. ‘Only look at me now, though! We’re to be married, and it’s all Sir Edward’s doing! He said nothing would ever make up for what I’d suffered, but he could offer me a new beginning. The people in Carolina will know me only as Jesse’s lady, the wife of the manager of a prosperous business. Jesse and I can start over again, as if all the bitter years apart never happened.’

  ‘I’m so happy for you,’ Joanna said softly, her eyes misting over with tears. How wonderful it must be to be able to truly begin over again!

  Mary hesitated, then said, ‘May I say something else, though it is not my place to do so?’

  ‘Of course,’ Joanna replied, curious about what else the girl might reveal.

  ‘Sir Edward works hard—harder than ever since you left. But he always looks so sad. It’s obvious he cares a great deal for you. That there was something between you.’

  Joanna felt her face flame. ‘Do people say I’m his doxy?’

  Mary stared at her. ‘His doxy? No! He told everyone that Barksdale had threatened your brother and you came to London to find out what happened to him. You mean you and he…?’

  Cursing herself, Joanna reflected that though she was relieved to discover she wasn’t a byword in Hazelwick, it would have been more prudent not to have given herself away.

  Before she could decide how to answer, Mary chuckled. ‘Don’t worry, you can certainly trust me, of all people, to keep your secret! Everyone knows Sir Edward is sweet on you, but no one knows exactly how you feel about him. Now that…oh, my!’ she exclaimed, her widening eyes indicating she’d just stumbled to the heart of the matter. ‘You were lovers and you didn’t know his true identity?’

  ‘No,’ she said grimly.

  Mary nodded slowly. ‘I can see discovering that must have been…upsetting.’

  ‘Indeed,’ Joanna replied drily.

  ‘You felt betrayed…humiliated, even?’

  Wishing now she had never encouraged her visitor’s frankness, wanting to end the conversation and move on to other matters, Joanna said, ‘Yes, all of that. Though ’tis no matter now.’

  ‘And that’s why you’ve stayed away so long.’

  ‘Only partly,’ she hedged. ‘I’ve been awaiting word about my brother, who was indeed attacked by Barksdale.’ But she knew, if she were completely honest, that the search for Greville had only been an excuse to delay coming to terms with what she meant to do about Ned Greaves.

  ‘I’m sure Sir Edward had his reasons for deceiving you. All things are possible if you really love someone. Imagine, Jesse managed to forgive me, after all I’d done! Sir Edward told Jesse that if he loved me, we owed it to each other to try to begin again. That love, true love, is a rare, precious thing worth working for. Worth forgiving for.’

  ‘Sir Edward said that?’ Joanna echoed faintly.

  Mary nodded. ‘Mrs Merrill, I’ve never met a finer man, save for my Jesse, of course! If you truly care for him, why not come back to Blenhem and see if there’s a chance for you to start over, too?’

  Before Joanna could frame an
answer, a footman entered. ‘Lord Englemere asks that you join him and Sergeant Russell in the study now, miss.’

  Mary jumped up. ‘I must go, then. So nice to talk to you, Mrs Merrill. You’ll think on it, won’t you?’

  Joanna nodded. ‘I will. Good luck to you both, and congratulations.’

  Mary paused on the threshold to wink at her. ‘Good luck to you, too, ma’am.’

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  B ack in the privacy of her chamber, Joanna reviewed all the startling and gratifying bits of information she’d just learned.

  First and foremost, she exulted that the men of Blenhem would not suffer for having been lured into following Barksdale’s lead. What Sir Edward had done was wonderful, bringing all his powers of persuasion to bear to induce the judge to release them.Using all his influence, too. If Sir Edward had deceived the people in his charge, he had also defended and protected them in a time of grave danger, wielding power a mere Ned Greaves could not have summoned.

  Perhaps that fact mitigated his want of honesty in dealing with them. She had to admit that taking on the identity he had chosen had allowed him to gather information to solve the crimes that he probably wouldn’t have been able to uncover if he’d arrived at Blenhem under his true name.

