The Lady's Desire

by Audrey Abbott

  “Stay with your relatives? Would you now?” He seemed to consider the idea. “Isn’t your uncle in trade?”

  “Yes, he is in imports and exports. It appears he has achieved some degree of success. They only recently purchased a home in the West End of London. As you will remember, you met my uncle at his solicitor’s chambers and then at the wedding reception.”

  Albert visibly shuddered. “No. I will not require your presence in London, my dear.”

  “I see. Well, after your arrival in India, when will you write? When will I be joining you?”

  “I have no exact idea.” Albert opened the Times with a sharp snap, plainly terminating the conversation.

  But Anne persisted. She cleared her throat and found the courage to speak again. “My Lord, it is such a lovely morning. Might you accompany me on a ride today?”

  Her husband looked up from scanning the newspaper and frowned. “Did you say something, my dear?”

  “I was feeling the need for exercise. Might we ride? I hoped to visit the stables.” For weeks, Anne felt trapped within the manor’s walls. The eyes of her husband and of the staff seemed to follow her wherever she moved in the house.

  “Ride? Stables? No. I am needed at Addiscombe, the Military Seminary, to look over the fresh recruits. Major Mayhew has asked for my advice,” he said, returning again to his paper.

  “Will you be riding over or taking the carriage?” Anne asked, doubting the more experienced officer would need advice from someone such as Albert. But then, she really understood little about the details of his life before he married her.

  Perhaps Lord Westmeare possessed a great deal of military acumen and proficiency. Finishing her eggs, she neatly wiped her lips on the fine linen napkin woven with the Westmeare crest.

  Within clenched fingers, Anne crushed the napkin as she awaited her husband’s response.

  Lord Westmeare looked up and appeared to ponder her question.

  “Perhaps I could accompany you and pay a visit to Mrs. Mayhew. I have known her for many years.” Anne attempted a smile.

  “You have?” He almost squeaked.

  “My Lord,” Anne said, “I have lived in this part of Surrey all my life. Mrs. Mayhew was a special friend to my mother before the Mayhews moved to India. I did not know that they had returned to Surrey. I am pleased to hear it.”

  Repressing a sigh, she added, “Country life may be socially limited, but there are parties and the occasional ball. One does meet people even in the country.” She managed a forced smile.

  “Hmmm,” the Viscount murmured. He nibbled on his gloved thumb. “Well, as my new wife, I should introduce you to the finer people in the county.” He set down his tea cup. “I’m taking the small carriage. You may accompany me. We leave in one hour. Be ready.”

  Chapter 20

  July 1812

  Addiscombe Military Seminary

  Surrey, England

  At eleven o’clock, a landau pulled into the circular drive of Hartwood Manor. Albert escorted Anne to the carriage and helped her to step up into its rich interior. Deep leather seats enveloped Anne as she settled into her place. He seated himself opposite her.

  As the carriage rolled away, Albert spoke. “You look radiant today, my dear.” His eyes swept over her form, lingering upon her modest décolleté. “That gown is quite charming. The color becomes your complexion.”

  Anne smoothed the pale rose muslin gown and adjusted her gray Spencer made of kerseymere. It had been her mother’s. A chill still lingered after the previous night’s storm and the twilled woolen jacket wrapped Anne in its soft embrace as her fingertips stroked the familiar garment. Today she wore a fancy straw bonnet, lined with rose silk. Her husband rarely complimented her and she sensed herself sliding into unchartered waters.

  Changing his position in the carriage, he turned his gaze to the countryside. Without looking at Anne, he asked, “Are you pleased with your staff?”

  “Yes,” Anne answered with some hesitation, uncertain how to respond to this unexpected attention. “Bridget is a dear. And Mrs. Bennett, the housekeeper, has been . . . Helpful. Celia is sweet and quite efficient.” She spoke the truth about the maids, but Mrs. Bennett seemed to avoid her as much as possible.

