My Lady Gloriana

by Sylvia Halliday

  He clenched his fists at his sides. It was all he could do to keep himself from smacking her to the floor. “And where has she gone?”

  “I know not,” she whined. “Truly I don’t. You must believe me. And forgive my thoughtlessness. I meant only to greet her as your dear friend. I deeply regret that she misread my words.” She bit her lip, tears trembling on her lashes.

  He stared at her for a moment, feeling like a fool. How often had she used her tears, her seemingly helpless manner to get her way with him? His lip curled in scorn. “What a damnable liar you are. And I never saw it before.” He towered over her, all angry menace. “I have no doubt you know where she is. I shouldn’t be surprised if you had helped her with her plans. I’ve never struck a woman, but, by the horn of Satan, if you don’t tell me where she has gone…”

  Dobson hurried to his side. “Your Grace!” he cried in alarm.

  Thorne took a steadying breath. “You’re right, man. There are other ways to get the truth from the lady. Her brother, I believe you mentioned, is somewhat profligate at the gaming tables?”

  “I believe ivory cubes are his weakness.”

  “’Twould be a simple matter to speak to the right people at Court. Have his creditors call in their debts.”

  Penelope sucked in a horrified breath. “But we would be ruined!”

  “Then I want the truth. Where did she go?”

  “She said she would go to the Colonies. On the first ship that leaves the port.”

  “And that’s all?”

  “She might have mentioned Virginia. That’s all I know. Truly, Thorne. I beg you to spare my brother.” She choked on a sob. “With our parents gone, we only have each other,” she wailed.

  “Your story has touched my heart,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “Come, Dobson. We must—”

  He was interrupted by the sound of the door bursting open and the voice of a man behind him. “Well, Penny, I did my part. Did you?”

  Thorne whirled about, his eyes widening in surprise. The young man gasped. His periwig was gone, but his lank blond hair and delicate features made him all too familiar to Thorne. “Christ’s blood!” he exclaimed. “You! The accident with the coaches.”

  The young man gave a tepid smile. “An unfortunate coincidence, Your Grace. Imagine my astonishment—”

  “Not another word, Nick!” snapped Penelope. “His lordship seems to think he can storm in here and accuse us of all manner of foul deeds. We Crawfords should not tolerate such slander.”

  Thorne spun to her. “I wouldn’t strike you, madam, but I’m not above bloodying his nose. Who is this man?”

  Dobson stepped forward. “Nick Crawford, sir. Her brother.”

  Thorne grabbed Nick Crawford by his shirt front and held his fist before the man’s face. “How did you manage it? Your ‘coincidence.’”

  Crawford began to blubber, cringing away from the expected blow. “I told you it was a stupid plan, Penny. Now we shall be ruined.”

  Thorne glared at Penelope. It had all been her doing. “Do you fancy your brother without his teeth, madam?” he growled.

  Penelope sighed and sank into a chair. “You remember I overheard your conversation with Dobson the other day. Nick paid a prison-keeper to tell him the day… she would be released.”

  “You waited at the prison. And saw my coachman deposit her at the inn.” Thorne shook his head in disgust. “And you, Crawford? I assume you instructed your coachman to swerve into my carriage. But how did you manage to find me?”

  Nick pulled free of Thorne’s grasp and scurried behind Penelope’s chair, safely out of Thorne’s reach. “I… I waited in the lane near Havilland House and followed you.” He rubbed mournfully at his forehead. “And only got a hard knock for my pains.”

  “What a despicable pair you are,” Thorne sneered. He turned to his valet. “Come, Dobson, let us leave these two to their fate.”

  Penelope rose unsteadily from her chair. “You don’t mean to ruin Nick, do you?” she asked in a quavering voice.

  “I certainly do.”

  “Oh, but you can’t! You… you…” Penelope gasped, blinking her eyes, then collapsed on the floor, shaking violently.

  “Penny!” Crawford leaped forward and knelt to his sister. He looked at Thorne, his face dark with accusation. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  Thorne stared at the woman. Though she seemed to be having a fit, her complexion was rosy, without the pallid coloring that usually accompanied such an episode. He glanced at Dobson, who had a knowing smirk on his face. He nodded in agreement. Stepping to a small table, Thorne picked up a vase of flowers, tossed the blossoms aside, crossed back to Penelope and dumped the water onto her face.