  And if she acquitted him of that fault…perhaps Sir Edward truly did possess all the virtues she’d seen in her Ned.

  Relieved as she felt on that point, she wasn’t sure their relationship was salvageable. She was still uncomfortable with the deception he had perpetrated against her. Embarrassed at the presumption, assumptions, ignorant speculations she’d been lured into uttering, of baring her soul while he concealed his. Recalling some of their conversations, she blushed anew in chagrin, even as the thought of seeing him now, after what Mary had told her, made it ten times more difficult to restrain the yearning that had been building in her for more than a month.

  A light knock at the door startled her from her reflections. As she looked up, Sarah peeped in. ‘Have you a moment to chat?’

  ‘Yes, of course. Please come in,’ she replied, curious about what her hostess wanted. The busy Sarah seldom sought her out in her chamber in the middle of the day.

  ‘Did you have an enjoyable time with the people from Blenhem?’ Sarah asked as she took a seat.

  ‘Yes, thank you.’

  ‘Isn’t it wonderful news about the Sergeant and the others! Ned has outdone himself this time, getting them released, which in these troublesome times was no easy matter. I’m sure you’ve read about the horrors of men, probably only poor and deluded like these, stirred up by some radical, who paid with their lives for their indiscretion.’

  ‘I have, and it was well done of him,’ she replied, a little surprised at the rush of pride she felt for him.

  Sarah hesitated. ‘I’ve tried not to say anything, though it was obvious there has been some…attachment between you. I know you must have been angered that he did not take you into his confidence. But have you ever considered the problem as he would have viewed it? If he had confided in you before the plotters were uncovered, would you have been able to support the ruse, knowing the truth, yet hiding it from everyone?’

  Stay at the manor, pretending he was just ‘Ned’, a fellow employee, an equal partner? Dissemble before Jesse or ‘Mr Hampton’ about his true identity, if pressed?

  There was no doubt the answer to the first question was a resounding negative. Uncomfortable as she was with distorting the truth, she would probably have had difficulty concealing his identity, had she chosen to remain at Blenhem after he confessed it. ‘It would not have been easy,’ she conceded.

  ‘You must see Ned couldn’t reveal the truth until he accomplished what was necessary to uncover the dangerous agitator who had been spreading unrest through the countryside. Despite his deception, it wasn’t Ned who placed them in danger—but Barksdale. It was Ned who saved them, though—quite brilliantly, I might add.’

  Despite the tumultuous emotions churning in her, Joanna had to smile. ‘You are quite eloquent yourself! Did he write you a speech to deliver along with the other news he sent?’

  Sarah smiled back. ‘No, that was my speech, based on what I know of events. Would you like to know what he did write?’

  The indignation she’d felt upon first learning he’d sent Sarah a report about her revived. ‘Yes, I believe I would,’ she replied with some heat.

  ‘Since he never precisely directed me to keep it secret—and since I think it will help you better understand his sentiments—I shall read it to you, then.’

  Drawing a letter from her sleeve, she unfolded it and began. ‘“Sarah, dear friend, I am relying on you in my direst, most desperate moment. I’ve met the woman I’ve been waiting for all my life, Joanna Merrill, about whom I’ve written to you before. But as you might expect for one who’s always been cow-handed in matters involving females, I’ve made a complete muck of it. Just when I was at the point of confessing to her all my hopes and dreams, the truth of my identity was revealed in a fashion designed to make me appear in the worst possible light. Though it was not what I wanted, I was forced to accede to her wishes and let her leave Blenhem.

  ‘“I can only thank a merciful heaven I was at least able to persuade her to come to you. I now place my hopes and dreams, my very future, in your hands. I rely on your ingenuity and discretion in prevailing upon her to stay with you until her anger cools, that she might be induced to allow me a second chance. While she remains with you, please offer your tenderest care, my friend, to the dearest delight of my heart.

