If she did have an understanding of those details, then the eldest daughter of a poor vicar may have been attracted to the security and social position offered by the viscount. A family raised on the meager salary of a vicar implied simplicity and austerity if not outright indigence. Yet the pleasant vicarage seemed to show signs of a modest middle-class dwelling. Perhaps Anne’s mother possessed a dowry that helped to support the family.
William could not believe that such a charming woman as Anne would have married the viscount for love. But William had known stranger and yet successful unions. Could they be friends? He judged the viscount to be close to forty, much older than Anne to have been a childhood companion. It was a puzzle William could not solve, but in the days to come it would continue to haunt him.
Chapter 27
October 1812
Hartwood Manor
Albert Grenville, Lord Westmeare, departed a few days later for India and Anne found herself in possession of Hartwood as its mistress. Alone in the vast manor house for the first time, Anne struggled to maintain discipline with the staff and sensed she was failing. She found the steward, Jasper Winebiddle, to be secretive and indifferent. She noticed that his black-stained hands seemed to reek of the sea. She wondered why. The English Channel was miles away.
She also caught him spying on her at odd moments and she suspected he countermanded some of her orders to the other staff. She felt there was no one there she could consider an ally except perhaps her maids, Bridget and Celia.
A few days after Albert’s departure, the butler, Davidson, announced the arrival of a visitor. Anne was working in the small sitting room adjacent to the breakfast room. Cozy and on this occasion, sunny, it was her favorite space in the house. She was seated at a mahogany escritoire, composing a letter to her Aunt Martha to invite the London family for a visit to Surrey.
Anne was also preparing for the arrival of Richard and Edwina. Once Penelope gave birth to her baby and David received his military orders for a more permanent location, Penelope hoped to join him. Then Edwina and Richard would come to live with Anne at Hartwood Manor until Lord Westmeare sent for her. If he sent for her. He was so very vague about dates when they last discussed the details about her departure for India or even where she would live once she arrived there.
If or when she did sail for India, her youngest siblings would then move to London to live under the watchful eye of their Aunt Martha. She had lived abroad for so many years and Anne delighted in the renewal of their familial ties. But for now, Anne made rooms ready for Richard and Edwina, looking forward to their arrival at Hartwood. The old manor had not heard the happy sound of children’s laughter or the clatter of young footsteps in many years.
Setting aside her paper and pen, she asked Davidson to admit the visitor and was surprised when he announced, “Captain William Ferguson to see you, milady.”
Anne rose a bit flustered, glancing at the mirror as she smoothed her unruly curls. She regained her composure before Captain Ferguson strode into the room. Attired in civilian clothes, he stood very tall and erect, his physical presence filling the tiny space. He bowed.
“Captain, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you to Hartwood Manor?”
“Well, as it is such a lovely day, I wondered if ye would like to join me for a ride, Lady Westmeare. As I depart for London in a few days, most of my duties have ceased at Addiscombe and I felt the need for some exercise. I hoped ye would consent to be my riding companion today.”
Anne hesitated not knowing how she should respond. Davidson stood at the entrance to the room, awaiting further instructions. Anne heard him gently clear his throat.
“Would you like some refreshment, Captain?” Anne asked, feeling her cheeks warm slightly as she was suddenly reminded of her duty as mistress of the manor to offer hospitality.
“No, thank ye, milady,” William said, smiling at Anne. “But what do ye think of accompanying me on a ride? It is a fine day. And Angus is chomping at his bit ready for a good canter. And I have been told about the land here and wondered how it lay. I understand there are splendid views of the North Downs.”
Anne faced the butler. “Thank you, Davidson. That will be all.” Turning to William, she said, “That is a lovely idea, Captain.” The thought brought a smile to her face. “Please allow me a few moments to change into my riding habit. Would you like to remain inside or perhaps you would care to see the stables yourself first?”
“Aye, milady. I will walk Angus over to the stables. We can find our way.” William bowed. “We will await ye there, Lady Westmeare.” Then he was gone.
Anne rang for Bridget and the two moved up the wide staircase together.
“My, isn’t he just such a fine-looking gentleman, milady,” Bridget said with a sigh, stopping on the staircase and pressing her face to the panes to watch Captain Ferguson lead his gray horse over the lawn toward the stable yards. “So tall and handsome. Gives a girl the goosebumps it does.” Bridget gasped and said to Anne, “Oh, beg pardon, milady. I should not have spoke so forward.”
Gazing at the retreating figure of Captain Ferguson, Anne sighed inwardly, agreeing silently with the maid. Yes, even without his uniform, Mrs. Mayhew’s paragon is indeed a fine-looking man.
Chapter 28
Twenty minutes later, Anne approached the stables and was greeted by a young boy. He doffed his cap. “Good day, milady. Something I can do for ye?”
Anne smiled at the lad as he attempted to smooth his ginger hair. She had met most of the household staff, and although Albert had neglected to introduce her to any of the grounds folks, she had managed to learn of their names, status, and duties.
“Are you Davey, young man?”
“Aye, milady. I’m Davey Higgins. I’m the stable boy and groom.” He puffed out his chest as he returned his cap to his head.
