Harlequin Historical September 2021--Box Set 2 of 2

by Annie Burrows

  She kept watching Ben until he’d disappeared into the tangle of the gardens. What was she going to do if he decided he didn’t want to make their marriage work? What would she do if he decided returning to his regiment was preferable to living under the same roof as an...an icicle?

  There was nothing she could do.

  And the worst of it all was that if he did leave, she would have nobody to blame but herself.

  She made her way back to the house in a sombre mood, finding it hard to reply cheerfully to Marcie’s chatter as she helped her prepare for bed. And slept only in exhausted snatches because she started at every noise, imagining it to be the sound of Ben’s horse, galloping away. If only he weren’t sleeping in the stables but in one of the other bedrooms inside, she might even have plucked up the courage to go to him and...and...

  But there her resolve faltered. Even if she did know where he was sleeping, she had little idea of how to make a man see her as a desirable woman. She could simply remove her nightgown, she supposed...

  Only, if he still didn’t want her, she’d feel humiliated, standing naked before him. It would feel worse than anything that had happened so far.

  There had to be a way she could persuade him to stay here long enough to show him that she wasn’t just a spoiled, childish creature who thought of nobody but herself. Perhaps if she told him that she had noticed how needy his tenants were, and that she’d hoped to begin helping them, he might see her in a different light?

  Or perhaps not. She didn’t really know how he felt about his tenants and the derelict state of his holdings. He might want to just wash his hands of them all. After all, he had spoken about returning to his regiment, which suggested he wasn’t all that concerned about them. Or didn’t think there was anything he could do...

  It took her so long to fall properly asleep that she was late down for breakfast. She didn’t think she’d have made it at all if it hadn’t been for Marcie coming to wake her, reminding her that it was Sunday, and she’d promised Sally’s grandmother she’d go to church today and start meeting more of the locals.

  Ben looked up at her when she got to the kitchen, his expression impossible to read.

  ‘Good morning,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘You look very smart.’

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, taking her place and reaching for the cup of tea Mrs Green had already poured her. ‘I intend to go to the local church this morning.’

  ‘It is a long walk,’ said Ben.

  ‘Yes, and I gather you don’t have a carriage I can use.’

  ‘No,’ he said stiffly. Defensively?

  ‘I...’ He fiddled with his spoon, before glancing up at her warily. ‘Would you like me to provide you with a riding horse?’

  She wrinkled her nose as she considered his question. At least he was talking to her. She’d wondered if he would after yesterday.

  ‘I am not sure,’ she said as she slathered butter onto a thick slice of fresh bread, ‘that it would be appropriate for me to trot up to the church door on horseback.’

  He scowled. ‘There are other days of the week. You will want to get about, surely? And I can lend you Sergeant Wilmot to act as your groom. Or...’ He tilted his head to one side and looked at her thoughtfully. ‘Don’t you enjoy horse riding? Now I think of it, I don’t recall ever seeing you hack about the Priory, not in all the time I spent there.’

  As she chewed on her bread and butter, she considered the question. Did she enjoy horse riding? The truth was she had no idea. She’d always told everyone she didn’t when she’d been growing up, in pure self-defence. Because if she’d spent much time in the stables, her brothers would have assumed she was either trying to impress them or trying to spoil their fun. Which meant she’d taken great pains to demonstrate she had no wish to do either.

  But when she’d been in London, she’d wistfully wondered what it would have been like to be one of those ladies who rode in the park in their stunning riding habits and little jaunty hats, rather than sitting sedately in a carriage, surrounded by grooms and footmen. In short, dependent on males.

  And now, well, it sounded rather tempting to have her own horse. And never mind what he’d said about having Sergeant Wilmot escorting her. If she had her own horse, she could go with Ben whenever he went off on one of his rides.

  ‘I will consider it,’ she told him. ‘But this morning, I am going to have to walk, I fear.’