  ‘“I cannot ask you to boast to her of my character, for you know my faults too well. But do assure her, if you can, of my steadfast and faithful heart. If, in the end, she no longer believes in the love we shared and chooses another way, please assist her as much as is in your power, knowing my heart goes with her.”’

  For a moment after Sarah finished reading, they both sat silent.

  The simple beauty of his words—and the unmistakable sincerity of his expression—touched something deep within Joanna, a harmonic chord that set off a resonant response in her own heart and senses.

  While she remained mute, too overwhelmed to speak, Sarah said quietly, ‘Ned has been one of my husband’s dearest friends for years. Like all of us, he is a flawed mortal who makes errors in judgement. But love does not always go smoothly, even when sincere and true. My own marriage began as a bargain: Nicky would rescue my family’s estate; I would be a compliant wife who made no demands. He’d kept a beautiful mistress for several years before we married, and I told myself I must reconcile myself to that fact. As I grew to love him, I could not—though as it turned out, he had broken with her just before we married. But jealousy and misunderstanding almost destroyed our love before it fully began. We had to fight to save it. But true love is always worth fighting for.’

  Sarah reached over to pat Joanna’s hand. ‘I know he hurt and disappointed you. But if you truly loved him as Ned, won’t you give Sir Edward a second chance?’

  Handing Joanna his letter, Sarah stood up. ‘There, I’m done with meddling. As Ned said in his letter, it’s not for me to persuade, but for you to act according to the truth you discover within your own heart. I shall see you at dinner, I expect.’

  After Joanna, still too full of emotion to be coherent, murmured an affirmative, Sarah walked out. Joanna remained seated, trying to bring some order to the thoughts swirling in her brain: joy over the Blenhem men’s release, relief and approval at Ned’s part in arranging it, admiration for his further assistance to Sergeant Russell, awe tinged with a bit of shame for how harshly she’d used him after learning of the special compassion he’d shown Mary.

  And then there were those tender, selfless words of love he’d written about her. Carefully smoothing out the letter, she read it through several times.

  By the time she finished, the turmoil of indecision that plagued her was gone. A sense of peace and purpose filling her, she knew clearly what
she must do.

  Ned Greaves—Sir Edward Greaves—was indeed the man she’d first thought him. A man she’d fallen in love with. A man she still loved. What was a bit of embarrassment compared to the wonder of that?

  She’d already given him her heart. Surely she possessed the character to offer him forgiveness and the courage to see if their love could move beyond deception and disappointment into a relationship founded on honesty and trust? Excitement lifting her spirits, the joy she’d thought lost forever began trickling back into her needy soul as anticipation of his touch sent a surge of longing through her needy senses.

  Jumping up, she headed for the wardrobe. Time to get busy! She would set off for Blenhem at first light tomorrow, and, thanks to her friend Sarah, this time she had more to pack.

  Several days later, Ned sat at his desk in the study in the late evening, trying to finish totalling several long columns of figures. After losing track for the fourth time, he threw the pen down in disgust.It was no use. He’d been rising early, eating little, driving himself without rest as he rode about the estate inspecting fields, directing ploughing, assisting repairs to cottages. He’d even pulled off his coat and lent his hands and his back to Tanner and his amused crew of stoneworkers as they renovated the cottage that was to be the schoolmistress’s dwelling—a building he hoped with every fibre of his being would never be put to its intended use.

  Ned wanted Joanna back—but with him. In his house. In his bed. As his wife.

  But no matter how much he punished his body with relentless work, sleep eluded him. Hope, longings and recollections tumbled about within his angry, anguished, grieving mind, robbing him of peace and rest.

  Unable to face the sight of a bed that inflamed so many needs and brought back so many exquisite, anguished memories, he’d taken to remaining in the study, dozing when he could on the sofa.