“How many horses does this manor own, Davey?”
“We have six, milady. Two blacks, a matched pair, to pull the carriages when his lordship requires them. Two for riding and two are work horses.”
Anne was surprised to learn of the meager number of horses at the manor. She assumed Lord Westmeare either did not like horses or perhaps he sold his stock to pay off his debts. She inhaled in frustration at the thought.
At that moment, Captain Ferguson approached with Angus. “Davey, this is Captain Ferguson from the Addiscombe Military Seminary.” Ferguson smiled at the boy. “Captain Ferguson, this is Davey Higgins, our groom.”
“That is one fine horse, sir. Whot’s ’is name?” Davey asked, touching his cap to William and gazing up at the gray horse.
“Angus. He is a member of the Royal Scots Greys cavalry unit.” William watched as Davey walked around the horse, running his hands along the steed’s flank and openly admiring his strength and fine lines.
“Would you like to sit him, lad?” William could tell by the gentle way Davey touched the animal, that he knew his way around horseflesh.
Davey’s somber face burst into a grin. “Yes, sir!”
William cupped his hands together and hoisted Davey onto Angus’s back. “Walk him round the yard, lad. Do it careful now,” William instructed.
Davey took the reins and sauntered around the yard, his huge grin never fading. After three turns he stopped in front of William, and bringing his right leg high off the saddle, slid onto the ground.
“Thank ye, sir. I am much obliged,” Davey said, reaching up and stroking the horse’s neck.
“Did you say your name was Higgins? There is a Jack Higgins who works in the stables at the Falcon Inn just outside of Abbey Mead. A young lad. Has red hair and freckles like you. Any relation?” William asked.
“That be me younger brother, sir. We come down from London a few years ago to find work and we never been back.”
“But where are your parents
?” Anne asked.
“Well, me dad went off to sea and he never come back and then me mom took sick and died.” The boy paused and swallowed hard as he stared at the ground. “Me and Jackie, we had no one to look after us, so we looked after each other. We worked as mudlarks for a while, but the East End of London ain’t kind to orphans, milady, so we took off south and ended up here in Surrey.”
“Mudlarks?” Anne asked. “What are mudlarks?”
“Mostly younguns like us—after the tide goes out—search the black mud of the Thames for any odd bits that might have value. Pieces of metal, coins, jewelry. Kept me an’ Jackie in food for a while. But once winter come, Jackie took sick and we didn’t have no food nor warm place to stay. Then Jackie disappeared . . . And I searched and searched for him. There were too many streets and dead end rows . . .”
Davey paused again as something like panic darkened his face. Then his countenance lit up as he continued, “But I found ’im. I did. And we lit out of London quick as a cat.”
Anne, shocked and saddened by this revelation, resisted the urge to embrace and comfort the child. “So you came to Surrey?” She spoke to the boy, but she looked over his head at the captain. William shook his head slightly as he grimaced at the unmentioned horrors that the brothers Higgins must have endured as homeless waifs in the bleak streets of east London.
“Yes, milady. We likes it here. Jackie gets plenty of scraps from the tables at the inn and Mrs. Clarke, our cook here, sees that I have well enough to eat. And we both loves horses. And we gets to see each other on our days off. So we consider ourselves well set!”
“I see,” Anne said, wondering if there was perhaps more to the sad story of the Higgins brothers. How distressing about their mother. And where was their father? “Well, Davey, will you select a horse for me and saddle it up? Captain Ferguson and I are going for a ride.”
“Yes, milady! Right away, milady!” Davey cried as he raced toward the stable doors.
Just then, Bridget appeared lugging a hamper and asked if the Captain and Milady would care for a lunch. “Mr. Davidson suggested it to Mrs. Clarke and she grabbed the basket and filled it with some raspberry tarts, cold sliced duck, some apples, fresh baked bread, and cheese, and a few bottles of mild beer. And I offered to bring it out to you,” Bridget puffed.
William laughed. “What a splendid idea. Please tell Mrs. Clarke that I love her. And thank you, young miss, for carrying this heavy container all the way out here.” William relieved the maid of her awkward burden.
“Why, ’twas no trouble, sir. No trouble at all,” Bridget said, blushing painfully.
Pointing toward the hills behind the manor house, Bridget offered, “There is a grotto on the other side of yonder hill, milady. ’T’would make a grand spot for a picnic.”
When Davey returned, William helped Anne onto her horse. After making certain the hamper was securely tied to the rump of his own mount, William rose effortlessly onto Angus.
Anne wondered if it were proper for her to go riding alone with a man. But she was married now and did not need a chaperone. At least she did not think she did. What would Albert think? Well, she did not have to ask him, as he was gone. And she did not want to think about her husband just now.
Chapter 29
They cantered up the rise behind the manor’s gardens. It was a beautiful sunny day with hawks soaring above and larks twittering in the bushes nearby. The smell of wild phlox and late summer roses filled the soft air. They rode without speaking for several minutes. When the pathway narrowed, William allowed Anne to precede him. Her mount was an older mare that seemed to know the path and trotted spritely enough. William enjoyed his view of Anne’s back, her erect posture, and the way her lush hair swayed down along her form-fitting riding habit.