  ‘And if you don’t want to be late,’ put in Mrs Green, ‘you’d best set off sharpish.’

  She washed down the last of her bread with a gulp of tea and got to her feet. ‘Will you...?’ She broke off at Ben’s set expression. Perhaps it was expecting a bit too much to hope he would go to church with her just because she’d asked him. ‘Do you plan to attend?’

  ‘I had better,’ he said, with a distinct lack of enthusiasm. ‘Because I don’t want you to have to face the reception the locals are likely to give you, without support.’

  ‘Oh?’ She flashed Marcie a smile as the girl handed her a clean pair of gloves, a bonnet and a parasol. And bit back the answer that sprang to mind—that she wouldn’t be without support, because Marcie would be with her. And, she suspected, because Marcie was going, Vale would go too, no doubt using the excuse that his presence would add to her consequence. But if she said as much she risked making him think she didn’t want to spend as much time with him as walking to church and back would take.

  On the other hand, she didn’t want to push him into doing anything he didn’t want to do.

  Oh, why was it so hard to know what to say?

  While she was dithering and pulling on her gloves, Ben got to his feet.

  ‘The locals have no reason to love this family,’ he said, tugging down his jacket sleeves and making for the kitchen door. ‘The late Earl was not a good landlord.’

  ‘No. I noticed that the first time we drove through Bramley Bythorn,’ she said, as he opened the door and extended his arm for her to take. Very well, then. He’d made up his mind to go to church with her. She could just accept his escort with gratitude. And perhaps, on the way, just explain why she was so determined to go. ‘Then the other day,’ she began airily, as though she wasn’t still shivering inside with the horrid feelings that had driven her to leave the estate, ‘I got talking to Sally’s grandmother.’

  ‘Mother Porter?’

  ‘You know her?’ Of course he did. He must know everybody in the area. ‘Of course you do. Anyway, during the course of our...chat... I promised to do what I could to help with getting people jobs. There is so much work that needs doing after all,’ she said, waving her hand at the expanse of meadow through which they were making their way. At one time it must have been a lawn. Possibly even with a path across it. ‘And she said she would put the word about, so that people who wanted to meet me might come to church to do so.’

  ‘Mrs Knowles is going to love that,’ said Ben dryly.

  ‘What do you mean? Who is Mrs Knowles?’

  ‘The vicar’s wife. She would have preferred it if you had gone and visited her, rather than Mother Porter, and asked for her opinion about what wants doing and who is deserving of your help so that she could have guided you.’

  ‘Would you have preferred me to have gone and consulted her?’ The moment the words had left her lips she blinked in some surprise. Because, for the first time in her life, she had asked a man what he would have preferred her to have done. Because she truly wanted to know what his preferences were.

  He shrugged, as though it didn’t matter to him either way.

  ‘I am only pointing out that she is the kind of woman who needs to feel important.’

  ‘Ah. Well, hmm... I don’t want to alienate the vicar’s wife, of course.’ And it wasn’t as if she’d done it on purpose.

  ‘I think it is too late. She will probably have taken against you on principle already
.’

  ‘Because I spoke to Mother Porter about the state of the village, rather than her?’

  ‘No. Because you have married me.’

  ‘Oh, dear. Is your name really in such poor odour in these parts? I suppose it must be, since your father was such a terrible landlord. Whatever ailed him to leave his tenants living in such awful conditions? And why would he not employ more of them?’ She pulled herself up short. Mother Porter had said it was because Ben’s mother had been a bit too free with her favours. Ben was bound to feel unhappy about that. Well, anyone would, wouldn’t they? If her own mother had behaved so scandalously...no, she definitely ought not to mention it.

