Summerset Abbey

by Brown, T. J.

  “If this is the New Woman, I wonder why I ever bothered with the old ones,” Jon’s brother said. “And would this New Woman have a name?”

  Jon tensed next to her and his grip on her arm tightened. “Actually, she does. George, may I present to you the Honorable Rowena Buxton? Rowena, this is my older brother, George. Don’t mind him, I got all the manners in the family.”

  But the good humor of the party had fallen away with the mention of her name. If she thought Jon had reacted poorly to her last name, that was nothing compared to the chill emanating from his brother.

  “A Buxton, eh, baby brother? Reaching a bit above yourself, aren’t you?”

  Rowena winced, but Jon’s hand released her arm and then he pulled her close, his arm over her shoulders protectively. “You don’t even know her, and if you did, you would be ashamed of yourself. Come, Rowena, let’s go for a walk, shall we?”

  Mutely, she nodded; they turned their backs on the group and walked away carefully, as she was on skates and he was wearing shoes and limping.

  “I apologize for my brother. I’m afraid he can be a bit of a pill.”

  She glanced at him, but he was staring straight ahead, his jawline set and his lips pressed together. “I take it there is no love lost between our families. Would you mind telling me why?”

  He looked over at her, surprised. “You mean, you don’t know?”

  She shook her head. “You have to remember, I was not brought up here. I only came for the summers, and even then there were so many social events, we rarely spent time together as a family. So I was not really privy to anything that may have happened.”

  He shook his head. “It probably never came up because your uncle treads on the lower classes as a regular thing. No doubt he didn’t spend more than five minutes thinking about it altogether. Only as much time as he needed to tell his army of solicitors what he wanted and how to get it. They did all the dirty work, while he went hunting or riding or whatever it is he does when not choking the life out of his tenants.”

  She stopped, stricken by the bitterness in his voice. Part of her felt she should defend her uncle, but how could she defend him? Jon was probably right.

  He saw her face and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. The Wellses become a bit overwrought on the topic of Conrad Buxton. But it really has nothing to do with you.”

  His voice was uncertain as he added that last part and Rowena began moving again. “No, it does not,” she said firmly. “My father left Summerset for Oxford when he was nineteen and never looked back. If my uncle did something to hurt your family, I am very sorry.”

  “Your apologies couldn’t possibly put a dent into the wrong that has been done, but I do thank you for the sentiment. You see, I hold your uncle responsible for my father’s death.”

  Rowena gasped, placing one hand over her open mouth. They stopped moving and she turned toward him. Her skates added several inches to her height so that he was only an inch or so taller than she was. His eyes, so close to the color of the sky they had flown through together, seemed very close to her own, and her pulse raced. “I’m so very sorry for your loss, but I don’t think my uncle . . .” Her voice stopped as he placed a gentle hand over her mouth.

  “Listen before you make judgments. I don’t make these accusations lightly, but neither are they up for debate. Understood?”

  She nodded and they continued moving, he walking and she gliding along next to him.

  “The Wellses and the Buxtons had been friends for a very long time, since the War of the Roses, actually. A young page named Wells saved the life of the son from Summerset. Lord Summerset knighted him and gave him a large piece of his estate in reward. It was a prime piece of land and they made a good living from it. So even though I’m not of noble blood, I am considered gentry.” He gave her a wry smile, but Rowena couldn’t smile back. The pit of her stomach was in knots as she anticipated what she was going to hear about her family.

  “Over time, the friendship between the two families waned a bit as the Buxtons amassed a fortune and the Wellses sat, happy and satisfied with their big stone home and the decent living the farm afforded them. They made enough money to give their sons and daughters a good start and they were always involved in the civic life of the town.”

  “It sounds like a good life,” she ventured, but Jon was so caught up in his story, he didn’t even seem to hear her.

  “My father was a bit of a dreamer and had more ambition than the Wellses who came before him, and he became convinced that there was a seam of coal near the old quarry. He must have had some reason for believing it was so, because he hired an expert to assay the property.”

  “And they found coal?” Rowena knew without being told how the story would end. The only part that puzzled her was how on earth her uncle could possibly be responsible for his father’s death.

  “They found coal,” Jon agreed. “It wasn’t a great deal. Not nearly what they have in the north or in Wales, but it was of very good quality and enough to make a small fortune for the Wells family. Only the Wells family will never see the profit from that coal. In a classic Buxton maneuver, Lord Summerset brought up an old property line dispute, and of course the courts settled in your uncle’s favor.”

  A cramp of misery settled between Rowena’s eyes. “I’m so sorry,” she said softly.

  “That isn’t the worst of it,” he continued. Rowena wanted to put her hands over her ears to stop the words, but felt she ought to listen. “My father was so convinced that things had changed, that the courts couldn’t be bought by wealth and privilege, that he fought them. Hard. When it became more and more clear that he wouldn’t win, he grew bitter and angry and in the process emptied the family coffers of all our money. When it finally ended, we’d lost almost everything and barely had enough money to keep the property solvent. And of course, the Buxtons added more money to their already fat wallets while my family teetered on the edge of bankruptcy. When my father finally came to his senses and realized what he had done, he took a gun, walked out to the old stone quarry where the new coal mine was already in production, and shot himself in the head. And that, my dear Rowena, is why the Wellses can’t abide the Buxtons.”

