To Release an Earl

by Ilene Withers

  "I do sympathize with you, Willa, but I am happy with my choice. I still hold out hope you will one day walk again."

  Willa turned back to face forward. "I cannot imagine it will happen," she said. "I'm coming to terms with the fact I will always be wheeled around in this chair."

  Fayre reached around with her other arm to touch her cousin's shoulder. "I, too, hold hope you will walk again, Willa. Why, the last time Dr. Saunders visited, you still had some feeling in your one foot."

  "Some feeling, but no movement."

  Chapter Nine

  The night of her dinner party, Willa asked Molly to help her prepare with care. Willa had a number of lovely dresses from her come out which no one in the country would have seen. The one she selected for this night was light mint green with vertical rows of ribbon in darker green sewn from the bodice down the skirt. The sleeves were long and of the same darker shade with rows of tiny mint green buttons running up the outside to her elbow. A small mint green ruffle adorned the hem. With this she would carry a lightweight ivory shawl and the new fan John had given her.

  Willa was both anxious and depressed. She refused to allow herself to reveal it to anyone, however. Her aim was to observe John in the company of Miss Marty. The more she thought about it, the more she was sure she should release John because of her love for him. It was not fair for him to be tied to an invalid wife at such a young age. Furthermore, the knowledge that she now had to be vigilant about someone trying to harm her or even kill her put her on edge.

  As soon as Molly was done arranging her hair in a graceful chignon at the back of her head with tendrils teasing each cheek, Willa asked to be carried to the ground floor and deposited in her Bath chair. She had arranged for one of her favorite footmen to assist her for the evening. His name was Morton. He was about her age, perhaps even younger, and struggled with maintaining the stoic face which footmen were expected to display. At times, she could see his eyes light with humor and there would be a barely noticeable quirk to his lips. This endeared him to her.

  "You'll hover on the sidelines, won't you Morton? Then any time I want to be wheeled somewhere else, I'll look at you and nod."

  "Yes, Miss Willa. I will do as you say. It's an honor. Abbott usually suggests I stay behind the scenes at social gatherings."

  "I know he does," Willa said, "but I trust you."

  John was the first to join her, dressed in fashionable trousers and a fitted jacket – both made of dark superfine. His crisp linen shirt was barely visible under the skillfully tied cravat. He raised her hand to his and kissed the back of it. "Willa, you look ravishing."

  Willa couldn't help but smile. "Why, thank you, fine sir." For effect, she snapped open her new fan and moved it flirtatiously. He chuckled in response as she expected he would. They were interrupted by Fayre almost dancing into the room, delightfully dressed in pale pink trimmed with ribbons and bows as befit a young lady of her age.

  "I can't wait until someone arrives," she announced. "I trust I won't embarrass you, cousin dear. I have been trying to recall Mama's lectures about manners."

  "Oh, Fayre, you're delightful! You couldn't possibly embarrass me. When you play the pianoforte tonight, I'll be so proud of you."

  "Yes," the viscountess agreed as she entered the room on her husband's arm. Blythe was dressed in a deep golden satin with her favorite topaz ear bobs dangling from her lobes. "Your uncle and I will both be proud of you, as well. This is a good rehearsal for when you make your own come out."

  Due to the casualness of the evening, they had left the drawing room doors open so they all turned expectantly when they heard the knocker fall onto the front door. Within minutes, Abbott appeared followed by a middle-aged couple dressed in their best finery.

  "Vicar and Mrs. Wright," the butler intoned in his most austere voice.

  The two greeted their hosts and soon approached Willa. "We are so happy you invited us," Mrs. Wright said. "We have heard you are doing well, despite your injury."

  "Yes, as well as can be expected," Willa replied. "I am thankful for this chair, for without it I would be bound to stay in one place all the time." Remembering her manners she introduced John. "I would like to make you known to my fiancé, John Herne, the Earl of Roydon."

  Mrs. Wright, clearly flustered, curtsied. John reached for her husband's hand. "There is no need to stand on ceremony tonight. We are to be a casual gathering of friends and neighbors. It is my pleasure to meet you, Vicar and Mrs. Wright." Once he had shaken the man's hand and smiled at his wife, he indicated Fayre. "And this lovely young lady is Miss Willa's cousin, Miss Fayre Stuart."