  ‘Mother Porter told me that young people have had to go to the manufacturing towns, rather than staying here,’ she rushed on, filling the heavy silence emanating from Ben. ‘And it made me think...’ She darted him a sideways glance. He was staring ahead, broodingly. If he wasn’t thinking bitter thoughts about his mother’s behaviour, behaviour he probably wished she knew nothing about, then he could well be wondering how to tell her that the task of undoing all the ills she could see in this part of the world was well beyond her capabilities. After all, what did she know about parish affairs, or employment, or poverty? She’d grown up in the lap of luxury.

  And taken it all for granted. She lowered her head, watching her feet ploughing a furrow through the long, thick grasses alongside Ben’s heavily booted ones. From behind them came the sound of Marcie’s laughter and the low rumble of Vale’s voice. They sounded so carefree. So easy in each other’s company.

  ‘What,’ said Ben, after such a lengthy pause she’d started to think he might not say another word all the way to church, ‘What did you think?’

  Think? Oh, yes, she’d been about to tell him her plans and then stopped, thinking he’d think they were silly.

  ‘Oh, well, it is probably all very foolish,’ she said. ‘And there are probably dozens of reasons why none of what I have been thinking will work...’

  ‘Well, then, you had better tell me what you have been thinking before you tell anyone else, so that I can stop you from...’

  ‘Making a fool of myself?’

  ‘No, I didn’t mean that...’

  ‘Well, I appreciate it, anyway. And it is a good idea. You see...’ she cleared her throat ‘...I have been thinking...’ She felt her cheeks heat. She had never really shared her thoughts with anyone before. She had been the only girl amongst five brothers, whose delight in life was to tease her. Mother had always put them first. Nobody shared confidences with Father, it was unthinkable. And none of the governesses she’d had over the years had been interested in anything she might have to say. Their task had been the reverse—to instruct her in what she ought to think.

  But Ben was different. Even if he mocked her, he would at least prevent her from being mocked by anyone else. He’d just said so.

  She took a deep breath. ‘I know I have not been much of a wife to you so far. And I know you probably don’t like me very much at the moment, which, actually makes it easier for me to speak frankly,’ she admitted, suddenly realising it was true.

  ‘But I am certain that there is one way in which I can benefit you. I am rich. And that was one of the things I overheard that day in the library, how much you are in need of my fortune. And since I’ve been here, I have seen it with my own eyes. Your holdings are in a terrible state, Ben. I know,’ she put in hastily when he made as if he was going to protest, ‘it is not your fault. And I also know that you said you wouldn’t touch a penny of my money, but, honestly, it would help me to think that some good might come from our union. I mean, if we cannot be happy with each other, then at least we can use my money to benefit your people.’

  Ben’s scowl deepened.

  ‘That is...that is only the broad outline,’ he said, after a short pause, during which it looked as though he’d been weighing his words carefully. ‘Your intent to make everything all clean and shiny around these parts. You have not laid out yet just how you intend to affect this transformation of the mess,’ he said, his lip curling, ‘I’ve inherited.’

  Oh, dear. She’d pricked his masculine pride. But that was only to be expected, wasn’t it? Men didn’t like to hear ideas from females. They liked to be in charge. And if she made suggestions he hadn’t thought of, would he be even more cross with her?

  She sighed. He’d already threatened to leave. Nor had he made a positive response to her suggestion that they try to start again. So what had she got to lose?

  ‘Well, take this meadow we’re walking through,’ she said, just as they were coming to the end of it and were about to set foot in the lane that ran through the village. ‘Couldn’t we give people permission to graze their animals on it? Or even encourage them to do so? Or say that if they come and mow it they can use the hay to feed their stock over winter? It would not only tidy the place up but give them both work and provisions. And then there’s all that fruit going to waste in the orchard,’ she added, as they turned and began to climb the steep lane that led up to the squat little church. ‘I’m sure I heard somewhere that pigs will eat anything. Couldn’t we feed them all those windfalls lying there, rotting? And then have a couple of days when we invite locals to come in and help thin the crop, and later harvest it?’

  ‘Do you plan to give away the entire crop?’