  She sputtered and sat up abruptly, water streaming from her hair. “You villain!” she cried. Then her face crumpled. “I beg you not to call in Nick’s debts,” she moaned.

  He thought about it for a moment. It would be needlessly cruel. And he was scarcely blameless; he had allowed himself to be taken in by her devious ways. He felt nothing but contempt and pity for her. “I shall leave you to your own devices, madam. You’re scarcely worth the effort.” He marched to the door, then turned back. “You shall have to find another moneybags to entrap.”

  In the coach, he and Dobson discussed the need to find Gloriana in earnest. Dobson suggested that they send men to Deptford and Gravesend, enquiring about ships heading to the Colonies. It would be a difficult search, since she might not be using the name of Molly Sharpe.

  “And have them stay at the ports for a few days and look for her. With that hair, she will be easy to recognize,” said Thorne, all the while knowing that Gloriana might have left London outright and planned to sail from another seaport on the coast.

  It was only the next morning that he remembered she had left her money with Old Diggory. She’d need it to book passage. Dobson hurried around to Diggory’s forge and came back, his face wreathed in disappointment. She had retrieved her money the day before and had wished the old blacksmith a tearful farewell. Dobson reluctantly told Thorne the whole story: She had taken back the fan, broken it into a dozen pieces and stamped on it. Thorne’s heart sank.

  The days that followed were a misery. No reports from his men on sighting her, no news from any ship’s manifest that a redheaded woman had made arrangements to sail. Thorne wrote letters to planters he knew in Virginia, asking them to notify him should she appear.

  He drifted into despair. It was all his fault. The life he had led, the false friends—why should Gloriana have ever believed he could be sincere in his feelings? But with his grief came a new strength. She had made a better man of him.

  If, heaven forbid, he had lost her forever, he was resolved to honor her memory, to lead a more decent and useful life.

  But what would ever heal his broken heart?

  Chapter Fifteen

  The world was turned to gray, echoing the desolation in Gloriana’s heart. The leaden winter sky, the mist rising over the pewter-hued Thames, the granite stones of Tilbury Fort, the chalky hills that rose behind the coastline. Even the merchant ship that rode in the harbor swarmed with gray-coated customs’ agents, making their final inspection before the ship set sail.

  Gloriana was glad she’d hired a coach to take her to Tilbury. If Thorne had learned of her plans, he might be searching for her at landings closer to London. She shivered. It was cold. Madness to take a dangerous voyage to Virginia in the dead of winter. But at least she’d be comfortable. She’d had a couple of days to see to her needs on the long trip: a fine cabin, a soft mattress for her bunk, a table and chair, and several books to keep her occupied. Her sea chest, already stowed aboard, held warm clothing as well as several jugs of rum, a tin of tea, and a canister of biscuits. She’d paid a pretty penny to dine with the ship’s captain every night, but she could afford it. She had enough left over from Charlie’s gifts to rent a decent house in Williamsburg and perhaps even open a blacksmith shop.

  It
was said that the colonists were a bit more democratic in their thinking and would not frown on a lady blacksmith. She prayed it was so. She had little desire to hire another front for her shop—not after her disastrous adventure with Thorne.

  She looked up. The customs’ agents had finished their tour and were leaving the ship. The first mate was striding down the gangway, motioning to Gloriana to come aboard. Just then, a small coach clattered up to the quay, thudding to a halt. The door opened and a young man came out, followed by a woman carrying a baby. Three more children, of varying ages, burst from the interior, laughing and pointing to the ship.

  The man waved his hand at the children. “Come along, my pets. The start of our great adventure. The tide waits for no man.”

  Gloriana’s heart sank. Children on the voyage? How could she endure it? Every moment would remind her of Billy, and of all she was missing. It was his birthday in a fortnight. One year. She clutched at her belly, as though she could still feel his vigorous kicks within her. He might be walking by now, tottering along on those solid little legs.