  "Why, you are such a beautiful young woman," Mrs. Wright said, "and, if I am correct, the sister-in-law of a duke now."

  "Yes, thank you."

  A clearing of a throat sounded at the door and Abbott escorted in the local solicitor and his wife, Mr. and Mrs. Hampstead. The couple was accompanied by their son, Ronald, whom Willa knew to be just one year older than Fayre. It was amusing to watch the two be introduced. Fayre smiled coquettishly at him and he blushed to the top of his ears.

  Within minutes, the company had been joined by the elderly Mr. Patton. One of Willa's favorite neighbors, he had served in the early years of the Napoleonic Wars as a captain in the Royal Navy. Indeed, he had earned quite a reputation for himself and had many entertaining tales to share. Willa suspected they were often both exaggerated and glamorized, but they did make for riveting entertainment. Mr. Patton used a cane due to an old injury to one leg, and his hearing had been affected, no doubt by the exposure to cannon fire.

  It wasn't long before the local baronet, Sir Sheffield, and his wife arrived accompanied by Miss Matilda Robinson. "We offered to give Miss Marty a ride in our carriage," the man said. "Her brother's estate borders ours," he explained upon meeting John.

  Willa snapped to attention, covertly watching John with Miss Marty. John took her hand and she smiled up at him. "Hello, my lord, it is good to see you again."

  "As it is you," he assured her.

  Miss Marty then turned to Willa. "Miss Dutton, I was so sorry to hear about your accident."

  "Thank you," Willa replied. "John told me how you were able to help Ward diagnose Pirate's behavior a few months ago. I do appreciate it."

  "It's nothing. You know I love animals and do not wish harm to come to any of them."

  Abbott's voice sounded over the conversation. "Dinner is served."

  John moved to wheel Willa's chair into the dining room. Morton followed almost silently behind. In the dining room, John picked Willa up and set her in her chair next to her father. Once he had done so, he left the Bath chair to be moved by Morton and he walked around the table to sit next to the viscountess. Miss Marty was seated to his left.

  The conversation flowed during the meal, shared by those who had spent a lifetime living in the close proximity of a small, rural community. Willa had been advised by her mother to keep the menu simpler than she would in town. The neighbors were not of a high rank and seldom, if ever, attended London events. Therefore, she had started the meal with chestnut soup. It was over this course when she overheard John say to her mother, "Willa selected an excellent soup for the evening, don't you feel, Blythe?"

  "Oh, yes, indeed. I happen to know it is a particular favorite of hers."

  At this, Miss Marty joined in. "I'm so glad she did. I haven't had this soup in quite some time, and it is always a good choice."

  When the soup was cleared and the next course served, Willa accepted a slice of beef from her father. A footman served her a helping of roasted turnips with a brown butter sauce. Willa waited patiently for a serving of turbot in lobster sauce, and some peas. As she lifted her fork, Sir Sheffield complimented her on her menu choice.

  "It is my understanding you undertook the planning of this evening's party," he spoke.

  "Yes, my mother suggested I do as it would give me something to fill my time. You know I cannot be as active as I am accustomed to."
>
  "Miss Dutton, you planned an exquisite menu," he said as he scooped a bite of roast chicken into his mouth. "The earl is a lucky man to be marrying you."

  "Why, thank you," Willa said weakly, thinking about how she could not even cross one ankle over the other. She looked across the table, eavesdropping the best she could over the sound of china and cutlery and enthusiastic conversation.

  "One of my cows gave birth to an off-season calf today," Miss Marty was telling John. "I may have to sell the bull which sired the calf. A fence means nothing to him."

  "And how is the mother and calf doing?" John asked, obviously intrigued by Miss Marty’s choice of dinner conversation. Willa knew it wasn’t a common dinner topic, but also realized that Miss Marty no doubt cared little if others thought she was eccentric. Perhaps, she would one day have a reputation as an eccentric as she grew old alone, Willa mused.