  “Do you require any other maids?” Albert asked, expressing a rare concern for her welfare or needs.

  “I am not accustomed to having so many servants, but Bridget and Celia will do most grandly,” Anne responded, her hands folded on her lap. “Thank you.”

  Albert fell silent and continued to gaze at the scenery. Anne kept any further comments to herself for the moment. She would make her moves slowly and deliberately. This shared ride she considered to be a small victory in the battle for her husband’s attentions and concern. Needs must. If she were to make this marriage succeed, she would take small steps.

  Arriving at Addiscombe, a footman assisted Anne to descend to the drive where small stones crunched beneath her leather shoes. The old country house, previously owned by the Earl of Liverpool, now served as the new headquarters of the Military Seminary of the British East India Company.

  Once a stately mansion with extensive lawns, the level grounds of the estate now sustained horse jumps and artillery, shooting ranges, and other types of equipment required for the estate’s new military training function. Everywhere Anne looked, young men exerted themselves as they fenced, boxed, and raced.

  She blushed to see young soldiers stripped to their waists on the front lawn of the manor, wrestling each other, sweating and straining to gain advantage over their opponents. Other young men encircled the combatants, cheering them on.

  In a distant field, mounted horses charged along a racetrack that circled behind the manor house. Earnest cavalrymen leaned into the wind as their mounts rounded the first turn, racing neck and neck. Kicking up a veil of dust, the horses disappeared behind the house, but not before Anne noticed one tall, fair-haired rider astride a splendid dapple-gray horse, edging forward on the outside of the pack.

  Dismayed to lose sight of the contest, Anne ran to the corner of the house. A brisk wind threatened to unseat her tall bonnet as she watched the race, reminding her how she disliked wearing hats.

  She tightened the pale rose ribbon under her chin, all the while never taking her eyes off the impressive young horseman on the dappled horse. The dust revealed the location of the racers as they rounded the far turn and flew toward her down the straightaway.

  Anne marveled at the skill of the rider as she silently cheered him on. He carried a whip that he never used, but rather he leaned over the horse and seemed to whisper in its ear. Ahead of the pack by several lengths, the awesome steed thundered over the hard track, stretching his powerful legs as he negotiated the second turn and carried the man to the finish line.

  Albert’s voice sounded behind her, calling her to return. His grating voice shattered her joy over the race’s finish and dragged her back to reality. One final glance at the track saw the victorious tall rider dismounting and accepting the hearty slaps and accolades of the others. Their cheers rolled across the field to land softly at her feet.

  Wondering about the identity of the winner, Anne reluctantly returned to the front of the mansion. There she found Albert frowning at her. Before he could utter a word of censure, an elderly butler appeared and bowed to them. He ushered Lord and Lady Westmeare into the foyer. From there he escorted them into a sunny parlor.

  “Lord and Lady Westmeare,” the butler announced in a wavering voice.

  A slender woman rose from a green velvet settee. Beneath silver air, her face bore few traces of her age. She smiled and greeted them warmly.

  “Welcome to our home.” To the viscount, she said, “I am Mrs. Mayhew, Major Mayhew’s wife.” Curtsying to her visitors, she continued, “How pleasant to finally meet y
ou, Lord Westmeare.”

  Turning her attention to Anne, she said, “And how lovely to see you again, my dear. I heard of your recent nuptials and of course I wish you every happiness. I am so pleased you were both able to pay us a visit today.”

  Addressing the butler, she said, “Lawrence, please find Major Mayhew and advise him that our guests have arrived.” Anne watched the butler shuffle off to do his mistress’s bidding.

  Guiding them toward the settee, Mrs. Mayhew spoke cordially, “How have you been, Lord Westmeare?”

  Westmeare, still standing, barely stifled a yawn. “Passing, my dear lady. Passing.”

  “Ah, Major,” the viscount said, seeing the military man enter the room. “Here you are! We should take leave of the ladies and continue our discussion of the news from India.”