  Still laughing, the family had mounted the gangway and was now being escorted to their cabin. And still Gloriana lingered, lost in thought, fighting the pain that seared her soul. She was startled by the voice of the mate, just in front of her. “Be ye comin’ aboard, milady?”

  Milady, he had called her, though she had booked passage as plain Mary Smith. Clearly he assumed she was a noblewoman, traveling as a commoner. But wasn’t she? The Lady Gloriana Baniard. And her clothes, her manner, her soft tones bespoke a gracious upbringing. ’Tis not an accident of birth that gives a woman true nobility, Thorne had said. And perhaps it was so. She had fled Baniard Hall because she had felt unworthy, crude, and unlettered. But now she behaved like a lady, had learned to read, to speak in civil tones, to show respect in order to receive respect. Why should she fear to take her place with the Ridleys, to turn aside the mocking of the servants? And Billy would be hers again.

  She felt a great weight lifting from her shoulders. She smiled at the mate. “I’ve changed my mind,” she said. “I shall not sail. Please have my sea chest brought ashore.”

  He frowned. “But your furnishings, milady. There be no time to unload ’em, if we’re to catch the tide.”

  She shrugged. “See that that lovely family gets them. My farewell gift for a successful voyage and a happy life together.” For better or worse, she had her own path to follow.

  It was nearly a week before her hired coach pulled up to the gates of Baniard Hall. Gloriana had spent the trip in wild anticipation, pacing the floors of the various inns she had stayed at, grumbling when a sudden winter storm had delayed the trip for a day, forcing herself to stay focused on seeing Billy again, not on the difficulties she might face in explaining herself to Allegra and Grey.

  Humphrey, the Ridley gatekeeper, opened the coach door and glanced inside. With Gloriana’s hood draped over her bright hair, the man didn’t seem to recognize her, but he was clearly impressed by her fine clothes. With a deferential nod, he waved her coachman down the long gravel drive that led to the hall.

  It was as beautiful as Gloriana remembered it—honey-colored stones and gray pediments, modest yet elegant. My home, she thought in sudden wonder. And Billy’s legacy. Perhaps, even without Thorne, she could find happiness here.

  She waited for the coachman to scramble down from his box and open the door, giving him a gold sovereign and her thanks for a successful trip. He touched his cap in salute, then ran forward and banged the knocker on the front door. When the door opened, he tapped his cap again and hurried back to his coach.

  Gloriana was momentarily dismayed to see her old maid, Barbara, standing before her. The girl gasped, her eyes opening wide. Then she frowned. “So you’ve decided to come back,” she said with a sneer.

  You can catch more flies with honey than with vinegar, Thorne had said. Gloriana smiled graciously. “Yes,” she murmured. “Thank you for your greeting. I shan’t forget it. A pity you haven’t decided to be more civil. I should appreciate a kindlier tone the next time you speak to me, if you would be so good.” She swept past a dumbstruck Barbara into the vestibule. “If Lady Allegra is at home, I should like to be received by her. Please announce me. May I wait in the parlor?”

  Barbara bobbed a curtsy, clearly flustered. “Of… of course, milady,” she stammered.

  Gloriana was warming her hands by the parlor fire when Allegra rushed into the room, her arms held wide. “Gloriana! I couldn’t believe it when Barbara told me.” She clutched Gloriana to her breast, her voice choking. “Sister. I thought we’d never see you again in this life.” She scanned Gloriana quickly. “You look splendid. What brings you here?”

  Gloriana gulped. “I… I want…” She looked at Allegra, all her old uncertainties overwhelming her for a moment. “If you can forgive me for… running away, may I… come home?” she said at last.

  “To stay for good?”

  “If I may.”

  Allegra clapped her hands together, her eyes filling with tears. “Oh, thanks be to God. Come home and welcome. As for forgiveness, there’s no need. I think Grey and I always understood your desire to leave. It was the reason we scarcely searched for you.” She unfastened Gloriana’s hood and threw her cloak carelessly on a chair. “Now let me ring for tea. You must be frozen. Have you traveled far?”

  Gloriana turned away. Her soul had been on a journey that had taken her to realms far more distant than the trip to Whitby and back. “Farther than you might imagine,” she murmured.