  "Oh, quite well," Miss Marty answered John’s question with pride. "The calf is a strapping young fellow and his mama is proud of him to the point of being rude to us."

  "Feeling a bit over protective, is she?"

  "I have not sprinted so fast in quite some time. I was thankful I had on my trousers. I'm sure I would have been knocked flat had I been hampered by a skirt."

  Willa talked absently with her father and Sir Sheffield, while paying no attention to what she was eating. Instead, her eyes and her thoughts were on the man across the table. While he spoke to her mother throughout the meal, his attention seemed to be riveted on Matilda Robinson. Humor often curved his lips and he laughed from time to time.

  Miss Marty, too, seemed to be enjoying herself. She wasn't a coquettish female and didn't seem to be flirting, but she was conversing enthusiastically with John. Willa found her own mood changing to one of melancholy and she mentally reminded herself that, as hostess, she needed to stay happy.

  Indeed, the dessert did help. Willa had talked to Cook about making her favorite sponge cake. It wasn't fancy, but it was light and airy. Served with a side of almond cream and bowls of fruit and nuts, it was the perfect ending to the meal. The company seemed to enjoy it, too. It was a cheerful group which split up at the end of the meal.

  Morton lifted Willa into her Bath chair and pushed her into the drawing room. The other women followed, and they were soon settled with cups of tea, anxious to talk once again. Willa looked up in time to see Matilda Robinson walk into the room. "Miss Marty," she spoke, "please join me. I feel I have barely gotten to talk to you." She indicated the chintz chair to her right.

  The other woman did so, settling into the chair and arranging the folds of her skirt. Willa admired her dress. It was burgundy, embroidered around the hem and neckline. "You look resplendent in that color, Miss Marty."

  "I can say the same about you. Green compliments your complexion so well."

  Willa thanked her and then approached the subject she wanted to get to. "I noted how much John enjoyed talking to you about cows this evening."

  Marty laughed. "I do hope not everyone could hear us. I am well-bred enough to know livestock is not an appropriate subject for a dinner party, but I just couldn't resist. Your fiancé has a reputation as an outstanding estate owner."

  "Yes, he does care about the land and his livestock."

  "When he visited our farm, it was quite obvious," Marty said. "I enjoyed giving him a tour that day."

  This was what Willa had wanted to know. He had visited long enough for a tour of Townsend Park Farms. She didn't have time to sink into despair, however, before the gentlemen joined them. It was the vicar who suggested Fayre entertain them on the pianoforte, and soon Willa's cousin was seated at the instrument with Ronald Hampstead standing at her side to turn the pages for her. John appeared at Willa's side and whispered in her ear, "Let's sing." Without waiting for an answer, he pushed her chair toward the instrument and raised his voice just as Willa joined in.

  The music helped to chase her melancholy away, and they entertained the group for a half hour before Willa smilingly called it quits and suggested they play cards. Fayre and her companion chose to continue providing music, so they made an easy group of three tables. Willa found herself seated with John, Miss Marty, and old Mr. Patton. This gentleman told tales throughout the game until they were seldom paying attention to the cards. Despite her preoccupation with thoughts of John and Miss Marty the evening sped by, and Willa soon found herself bidding her guests good night.

  As the door closed on the last guest, John lifted her hand to his lips. "You were born to be a hostess, Willa. The evening was perfect and everyone had a good time."

  "I will agree," the viscount joined in.

  "Willa, you did do a wonderful job of planning and carrying off the party," her mother agreed. "I admit it was relaxing for me not to have to be involved. I have never enjoyed a party we have hosted more." Blythe bent and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "I believe I'll retire for the night now."

  "I'll walk up with you, Aunt Blythe," Fayre said as she bade the others good night.

  Willa was tired and she turned to the two men. "Would one of you be willing to carry me upstairs so Morton and Abbott can both seek their own beds?"

  "Of course," John said as he stepped forward and lifted her into his arms, carrying her up the stairs, past the upstairs Bath chair and straight into the room where both Molly and Nancy awaited with Fayre.