  Major Mayhew marched toward them. He was tall and past middle age. He carried himself with a rigid military bearing, but his broad smile betrayed a convivial nature. He glanced at his wife over Viscount Westmeare’s head with a questioning look.

  “Surely, Viscount, you will first introduce me to your most lovely new bride.” The Major smiled down at Anne. Bowing, he took her hand and brushed his mustached lips lightly over her fingers. “Of course, we have already met, but it has been years. My dear, you look so much like your late mother. How pleased she would be to see how beautiful and radiant you are.”

  “You are most gracious, Major,” Anne whispered, turning away as tears crept into the corners of her eyes. “Thank you for your kind words.”

  “We are delighted to welcome you here. I regret that I must take my leave, but there is military business to discuss. Please excuse us, dear ladies, while we depart from your presence. I assure you that we will return.” The Major bowed as he ushered the Viscount out of the room, giving his wife a discreet wink over his shoulder.

  After the gentlemen left, Mrs. Mayhew clasped Anne’s hands. “How lovely to see you again, my dear.” She offered Anne a seat. “Would you care for some refreshments?”

  “Yes, that would be most welcome,” Anne said, sitting on the green velvet.

  “I will ring for tea. Then would you like a tour of this old residence? It boasts some very fine architectural features. I know you have been here before with your mother, but that was so many years ago and we have made a few recent enhancements. I would love to hear your thoughts on these. Your mother possessed such refined taste in everything. She certainly made the Vicarage into a cozy home for her charming family. I miss her very much. She was a good friend.”

  “How long have you and the Major lived here?” Anne asked, trying to remember her last visit to the military institution. “I did not know that you had returned to Surrey.”

  “We have been in residence here for only two months now. One does move so often when attached to the military. We were in India when your dear mother died. Such a tragedy for your family and especially for your father.” Mrs. Mayhew paused to collect her thoughts. “I did write from India when we heard the news. Do you know if he received the letter?”

  “Yes, he did. My father was most moved by your kind and courteous words, Mrs. Mayhew. Mother’s death was a great blow to us all, but especially to father. He died only a year after. He never ceased to grieve for her.”

  “We were still in India when we learned of your father’s death as well. We were assigned to India for five years. That was actually our second tour of duty there. India is where both of our sons were born.”

  “Five years! Is that normal? Lord Westmeare is sailing to India in a month and I am to join him eventually. I did not realize we could be there for so long.”

  “Well, India is an important post and almost a requirement for any career soldier. I was most unhappy when we first arrived there. I was very young and so very homesick for England. But India is beautiful and beguiling and the native people are gentle and intelligent. I eventually came to adore it.”

  “Will you be returning to India, Mrs. Mayhew?”

  “No, I don’t believe so. James is almost ready to retire. This will be our final post in the army. Then we hope to settle down in some nice village. Like Abbey Mead perhaps. Close to London yet remote enough and quaint.”

  “I do hope you can retire here in Surrey. I should like to have a friend,” Anne said with a pensive tone. “Someone who understands military life that is. I have so many questions.”

  “Yes, my dear, I will be happy to answer any questions you may have. The life of an Army wife can be difficult and at times even dangerous, but it is also a life full of adventure.”

  “What should I pack? What will I need? How many servants should I take? Lord Westmeare is not too forthcoming. He forgets he has a wife sometimes,” Anne murmured as she chewed her lower lip, pondering Mrs. Mayhew’s use of the word “dangerous.”

  Mrs. Mayhew scrutinized her guest. Such a lovely girl. Yet still so young. A vicar’s daughter, probably not too worldly. What a shame to waste her youth and beauty on the likes of Lord Westmeare.

  “Before you leave, I will share some of my wisdom of India with you. It is a country of extremes, hot dry plains, dense green jungles, dust storms, wild rains, and ubiquitous insects.” She laughed. “It would help if you could shoot. Do you shoot?”