  Plan. He’d said plan, as if it was entirely up to her what she did. Otherwise he would have asked what she proposed to do with the crop, so that he could either grant or withhold his permission.

  ‘Oh, well,’ she said, her heart kicking up a bit, ‘I don’t know. I am not sure how many people are living hereabouts, for one thing, but whatever we do have left I mean to use for pies and preserves. I know I have the reputation for being completely useless, but I have been taught all the things a lady in charge of a large property needs to know.’

  ‘Mrs Green used to make pies and preserves from the fruit when I was a boy, I do remember that,’ he said. ‘If she had the help she needed, I’m sure she would love to do so again.’

  He approved! Oh, it was only of one of the things she’d suggested, but it felt as if she’d just cleared an immense hurdle.

  ‘And as for all that furniture... Ben, why on earth,’ she said, gleaning the courage from his positive response, to ask him the question that she’d been dying to ask him, ‘are there all those tables and chairs and suchlike scattered all over the orchard?’

  ‘Oh, as to that, it was the Fourth Earl’s doing. As I expect you will have gathered.’

  ‘He turned all that furniture out into the orchard to rot?’

  ‘Well, no, he ordered the servants to burn it. But there was so much. Apparently they did have a few bonfires, but once he died, they didn’t see the sense in carrying on with such a wasteful practice. Besides which it took a lot of hard work to drag it out of the rooms, down the stairs, along the corridors, and out to the field where he decreed it ought to be burned.’

  ‘Yes, I imagine it would,’ she mused, as they drew near to the churchyard wall. Especially if he was turning staff off at the same time. But that was where their ability to share confidences had to cease. There were other people straggling up the path to the open church door. People who turned to look at them as they drew near. People who could overhear whatever they said.

  Ben seemed to stand up straighter as he went inside and looked neither to the right nor the left as he led her up the aisle to a rather ornate pew at the very front of the church. It was clearly his family pew. Her own family had one similar to it in their own parish church.

  She got the impression of murmured comments sweeping through the sparse congregation as she took her place at his side. Naturally she pretended not to notice but went serenely through the routine of kneeling and bowing her head in prayer, and then sitting at Ben’s side to wait quietly for the service to begin. Since they were right at th
e front, she could not see how people reacted to them being there. But she could feel all the eyes boring into the back of her head.

  And from Ben’s rigid posture and grim expression, so could he.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  It was different, attending church with Daisy on one side and a couple of her servants on the other, from what it had been when he’d sat here with his family. And not only because they were all gone.

  As they knelt, and stood, and sang hymns together, their backs resolutely turned to the rest of the congregation, he got a feeling of...not being alone, for once, to face the gossip, and the hostility, and the sniggers.

  It stayed with him when the service ended, and they made their way to the porch, where the vicar was standing to bid farewell to the few parishioners he had left.

  As Ben and Daisy had been sitting right at the front, they were the last people to leave the dimly lit church. Everyone else who’d attended was already gathering in little groups in the churchyard, gossiping with their particular friends whilst pretending that they weren’t waiting to catch sight of him and his wife.

  The vicar, to Ben’s surprise, held out his hand for him to shake.

  ‘Good to see you in church, my lord,’ he said. Ah, so that explained the sudden shift in his attitude. Ben was now the owner of this village, and therefore the church, and had the disposal of the living in his gift. It was in the man’s interests to be courteous.

  Mrs Knowles, his wife, who’d been in a huddle with the squire and his lady, took a deep breath, then bustled over.

  ‘Indeed, it is good to see you both,’ she said, giving them a rather forced smile. It looked as though she would much rather be turning her nose up at them both, and the fact that his newly acquired rank and influence meant she needed to be careful about what she said was leaving a very nasty taste in her mouth. ‘And something of a surprise, too. I did not expect you to lower yourself to attend such a poorly attended rustic service as you must find here,’ she said, turning her barely suppressed irritation on Daisy.