  Since the fire, Fayre and Willa had shared Fayre's room. The bed in Willa's had been replaced and the room well aired, but for safety purposes, they had made the decision to leave the two girls together. Fayre had been asked if she would mind, as it could put her in danger as well. The younger woman had refused to be worried. Instead, she had pointed out how if they stayed together, Fayre would be able to lock the door after the maid and the nurse left for the night and, if there were a need, she could unlock it again when Willa required any assistance. The arrangement was working well.

  The next day Willa was quieter than usual. Everyone remarked on it, prompting Willa to claim she was a bit tired. When John went to the stables to exercise Pirate, Willa asked Fayre to take her into the garden for a bit of morning sunshine. Fayre brought the book she was reading along and offered to read it aloud to Willa, but Willa declined. As Fayre occupied herself with the book, Willa thought about her future with John. She knew she should tell him she no longer wanted to marry him. He should look for someone else, someone like Miss Marty. Willa's heart ached every time she dwelt upon the subject. She loved him so much that the decision was an extremely difficult one to make.

  The decision she did make was to try to visit Miss Marty Robinson. Willa felt she needed to speak to the other lady and get a sense of how Miss Marty felt about John. How to get there was the challenge. She didn't want anyone along except, perhaps, Fayre. If she told either of her parents or John of her plans, someone would offer to escort her. Instead, she decided she needed to just tell them she felt cooped up and needed some fresh air. Of course, a ride in the carriage offered little if any fresh air. Then she remembered the pony trap. The little trap was used by those who needed to go into the village, such as the cook or housekeeper. And so she made her decision.

  She interrupted Fayre. “I think I’ll ask Papa if we can take a ride in the pony trap.”

  Fayre stopped reading and looked up at her. “Won’t it be uncomfortable for you?”

  “I don’t see how it could be any more uncomfortable than sitting in this chair or lying in my bed,” Willa replied.

  “Then that would be fun,” Fayre agreed. “When?”

  “I think I’ll ask him at luncheon. Then, if we get the okay, we’ll go tomorrow in the afternoon. I daresay the weather will be nice, and I do know how to drive a small gig. It will just be the two of us, but we can have Brooks ride along on horseback since I suspect we will not be given permission without agreeing to it.”

  With her decision made, Willa said to her cousin, “I’m sorry I interrupted your reading. Do go on.”

  “I have just a
bit of this chapter left,” Fayre said, “I’ll finish it quickly.”

  When they were gathered in the dining room for their luncheon, Willa inquired about Pirate. “John, how was my horse this morning?”

  “He is in fine fettle,” John said. “In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever taken a brisker ride upon his back. He is still missing you, though, and I think we should take a trip to the stables this afternoon so you can visit him.”

  The thought made Willa smile. John took her out at least every other day. “Yes, let’s,” Willa agreed as she reached for the fruit bowl to take an apple and put in her lap for the horse. With that done, she turned toward her father. “Papa, I’ve been thinking how I would love to get out a bit more than I do. I have Fayre to go with me. Consequently, I was wondering if we could take the pony trap out for a drive.”

  The viscount regarded her. “You and Fayre want to take the pony trap out?” The tone of his voice was thoughtful, but not astounded. But then her fiancé broke in.

  “I could take both of you out for a ride in a gig,” he offered.

  “I’m sorry, John, but the pony trap only holds two, and I have already promised Fayre.”

  John’s lips quirked in amusement. “Your father does own other gigs, my dear.”

  “I am most fond of you, John,” she said, “but I am feeling the need to test my independence. I thought to take Brooks along on horseback so, if for any reason, I need some assistance, he will be there. Also, I think I will ask him to strap my chair onto the back in case we get as far as the village and I want to go into one of the shops.”

  The viscount considered this, and then looked at John. “I don’t see any harm in it with Brooks along for safety, do you, John? Willa is quite capable of driving it, and if we ask the stable to hitch old Pokey to it, I don’t see how they can come to much harm.”

  Willa thought about Pokey. The elderly sorrel was overweight, and his fastest speed was a slow, plodding gait. She would have liked a brisker pace but knew better than to push it, so she stayed silent.