  To Mrs. Mayhew’s amazement, Anne nodded in the affirmative. “Good. You never know when a mad dog will invade your garden or a poisonous snake will slither into your bed. Beware of the common krait with its flat head and beady little eyes. It is the most venomous snake in India.”

  Anne’s eyes widened at this advice. Mrs. Mayhew paused to consider her next bit of counsel. “Wherever you are stationed, my dear, as the wife of Lord Westmeare, you will undoubtedly be the senior woman and others will look to you for leadership. Some may even resent your youth and your higher status.”

  Taking Anne’s hand, she said, “Never forget that. Precedence of rank is the guiding principle of life in India. Even more so than here in England, strange as that may seem.”

  The butler returned with tea and biscuits and the women pursued a conversation of fashion and gardening and needlework, enjoying each other’s company in the bright cheerful room.

  For Anne, it was a pleasant interlude and a respite from the dark, dreary chambers of Hartwood Manor. Perhaps she could do something about that. Perhaps she could make some changes to the manor’s decor in order to create a more inviting space. She wondered what her husband would say about that.

  But for now, she looked forward to continuing her discussion about India with Mrs. Mayhew. Poisonous snakes. Mad dogs. India. Anne suddenly realized how little she knew about her future home.

  Chapter 21

  Their repast consumed, Mrs. Mayhew took Anne’s arm as she escorted her through the public rooms in the college. “The first floor was converted to the needs of the seminary. The front rooms do serve as public spaces.” Guiding her down the hall and turning left, they entered the west wing.

  “The west and south wings contain the classrooms, while the east wing serves as the kitchen and dining rooms and quarters for the servants. The students’ dorm rooms are located on the second floor while our own personal suite is situated on the third floor.”

  From the hallway, Anne peered into an empty classroom and out through the windows toward the stables where part of the racetrack was visible. She detached herself from Mrs. Mayhew’s arm and hurried over to the windows and searched the paddock and track for signs of the racers. She found herself disappointed to see the men and horses gone although the stable doors were open and a few young boys, undoubtedly grooms, hung about the entrance.

  Turning to her hostess, she asked, “When we arrived, a horse race was in progress. I saw a fine gray steed with a most competent rider finish the race. Do you know who they were?”

  “Why, yes. That would be William . . . Captain Ferg
uson of the Royal Scots Greys and his horse Angus. They make a splendid match, don’t you think?”

  “Yes, I have never seen anyone ride like your Captain Ferguson,” Anne replied as she tore herself away from the view of the stables. Anne said no more, but followed Mrs. Mayhew as she continued her tour of the first floor, eventually guiding her back to the front parlor where a fresh pot of tea awaited them.

  While Anne poured, Mrs. Mayhew related more about the military and shared details about her family. “Our eldest son, Neville, is preparing to join his regiment and sail to America. The Americans have just declared war on Britain. They are such a small and weak new nation. What do they hope to accomplish by fighting our country again?”

  Anne had read a few articles in the London newspapers, but she did not pay enough attention to the conflict to express an opinion. “But with our troops fighting both in Europe and now in America, won’t that stretch our nation’s military reserves?”

  “Yes, that is a most serious concern. But my husband does not believe this new war will last very long. America has few financial resources.”

  “Have there been many battles?” Anne asked, sipping her tea.

  “None yet, but there will be, including naval conflicts. It is such an egregious little war. Actually, I believe many of our troops will be sent to Canada to protect our interests there.”

  “I do hope your son will be safe.”

  “Thank you, Lady Westmeare. We hope the best for him. Neville is a wonderful boy. He is married and we are the proud grandparents of Julia Marie and Neville James, Jr. They live with their mother in London.”

  “Do you get to see them often?”

  “Oh, yes. Every time we are in the city. And I always find an excuse to travel there. My husband sees through my ruse, but he does not care. James loves the little ones as much as I do.”