  Sometime during the last few minutes of his story they had stopped walking. Rowena’s legs were shaking as she tried to understand the horrible story she had just heard. And the sad truth was, he was probably right about her uncle. The business that had ruined a family probably sat on his desk for several days and then had been dispatched with due speed and into the hands of the lawyers. “Get me that property,” her uncle had probably said, and the lawyers had done it. And it’s not as though the Buxtons needed the money. While other great families teetered on the edge of disaster, the Buxtons had a talent for making money, and each earl had added to instead of taking away from the family fortune.

  Turning to him, she took his hands into hers. The calluses between his thumb and forefinger caught on the soft wool of her glove. She’d never felt that on a man’s hands before. She was sure her uncle had never had them, nor any of the young men who frolicked on the other side of the pond. “I’m sorry from the bottom of my heart that happened to your family. I can say nothing that can make up for any of it. Just know that I care that it happened and I am sorry. I do hope that what happened in the past won’t affect the friendship you and I have.”

  Their faces were so close she could see little flecks of green in the blue. Just as she lost herself in the wide blue of the sky, she could lose herself in the blue of his eyes.

  He smiled down at her. “Others have offered their sympathies, but nothing has ever soothed as much as those words coming from your lips. Thank you, Rowena. And no, let’s not let it affect our friendship.” His head bent and for a fraction of a second, his lips brushed across hers. It had only been for a moment, but her mouth missed the heat of his the second he withdrew. Startled, she pulled back and looked around. Victoria and Elaine were staring out across the pond toward her an
d she wondered whether they had seen. Had she really just been kissed? It was so quick, it was like it hadn’t happened at all, and yet her lips still tingled from the contact.

  He laughed at her bewilderment and she pulled her hands out of his. What on earth should she do now? She had just been kissed. In public. And she liked it. The teasing light of his eyes told her he suspected that she liked it.

  “Would you like to fly with me again?” he asked as she pulled away.

  She hesitated, her heart pounding. She should say no. After that little scene she should certainly say no. “Yes,” she said breathlessly, skating away. “Oh, yes.” And she went back to her party, his laughter ringing in her ears.

  * * *

  The sun was just setting and the last of the light, coupled with the light of the moon reflecting off the snow, made the unused portions of the house gleam strangely. Victoria smelled the fire even without the light shining through the open door. Part of her resented his entering her room without her, but that was silly. She knew he would be here. At the skating party today, he had told her he had been detained the last time and he wished to renew their rendezvous. For a moment she thought to tell him to go hang, just to see his reaction, but then she remembered what she had discovered about Prudence’s mother. She had a feeling that Kit, much like she, knew all sorts of things he wasn’t supposed to know. At any rate, he might be able to point her in the right direction.

  She entered the room quietly. At first it seemed empty, but then she spotted him standing in front of a perfectly shaped evergreen tree. He lit the last candle as she watched. Along with the light glowing from the fire, it created a lovely and festive atmosphere.

  He heard her swift intake of breath and turned toward her, smiling. “Happy Christmas,” he said simply.

  She clapped her hands with delight and his smile grew. “Oh, it’s beautiful. How did you manage?”

  “It wasn’t easy,” he admitted. “I had one of the servants cut down the tree and take it to my room. I’ve been pilfering decorations from your aunt Charlotte’s stash and have been hiding them in the room across the hall for the last couple of days. I was terribly worried we would run into each other in the hall and you would demand to know what I was doing.”

  He looked delighted that his secret had been a success and it was the first time she had ever seen him without the bored, haughty look he always affected. He was much improved without it.

  She came and stood by him and they both stared at the tree. A silence descended for a moment until she slipped her arm into his. “Thank you so much. This is the nicest surprise anyone could have given me. The trees in the rest of the house are lovely, of course, but our holidays at home were never as grand as here and this tree in this little room is absolutely perfect . . . it reminds me of home.”

  He laid his hand on hers. “I’m so very glad. The first Christmas after my father passed away was the most difficult. After that it gets easier, though it’s never the same.”

  “Were you very close to your father?”

  “Not exceedingly. I don’t think any little English aristocrats are close to their parents. We’re all raised by nannies and governesses and sent away to school at eight or nine. But he loved me and I loved him, in our own fashion. I sense this wasn’t the same way with your father.”

  She shook her head, staring hard at the candles flickering on the tree. “No. We were all very close. We were raised much differently. My father had very radical ideas on child rearing and we spent most of our time together as a family.” She stopped talking, unable to go on, and Kit patted her hand.

  “I didn’t bring you here to make you sad, and I have another surprise for you.”

  She raised an eyebrow. “More surprises?”

  He nodded, looking more like a naughty boy than a bored aristocrat. He pointed to the bottom of the tree and she stooped for a better look. A velvet jewelry box wrapped in a silver ribbon sat underneath. “And I didn’t bring you anything,” she murmured.

  He laughed and handed her the box. “Christmas is about giving, not getting.”