William wondered why he was here. Well, he knew why. He wanted to see the lovely Anne Westmeare one more time. Since the fête, he could not remove her image from his mind. She was not his. She was another man’s wife, but she was so satisfying to look upon. He hissed softly and berated himself for the fool that he was.
At the top of the rise, he drew level with Anne. While looking down the gentle slope, they spied the grotto at the bottom of the hill. William found a winding path that seemed to lead to their destination. Taking the point this time, he led the way downward to a tree sheltered grotto where a small waterfall splashed over the rocks from a hidden source within the hillside.
William reached up and helped Anne down off her horse, placing his hands around her narrow waist as he had done during the reels at the Addiscombe fête. His hands tightened as her toes touched the ground, not wanting to release her. She looked up into his eyes with trust, without concern or hesitation, smiling her appreciation. William tried to arrange his features and hoped she did not see the longing in his eyes. What would she think?
Damn, he wanted her to trust him, not to fear him. There were two paths forward for them: polite friendliness and outright passion. William knew the second option was not feasible. His honor would not allow it. And surely Anne, a married woman and a vicar’s daughter, would not condone it.
But a gentle ember smoldered deep inside him. Such a feeling had lain dormant for a verra long while as no woman had attracted him like this in years. But he had felt that ember come to life when he first caught sight of Lady Anne at the fête. How could he restrain his burgeoning attraction for this sweet lady?
Duty would solve that dilemma.
In a few days, he would depart Surrey. Soon he would sail to India and leave England far behind. And would Lady Anne even travel there? And even if she did, India was so vast their paths might never cross. The reality is that after today, they might never meet again.
Or they might spend months, even years together in India. Then what?
Nae. He must cast aside his thoughts of her. He must find the will, the strength to keep her at a distance. But he was attracted to her more than he wanted to be. He was attracted to her more than he should be.
Aye. But after today, he may never see her again. At that aching thought, a profound sense of loss burrowed deep inside his heart.
William released Anne and turned away to tether the horses, dampening the fire within as he garnered his inner resolve. Reaching for the basket, he turned slowly to face Anne. He found her gazing at him with a strange questioning expression.
“Captain Ferguson, is anything amiss?” Anne had observed the fleeting look in William’s eyes, but she could not interpret what it meant. A pulse throbbed in his neck.
“Nae, milady. This is indeed a lovely spot.” William rapidly changed the subject as he hastened toward the rock wall, gripping the heavy hamper.
They sat on the grotto’s stone border and began to unpack the basket. Anne shook out a spotless white cloth and laid it over a flat stone. They dined like royalty. “Your Mrs. Clarke is an angel,” William said as he savored the fresh bread still warm in the center. “She could easily get a position in any fine household in England.”
“Yes, but her husband is ill and he would not do well in London or up north. So they stay at Hartwood. He served as the gardener here until he took sick. We have decided to make accommodation for Mr. Clarke and see that he receives the medical attention he needs.”
“We?”
“Well, my husband has agreed in principle to this arrangement,” Anne said, not looking directly into William’s eyes.
William understood it was Anne offering the hand of Christian charity to Mr. and Mrs. Clarke. Her concern for her staff was touching. He only hoped they did not take advantage of her gentle nature.
While enjoying their lunch, Anne and William shared stories of their childhoods. “Tell me about Edinburgh,” Anne said.
William began. “I was born a prince.”
“A prince! Truly?”
“Well, al
low me to explain. I was born on my parents’ farm southeast of the city. Near a village called Dalkeith.” William paused to help himself to a raspberry tart. A smile crossed his lips as he savored the treat.
“We grew oats, raised sheep, and bred horses. My da had great horse sense. I was riding at age two. Of course, it was just a wee pony. Mother would not allow anything larger, but I loved it. Trotting around the paddock, I was a prince.”
Anne smothered a laugh with her napkin.
“But as much as I loved the farm, I itched to travel and see the world. My mother taught me to read and write and most of all to love books. She also taught me history, geography and arithmetic.”
“She must have been a wise woman to teach you all those subjects,” Anne said, helping herself to one of the tasty tarts.
“Aye, and she had a sweet nature. Our da was a stern Presbyterian, but she could melt his dark moods with just a wee smile.”
“What was her name?” Anne inquired, curious to know more about William’s family.
“Rose. My da called her his sweet Briar Rose.” William opened a beer, poured some into a glass, and offered it to Anne. “But when I turned nine, Da decided that I should get a proper schooling in Edinburgh where my uncle owned a successful bookshop.”
“Nine?” Anne asked. “That seems terribly young. Such a tender age to be sent away from home.” Although she knew the sons of noblemen often experienced the same early separation from their families, she felt such a tradition was harsh and unnecessary. Her own brothers had studied at home.
“Aye. I suppose it was,” William said, his voice barely audible. For a moment, his gaze turned inward. He remembered that trip to Edinburgh. His father spoke nary a word. When they arrived at Blackfriars Street, his father deposited him at the entrance to his uncle’s bookshop.
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