  Allegra turned her about and stared deeply into her eyes. “I see by your face that ’tis not something you wish to speak of. But surely there is sadness deep within you. And a man, I suspect, who broke your heart.”

  Gloriana had forgotten how sensitive Allegra was to people’s moods. She managed a small laugh. “Perhaps someday I’ll tell you about him. But not now.”

  Allegra shook her head. “And you’ve changed so. Your manner, your voice, your speech. Everything. A lovely transformation.”

  Gloriana sighed. “That story, too, must wait for another telling.” She stared at Allegra, almost seeing her for the first time since she’d entered the parlor. “But you’ve changed as well. How stupid of me not to have noticed.” She patted Allegra’s flat belly. “Happy news, I trust?”

  Allegra beamed. “A healthy boy. Josslyn. Near on to six months old now.”

  “And you’re well? And Grey? No winter fevers?”

  Allegra took Gloriana’s hands in hers and searched her face, her dark eyes warm with understanding. “Oh, my dear sister, why don’t you ask the only question that truly matters to you?”

  Gloriana bit her lip, fighting her tears. She had come all this way, but now her fears held her back, kept her exchanging only meaningless pleasantries with Allegra. “God forgive me,” she whispered. “I’m afraid to ask.” She took a steadying breath. “How is… Billy?” she said at last. “Has he forgotten me?”

  “Healthy, happy—a treasure in every way. Would you like to see him now?” At Gloriana’s nod, she laughed and waved her hand toward the parlor door. “You have only to go through there. The moment Barbara told me of your arrival, I had his nursemaid bring him down from his room.”

  Trembling in anticipation and dread, Gloriana crossed the threshold into the vestibule. Had she lost too much time to reclaim her son’s love? She gasped in wonder at the sight before her and dropped to her knees.

  She had parted with an infant, but a little boy stood before her, holding tightly to his nursemaid’s hand. He wore a tiny brown velvet suit that intensified the golden brown of his large eyes, and his mass of copper curls was a brilliant halo around his sweet face. Gloriana imagined she could see traces of her beloved Da in his features.

  She hesitated, seeing the look of doubt on his face, then held out her arms. “Will you come to me, Billy?” she murmured.

  The nursemaid cleared her throat. “Sir William can be shy around stranger
s,” she said sharply.

  Gloriana smiled up at the woman, but her chin was thrust forward in determination. “If you please, I should like him to be called Billy henceforth, so that he may become accustomed to the name. Time enough for a lofty title when he’s older.” She was pleased to see the look of consternation on the woman’s face, as though she had just been forced to swallow an unpleasant morsel of food. “Are you agreeable to that?”

  The woman bobbed a curtsy, clearly intimidated by her manner. “Of course, milady. Billy it is.”

  Gloriana turned her attention back to her son, her arms still open wide. She made a clicking sound with her tongue, a sound that had always brought Black Jack to her. Billy smiled tentatively, tiny dimples appearing in his rosy cheeks, and moved toward her, still holding his nursemaid’s hand. She resisted the urge to bundle him into her embrace, and tousled his curls instead. The smile deepened into a grin and he gurgled happily. At last, sensing his acceptance, she pulled him away from his nursemaid and swept him into her arms. She smelled the sweetness of his hair, felt his sturdy little body settling comfortably against her breast. “My little boy,” she said with a sob. “We shall never be parted again.”

  The next few weeks were a wonder for Gloriana. Grey and Allegra joyously accepted her return, without questioning where she had been. They celebrated Billy’s birthday and Christmastide with quiet country pleasures, with gifts and good wishes. They were a family again, with Gloriana at its heart, rather than as the outsider she had been. At supper, she found herself able to converse intelligently with Grey and Allegra, discussing books she had read, and even feeling confident enough to ask for the meaning of an occasional word that was beyond her comprehension.

  As for Billy, he had happily welcomed her after that first day. They played peekaboo together, made funny noises, clapped their hands. And when Billy was able to walk without holding anyone’s hand, he’d steer a straight course to Gloriana, ignoring everyone else. And when it snowed, late in February, Gloriana was thrilled that she was the one to introduce him to another wonder that the world was unfolding for his young eyes.