  She looked up into his blue eyes, surprised. “That’s a decidedly sentimental sentiment, Mr. Kittredge.”

  “I have them on occasion. But don’t tell anyone.”

  She untied the ribbon carefully to give her heart time to slow. Her breath caught as she stared at the small cameo necklace inside. The disk was shining onyx against which the dainty ivory profile of a woman glowed softly. It hung on a chain of delicate filigreed silver. “It’s lovely,” she breathed, lifting it out of the box.

  “I’m glad you like it.”

  “Thank you for my gift. And the tree.”

  He glanced sideways at her, a half smile curving his lips. “You’re very welcome. Sometimes I surprise even myself.”

  She tilted her head so she could see his face. He was staring at her, his yes serious. “But there is something we must discuss,” he said.

  She nodded, matching his seriousness with the same sincerity.

  “I have been wrestling with this for the past several days. I enjoy your company. I enjoy your company very much. I don’t think I’ve ever met a woman who was so easy and stimulating to be around. You are one of the least boring people I know.”

  He paused as if puzzled by the turn of events and Victoria drew back, alarmed. Good God. What was he getting at? He wasn’t trying to propose, was he? For that would change everything . . .

  “I wish us to be friends. Good friends, actually, but I am afraid that it might give people ideas that I was interested in you for reasons other than friendship, which is not at all the case as I am not interested in marriage.”

  She rocked back on her heels and resisted the urge to laugh. He took himself so seriously! At least he wasn’t asking her to marry him, which would be outrageous. “Pardon me while I attempt to understand . . . you are afraid people may receive the wrong impression?”

  Here he nodded and looked so uncomfortable that a thought struck her. “You’re afraid I shall receive the wrong impression.”

  He shifted again and refused to meet her eye. She pinched his arm, hard, and his eyes flew open. “Hey!”

  “If we are to be chums, then you have to tell the truth. You were afraid that I would get the wrong impression, weren’t you?”

  He nodded, his mouth turned downward.

  “And even though I told you that I didn’t want to get married, that left no impression whatsoever? You didn’t believe me at all?”

  It was almost amusing to see a gentleman so tall trying to shrink himself. “Well, not exactly . . .”

  She stuck a finger in his face. “You thought that just because I’m a woman that I would have to want to get married.” She shook her head. His face was evidence enough. “Now that we’re friends, you need to remember that almost everything you think you know about women is going to be turned on its ear. Understood?”

  He looked down at her small hand and then grinned. “How old did you say you were?” he asked, marveling.

  “Now I have something I need from you and this is to be in the strictest confidence. Can I trust you?”

  He nodded, his blue eyes quizzical. “I don’t take friendships lightly, as you will find out.”

  “Excellent. Read this, please, and tell me what you think.”

  His brow furrowed as he took the newspaper clipping. She waited until he read it through. “Why do you think they had an inquiry concerning Halpernia’s death?” she finally asked. “Do you think there was something not right about it?”

  He shook his head. “They always do for a drowning. They ruled it as accidental.”

  She nodded. “I saw that. I just get this feeling that there is something more.” She took back the clipping and made up her mind. “I need you to come with me. I know someone who may have the answers. Will you come?”

  He put out his hand and smiled at her. “Right now, my dear, I would follow you down a rabbit hole.”

  She nodded. �
��You may not feel that way by the time we’re done.”

  CHAPTER

  FOURTEEN

  Prudence walked carefully along the frozen track back to Summerset, not wanting to slip and fall. She knew she could have asked Andrew to take her to town and back, but after the ball a few nights past, she wasn’t quite sure what to say to him.

  Her cheeks flamed again as she thought of the reason he and one of the gardeners had a scuffle during the ball. The man had actually said aloud that Lord Billingsly must be the toff who had bought Prudence’s green dress and that it didn’t take a schoolmaster to figure out why. Who knew that such a muddle would come of a simple ball gown? And fancy Andrew sticking up for her virtue that way. She had no idea how to express her thanks and her embarrassment, which was why she had chosen to walk to town today instead of asking for a ride. Rumor had it that Andrew and the gardener had each lost a week’s pay over the skirmish.

  Well, she supposed she would have to deal with that sooner or later. She had enough on her mind today without including Andrew. Her cousin had been among the townspeople who had worked at Summerset the night of the ball. He had given her the news that the family had wanted to meet her. The only stipulation was that she not mention Alice’s name to Gran. Apparently, Prudence’s mother was a favorite and the heartbreak had almost killed the old woman. So Prudence had spent the morning with Wesley and his parents and Gran, who had taken residence at her son’s house until she was back on her feet again.

  Her heart warmed again as she thought of meeting her family. She’d felt such a void since they’d moved to Summerset and she’d lost her sisters that she’d never thought she would feel that warm connectedness again.

  At first the reunion had been awkward as they struggled to find things to say that didn’t involve Alice, but after they began eating lunch and stopped trying so hard, the conversation had taken wing and Prudence ended up having a pleasant time. Her uncle had her mother’s eyes and the same wide smile and she had warmed to him immediately. It wasn’t like family time, but it was a start and she knew they truly meant it when they extended an invitation to come by any time.